chasing adventure

gin bishop twenty two, thief in training, future magpie ❝ i long to do wild, passionate things.❞ – katherine mansfield

[omarsawiris-blog]

He’d look at himself in the mirror more than twice before leaving his suite and sighed heavily. When he had to pick his own undercover identity, he knew he couldn’t be the common tourist, not in winter at least, when it was cold and raining and he was supposed to stay in the dark, trying to noticing things without getting noticed. Deciding to go for some kind of anonymous identity, Omar decided to wear a dark pair of pants, a dark pullover underneath a dark coat. It wasn’t that fancy but the lack of any kind of bright color in his outfit made him cringe. It was awful. He definitely looked like no one, but he hated how his outfit reminded him of his childhood, when all his clothes were made of dark shades of blue and black.

Exiting the lavish elevator (but what wasn’t lavish in that hotel?), Omar excused himself when another man bumped into him. It wasn’t his fault, unlike the other man he was actually looking where he was going, but the “I’m sorry,” said with a desperate and strong American accent escaped him mouth without a second thought. Getting into the part meant also trying to fake an accent, right? Probably not. He noticed a mirror and stopped himself to look at his painful clothes once again until he heard a female voice. Initially, he looked around, thinking the girl was talking to somebody else but oddly enough, the lobby was empty, except for two busy receptionists. “I––well, I–I don’t think they’d be very happy.” Omar said, looking down Gin. “I mean, their hotels are luxurious and everything and while I don’t think that something missing would be a big thing, I think they would be quite… bothered, at least, by getting something stolen from them.”

[ginxbishop]

“Depends what it was. Some things are precious. Some things aren’t. And some people are so rich that they don’t notice nor care.” That was a world away from the environment she was accustomed to, where everything had its place. Her Mother, stressing sentimentality on the most basic of objects (usually those taken from a more affluent past) had attached value to the most ridiculous of things - old pageant dresses, a good saucepan. Her Father? All he cared about was booze. And her sister? Anna had her cars. Objects for Gin, were less significant. It was memories that set her heart on fire. Memories and experiences, glimpses of the world and the freckled smiles they would bring. “I suppose it would be a slight. And I wouldn’t want my invitation revoked - this place is like paradise.”

[tatrisalol-blog]

Evie sighs, cursing their opponents once again for what situations they’ve forced her into. Rarely before has she been paired together with so many New Kids in a night - the only consolation being that they are, in some part, her responsibility. Magpies who haven’t fully extended their wings, privy to rookie mistakes and careless errors. “Right,” she responds; a word that too often becomes the default when she doesn’t have the heart or preoccupation to reprimand her protegees. In her mouth, it becomes both a dismissal and a vague acknowledgment - she simply isn’t in the mood tonight for more elaborate lectures. 

Casting a sharp glance at Gin when she asks to pet the dog (as if they were on a casual stroll rather than a pointed mission), Evie quirks an eyebrow, not slowing her step. “Do what you want. It’s your hand,” she says simply, and leaves it at that. Yet the dog trots besides her as if imbued with a missive of its own, far from dangerous, obediently hailing when they reach their destination, a gate hidden beneath frozen lichen and withered foliage. 

[ginxbishop]

Given how that interaction went down, a new motto forms in her mind. First impressions don’t matter that much. It’s much easier to quell the unease building at her core when she considers the situation from that angle. One hand outstretched as her words tumble over her head, Gin quickly pauses in her pursuit. I’ll pet the next one. After all, what’s that saying? Dogs take after their owners and whilst fear isn’t an accurate descriptor of her perception of the Villiers girl, Evie strikes her as someone who isn’t afraid to bite, if and when the occasion calls for it.

Approaching the iron clad date - straight out of history itself - Gin can only pause, waiting for Evie to assume the role of lead - intent on watching her each and every movement, itching to learn, itching to improve. They are the generation of yet to come - and at some point in the future, it is Evie’s shoulder she will stand beside. Best to learn the tricks now - right? “I’m guessing the dog is here for his keen sense of smell? But how does that help? How can he hunt something he’s never caught the scent of?”

[milomalloryhayes]

“Clearly, you’ve never travelled with Rosie and have her be in charge of the map,” Milo laughed. Of course, it was all teasing – it reminded him of the day they spent together just a few weeks back, and their dwelling in old stories, the past, their former lives. Milo followed Gin, letting her lead the way; him trying to find it himself had ended up in this, and she seemed to know better where they were heading than he. “I figured you were being a friend. Making friends always comes so easy to Rosie, and I’m glad it does.” If they were trapped in the Heist Society, friends would do his sister good. 

