The growing pain in her stomach caused her to pull her knees to her chest. The faint sound of rocks rolling under the souls of her boots as she slid them nearer to her could be heard echoing through the thin alleyway where she sat. The thick fabric of her coat scraped against her breeches as she wrapped her arms around her knees a buried her cold face into them. Amora sniffed a bit, trying to bite back the tears that began to form in the corners of her big eyes. No matter how many beatings she endured, the dark haired thief would never grow used to it. An uncomfortable burning sensation began to form in the pit of her stomach. Amora gritted her teeth and dug her short bitten-off nails into the coarse wool that made her coat.
A single droplet of salty water managed to escape the tight grasp of her eyes and began to gently roll down her right cheek, leaving behind a very thin trail of water. The girl turned her head slightly, causing her hair to move around her back and fall to her right side as she did. She aggressively rubbed the wetted cheek onto her rough sleeve, not caring about the redness the fabric caused as it scratched against her skin. She sniffed again in an attempt to use every bit of willpower she had not to let another tear fall. The last thing she wanted was to be seen walking home with red blotchy eyes and a puffy face. The embarrassment would be something she would not want to have to deal with on top of the situation she just put herself in. She had no idea why in the world she thought the couple would leave the home vacant and only take a couple of bags with them. Of course someone else had to reside there. Or why the petch they would leave anything of value behind without someone to guard it.
It was a stupid, compulsive act she knew she should have thought out more. It was no wonder she found herself being beaten so often. If she would only take the time to think out and plan things she could avoid to much pain and so many bruises. It really was incredible she wasn’t already dead. Amora knew if she were to continue to live her life the way she did- living through the financial loss of others- she would need to learn to defend herself. The old dull blade her brother gave her when they were kids wasn’t going to do it for much longer. It wasn’t as if she knew how to use it anyway. The most she ever really used it for was to look intimidating and to clumsily stab or slash an attacker in a panic.
The dagger rarely ever got to taste blood, and that’s the way the thief liked to keep it. Unlike the majority of sickening souls that roamed the streets of Sunberth, Amora didn’t like the mere thought of killing someone- or even hurting someone for that matter. That was the incredible difference between herself and her brother. He found his way in the world as an assassin. It really wasn’t a surprise to her, though, considering the awful brutal murder of their father he unfortunately had to witness at a very young age. Amora was selfish and greedy, but she believed it was simply out of necessity. She hadn’t any skills of trade that could help her land a ‘safe’ job. The ability to dance or to properly seduce a man were foreign arts to her. Besides, just sticking her hand into the unaware pockets of people who passed by was very enjoyable for her.
It wasn’t really known to her that if she did learn how to do any sort of productive or payable service that she would actually use it. Amora knew that her father could have possibly made a good living by just simply being a laborer, cook, guardsman, or butcher, but he always chose the way of thievery over all of that. It was dangerous and stupid but he didn’t ever care. She guessed that something about breaking into someone’s home and taking things they worked so hard for gave him some sort of pleasure that having a ‘normal’ job wouldn’t. She wondered if she would be the same way if she ever were given the opportunity to do more with her life.
Amora’s mother wasn’t ever really a thief. A liar definitely, but not a thief. Rayana found her calling by selling people things that weren’t exactly what she made them out to be. She also had a knack for getting rid of sought-after items that went missing from the houses of the victims. It was a huge step up from being nearly sold into slavery and having been a beggar for so long. Neither Rayana or Amora possessed the womanly charm that so many men sought after, but Amora’s father, Ajak, fell for her mother the moment she pulled on his breeches while begging for her next meal. They were both incredibly young, but they both needed someone to lean on. He took her in and they stayed together through thick and thin, and two children. It wasn’t until Ajak died that they were ever separated, but Rayana still stayed faithful to her love by spending much of her time around the Slag Heap Fire to memorialize his place of physical departure.
Amora herself often could be found around the fire too, drinking and stealing from anyone who wasn’t paying enough attention in his honor. He was the one who inspired her to be the person she was. She knew that she would never have to kill her body by doing hard labor to make enough mizas to survive. She knew she would never have to even
sell her body to be able to afford her next meal. She know she would never have to get on her hands and knees to beg for the spare change people didn’t really care about. He taught her that she could always just take what she needed and wanted. He taught her to never let anyone take advantage of her and that she was strong. It was unfortunate that she never really believed in her own strength or even taught herself to be able to fight off anyone who threatened to harm her in any way. If her father’s departure didn’t come so soon he would have been the one to teach her a thing or two. He wasn’t the strongest or the quickest, but he was very smart. He knew how to point out someone’s weak points by observing their movements, and he would use that to his advantage.
All she had to rely on was the pathetic dull dagger her brother gave to her so many years ago. He could have been the one to teach her but the thought of revenge drove his actions more than his love for his family. One day she’d learn, and one day she’d be the richest thief to ever exist.
Something warm began to track down her right arm, causing the thief’s head to shoot up and her left hand to immediately grab her shoulder. Her cold fingers could feel that the coarse wool had been cut through, and that there was a warm liquid that stained the outside of the fabric. Amora allowed her fingers to trail into the opening. The wool gently scratched against her skin as she tried to assess the damage the man caused to her. The slightest touch to her separated skin caused her to flinch in pain and grit her teeth. She was trying harder than before to fight back the tears that started to form up again, only a few being able to escape. The dark haired girl slid her left hand down her rough sleeve to her right elbow, then wrapped her fingers around it and tried to twist her arm to see how deep the cut was. She hadn’t even noticed until that moment that the man had actually cut her. The dagger that he used must have had to be very well-sharpened to be able to cut through her thick jacket and skin with such ease. Amora put herself in an awkward position, making the pain in her stomach grow more, to try to look at it.
Out of the corner of her left eye she could see the shadow of someone approaching her. Quickly she used the rough sleeve that hadn’t been cut to wipe away the tears that had managed to fall. Amora pushed the soft palms of her hands against the hard wood of the building that she leaned against, then shifted her weight to where she could slide her right foot under her and push herself onto her feet. A rush of sharp pain through her abdomen caused her to wrap her arms around her midsection and rest her bottom against the wall once more while doubled over in pain. She let out a small groan and turned her head to try to see who was nearing her, but was unable to due to the amount of hair that shielded her view.
With one hand she tangled her fingers into her thick black hair and tried to create a gap through the curtain of long strands that obstructed her view. All she could make out was that the person was indeed a female, and she was armed.
“
Oh please just put that away. I have no miza and my clothes aren’t worth your time I promise,” she lied. At least about the mizas anyway. She did have a few copper and a couple silver tucked away in the side of her left boot, but she really didn’t feel like giving it up- even if that meant another beating. From the looks of the woman though, she seemed to be well matched.
OOCUuugghh I can't make my brain puke up anymore useless reply material XD I tried...