Dawn always brought one or two things. It was either the news of the day, highlighted in the next rebellion, the next uproar in a city long away. Or it was a semi-haze of quiet. As shops reopened and vendors poured onto the street to readying their wares. Today, the latter was true. The rustling of early-morning workers took to the cobblestone streets like an act well-rehearsed. Pulling carts from side-alleys, setting up ice from buckets that still smelled of yesterday.
Greed hardly ever got the chance to see it.
But he had plans - big plans.
Covetous fingers snatched an apple as he passed by. A flick of a coin behind him shut any protest that would have followed and he bent and turned. Chasing the flurry of movement with one of his own. To anyone who didn't know, he looked the part of a staggering drunk trying to find his way home. Or one of those others. That had long since lost their mind to the trails and tribulations of the day.
Neither were true.
Greed snapped at the curved side of an apple. Sliced his teeth right in and pulled. He didn't need it, not really. Not like the people around him needed it and it was more a casual luxury at best. His coat tails whipped behind him - hard leather, worn, and he sunk his head forward to peel away from the thick tangle of fur at his collar.
He had been stationed in Reole for about a week now and everything had gone to schedule. The whispers in the streets, the hushed words at the edge of ears that were just itching to pull the trigger. To hold up knives and cry, "Enough!" That hadn't been his doing, though. She had handled that all on her own.
But the bloodshed was becoming boring. The body-toll turning to nothing more than a waste. And the Avaricious felt himself gnawing at the bit more and more each day.
There was a train. One primed and ready to head south. That was his ticket and they'd never see it coming. In all of the commotion, in the fires that would follow - he would be long gone and by then, it'd be far too late for any of them to figure it out.
A grin slid up his face and Greed tossed the apple into the air. Caught it with a quick-snatch of the wrist. He passed by a beggar and dropped the rest into a tin-can.
"Thank you, kind sir. For your charity," he heard in his passing.
Greed tossed his hand over his head without a second glance. His private smile deadly and unseen. "It's not charity friend - I'm just not that good of a guy."
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➥ OPEN | welcome to the late 1700s
Greed hardly ever got the chance to see it.
But he had plans - big plans.
Covetous fingers snatched an apple as he passed by. A flick of a coin behind him shut any protest that would have followed and he bent and turned. Chasing the flurry of movement with one of his own. To anyone who didn't know, he looked the part of a staggering drunk trying to find his way home. Or one of those others. That had long since lost their mind to the trails and tribulations of the day.
Neither were true.
Greed snapped at the curved side of an apple. Sliced his teeth right in and pulled. He didn't need it, not really. Not like the people around him needed it and it was more a casual luxury at best. His coat tails whipped behind him - hard leather, worn, and he sunk his head forward to peel away from the thick tangle of fur at his collar.
He had been stationed in Reole for about a week now and everything had gone to schedule. The whispers in the streets, the hushed words at the edge of ears that were just itching to pull the trigger. To hold up knives and cry, "Enough!" That hadn't been his doing, though. She had handled that all on her own.
But the bloodshed was becoming boring. The body-toll turning to nothing more than a waste. And the Avaricious felt himself gnawing at the bit more and more each day.
There was a train. One primed and ready to head south. That was his ticket and they'd never see it coming. In all of the commotion, in the fires that would follow - he would be long gone and by then, it'd be far too late for any of them to figure it out.
A grin slid up his face and Greed tossed the apple into the air. Caught it with a quick-snatch of the wrist. He passed by a beggar and dropped the rest into a tin-can.
"Thank you, kind sir. For your charity," he heard in his passing.
Greed tossed his hand over his head without a second glance. His private smile deadly and unseen. "It's not charity friend - I'm just not that good of a guy."