Gin turned, and so did Milo. He pulled his suitcase along, the wheels scraping loudly against the pavement. “It’s just because we’re used to it,” he assured. “But hey, I have total faith in you, if that helps any.”

[ginxbishop]

“I can see where the problem is already. You need to ditch the map and get into the 21st century - google maps is a thing, you know.” And thus far, it had been her lifeline in Rome - the twisty narrow lanes of guidebook maps beyond her understanding. Having the app that told you to turn left in 100 years was far superior - no matter what some people might argue. Blinking through the sunlight, she tilting her head to match the app - satisfied as she turned right, Milo following behind, even if all the buildings resembled each other down to the finest of details. “It probably shouldn’t, if I’m being honest. Although I was always map reader when Whiskey drove.” A casual shrug lines her shoulders as she reflects back on the memories, two girls from a lifetime ago.

[esmeraldaknight]

“No honour among thieves,” she quipped, halfway tempted to slip out of her coat and collapse on one of the couches that littered the room, exhausted by questions, hers, and truth, none. Esme took the scarf from her pocket again, wishing it was silk she could use to tie up spun-gold blonde hair, settling instead for looping it around her neck again, the picture of indecision, angled towards the street she had come in from. She hated not holding the upper hand, on her knees and begging for answers. And she hated the idea of the catacombs, of disturbing the dead for the sake of what amounted to such greed, and then the image of Claudia had crept back into her head. Murdered. She had been privileged and naïve, but no one deserved to die.

“Know probably isn’t the best word,” Esme said, pulling her hair back from her forehead and into a tight ponytail, stealing another glance at him. “He works in Frankfurt, usually.” The other girl had an American accent, and she hesitated a moment, unsure of whether it would be condescending to elaborate. “For the European Central Bank. He used to consult for Credit Suisse. He controls large quantities of Euros.” It had been a rare side job, reconnaissance ordered on one of the nightingale’s clients that had lead her to him, for future use. 

“I would be careful if I had my eye on him, he’s paranoid and security-minded.”

[ginxbishop]

There’s something about this girl that exudes the air of mystery. Somehow, Gin believes you could know her without ever truly knowing her - and that she would always be in control of that appearance. Studying her, she’s not sure if it’s sheer genius or unnerving - although she supposes she has plenty of time to decide either way. The hunt for the Goblet has only just began - and they have all the time in the world. “He already sounds like the perfect target. Although I’m guessing you know that already?” Second only to the heist itself, delving deeper into the personal histories of those among the society is her favourite past time, drawn into their tales of deceit and trickery. 

“I love a challenge.” Words issued with an edge of dominance, Gin once again raises her eyes to study them - to unravel every detail with her mind, complete the puzzle sending spirals through her cerebral complex. Young, bright and fresh - no task is too big, no person too hard, the realms of impossible drawn very much into reality. Perhaps its dangerous, perhaps its foolish - but it feels undeniably right. And who can argue with instinct? Certainly, she isn’t bothering to try. “I guess that puts you out. Pity, there’s nothing like a good mark to introduce yourself.”

[isaxbeauregard-blog]

The small plate of food in front of Isabel remained untouched as she skimmed through her phone’s notifications, occasionally adjusting her sunglasses while sitting on the front patio of the quaint cafe. Italian food never interested her (she preferred French cuisine), but the wine was exquisite. She was already on her second glass.

Although the cafe was nice and the Roman air was pleasant, she would rather be working in the heist- helping out her crew and family and being useful. But there was only so much a pick pocket and a distraction could do in a time like this. So instead of being a valued member like she wanted, she could only resort to drinking Italian wine in the sun and scrolling through social media, while simultaneously trying to remain inconspicuous from those who might recognize her.

[ginxbishop]

It was impossible to mistake the spring in her step for anything short of joy, Gin transformed into a girl who knew nothing but happiness, a beam of sunshine, radiating pure and utter light as she transgressed down the windy streets of Rome - eyes set firmly ahead as she paved her path, one destination and one person on her mind. At the height of her success, there was only one person she wanted to share it with - Whiskey. Waiting for her sister to reply to Ciro’s text - and not seeing the dapple blonde locks appear - Gin was intent on hunting out her sister for herself. Catching sight of another blonde on her way back, Gin narrowed her eyes - only half sure in her estimation of identity - and not wanting to confuse a naive Italian with a strong resemblance. Eventually satisfied she met the criteria, Gin paused, turning to look at her. “Didn’t you get the text? We’ve found the goblet. Well, we found many goblets.”

[alessiacapecchi-blog]

When Ciro had sent the Society a message via radio that he had found something, Alessia was all but going to order her brother to clarify what he had found in precise and detailed terms in case he misjudged the situation - she didn’t put it past him - but as she was only a short walk from Marcellino e Pietro she decided she would give her brother and the Bishop girl the benefit of a doubt. Besides, she wondered why he would radio everyone, including their father if it was anything but of the upmost importance. 

Alessia walked quickly, taking a slightly longer route than she would have knowing that the entire Society would try to make their way over to Ciro’s location. When she finally reached her destination she immediately tried to scope out her brother wanting to wring out each and every detail of his exploration, walking onwards she caught flashes of gold in a cave just a short way in front of her. It was only upon further investigation, that she caught sight of hundreds, no thousands of the very artefact that they all were searching to find.

Almost tentatively Alessia reached out grabbing a goblet, examining it carefully, turning it over in her palms, looking at the detailing before throwing it on the stone floor in rage. A fake. Dozens and dozens and dozens of fakes. 

“Fuck. Fuck this cazzate. I’m leaving, I’m leaving to find this bastardo and slit their throat.” 

[ginxbishop]

There was a certain amount of variation in the expressions tonight. Some were of pure bewilderment, staring down at the hundreds of replicas, uncertain of the task that lay ahead. Some had begrudging admiration for the thief at hand - the skill and intelligent that lay behind the whole operation. And then there was those like Alessia, who reacted in anger - red hot searing rage at the bastard who had placed them in this predicament, nothing to do but search by hand until they found the real thing. And even then, how could it truly be verified?

The woman in both a senior position and someone Gin really didn’t want to be on the shit list of, she stopped herself from pointing out the flaws in her argument as soon as her words settled in the air, allowing them to play over and over again in her head before searching for a more practical - and logical - solution. Besides, she hardly suspected the culprit would be around for convenience. If this was his game, then he would be safe and secure - a world away. Yet somehow, she still had the distinct feeling of being watched.

“There’s more satisfaction by beating them. Soon enough, we’ll find what they so desperately want to hide. Their game will be over. And they’ll be poor.”

[alistair-villiers-blog]

The moment he heard the call go out over the radio, Alistair went, feet carrying him to the place Ciro had called from. He didn’t like the vagueness of the call, but recognized the boy’s voice. If he hadn’t, he likely wouldn’t have responded. But he wanted to get out of here sooner rather than later and the best way to do that was lend a hand. He made more than a few wrong turns on his way over to Gin and Ciro but when his feet found their way to the final (or so he hoped) location of the night, they slowed as his eyes widened and he drank in everything surrounding him. 

“Holy shit,” Hundreds of cups. Hundreds of cups filling an already dark room. How on earth was this ever going to work out? It was already midnight and their work had surely just begun. He drug a hand down his tired face and he took in the practical thrown of cups around them. “Well this is going to be a very long night, isn’t it?”

[ginxbishop]

“Maybe we can take it in turns to do coffee runs?” The undeniable fact of the weight of such a task sat in front of them. It was clear that they were bound to this location until the real prize was found - no matter how long that took. Somehow, she believed it might take even longer than a night. Despite that, she refused to let crushing spirits dampen her optimism. She had found this. (Well, she and Ciro but she could share credit). She had been instrumental to this heist. Her name would be exchanged among the greats, perhaps followed by a nod of approval. This was the heist that would begin the rest of her career. “Shotgun not first run?” A bemused smile ghosting on her lips, she turned to match her eyes with that of the Villiers son - her first time at seeing him up close, the stooping figure behind the infamous family reputation.

[sophiecooksondaily]

Sophie Cookson for Gemfields Ruby Stories

[cirocapecchi-blog]

Gin jokes, her voice lilted by the humor and flippancy that her words carry, but Ciro has known from a young age that jokes are often made with a grain of truth behind them. Nothing is ever entirely in jest, nothing too ludicrous to brush away entirely, and truthfully, her theory seems as plausible as any in their situation. Two weeks ago, they spun through the Villiers’ manor, accoutered in wealth, and now they near the entrance to a centuries-old catacomb, one in which the fate of their very livelihood may lay. They are at the epicenter of a mystery rooted in murder, both of the Sommers family and thousands upon thousands of forgotten prisoners, and, well, hiding a treasure among the corpses of Christian martyrs seems strangely appropriate, does it not?

Still, Ciro raises an eyebrow at her, the corners of his mouth tugging into smile as he says, “I certainly wouldn’t put it past them.” His pace slows as his gaze lands on an iron gate, padlocked and laid into an arch of dilapidated stone, comes into view.  He pauses, brows knitting together in concentration, and gestures forward. It is his voice whose cadence shifts with jest now: “Can I not be the attractive detective? It seems my detecting skills are quite good.” A moment passes as he waits for Gin to make the first move toward the gate; she is new to their society, and practice makes perfect, and for now, he is happy to sit back while she gains them entrance to this sequestered burial chamber.

Ciro’s  focus shifts back to their conversation after a beat: “As far as languages go, no. Not quite hundreds. Almost, though. Italian is what I know best—and Sicilian, too—but I grew up speaking English as well. The rest came later, Russian and Spanish both among them.” He leaves it at that, no elaboration or additional details offered, least of all about his mother and her influence. Enigma is, after all, his most favorite weapon, and he decided long ago that the less information about him circulating, the better. He nods his head towards the gate once more, murmuring, “Haces tu peor.”

[ginxbishop]

“Well, how about whoever finds the goblet gets to be the attractive detective?” Her flashlight illuminates the dark, the cold pressing against her skin. But she doesn’t mind. She’s far too alive for the likes of that. The heist has ignited her life, creating something utterly inordinary out of the mundane, something she feared would always be beyond her capabilities of living. And to think, if not for a gun shot, she would still be back in that small town in Texas - her youth withering away under the pressure of the small town only Texas can pull off it its magnificence. “No one likes a show off.” It’s envy that strikes her bones. He’s an individual with a hundred more experiences than her, a man who has seen so much more of the world.  Even if that sits on the edge of danger, she wants it.

There’s a sharp turn left and then a right. There’s no lanterns lighting their way now. Flash. Red light illuminates the passage, an oddity among the old. Figuring it to be a figment of her imagination, Gin turns on her heels, patiently waiting for it to strike again - willing it into reality. Nudging Ciro at her side, her finger traces the path ahead. “Do you see that?” They are but two figures among a maze of tunnels, cut off in isolation of the world. “I didn’t make that up did I?” Keeping her voice to a hushed tone (for you never quite know who is listening) she begins to bounce on her heels as the light flashes again. “We should follow it.”

[milomalloryhayes]

Gin was one of the many people Milo knew about, but had never personally met. Not until now, anyways. That he bumped into her in the middle of Rome was a way to meet though, wasn’t it? A chance meeting on the street, though considering the entire society had gathered in this place they were meant to meet sooner or later. It was convenient that they did now, because despite having Google Maps open on his phone, Milo was completely lost. Maybe Gin could help.

“I was too busy looking at my phone,” Milo assured. There was a rhythm to her speech that was familair, and it made him smile a bit bigger. “I wish I was just carrying that around, believe me. But I’m actually looking for the hotel. You think you can help me out?”

Milo was exhausted to the bone. He yearned for a warm shower and a soft bed, taking a quick nap before duty called and Francis had a task for him. “You know, I blame the jetlag, because I’m normally not this bad with direction. Now, if my sister was trying to find the hotel, then we would have been screwed for sure.”

[ginxbishop]

“Awe come on, you give Rosie a bad rap.” Light tones and a jesters voice, Gin fell into step with her American compatriot, her own sharp eyes searching the landscape for familiarity - sure that the hotel had to be around the corner, somewhere. “You did a good thing by not asking a local - one whiff of our accent and they run for the hills.” She could only wish she was exaggerating. Even speaking in broken Italian didn’t seem to help. “Although, yours definitely isn’t as strong as Rosie’s. And I promise, not a stalker, just a friend.”

One quick glance down at her map and she took a sharp turn to the left, about 90% confident this was the correct direction. “It’s this way. I think. I arrived two days ago and all honesty, it’s pretty easy to get lost. I never thought I’d miss the grid systems of back home - but these little alleys were designed to confuse you, I’m sure.” Maybe she could add map reading to her resume. 

[esmeraldaknight]

She was fixing the chequed scarf that lay thick around her neck, trench coat still covered in a layer of the fine mist that blanketed the capital city in winter when she heard the unacknowledged question. Lees. It was their hotel, she knew that, it was why she had ducked into it for solace, to consider where she would go next, whose lap she would find herself in, which hem she would hold onto and trail along behind. She turned toward the speaker, choosing to unwind the wool circling her throat entirely, folding it neatly and tucking it in one deceptively large pocket.

“It seems like the kind of thing that might bother them,” Esme said, watching her. She looked her age, and familiar, but that must have been their shared company at work. “Then again, I can’t say for certain, I haven’t spent very much time among them.” She smiled a half-smile that became full when she followed the girl’s gaze to the watch. The idea of plucking little trinkets from wrists had never really interested her, but the man wearing it caught her eye. She recognised him, an insider from a previous job she had never managed to get ahold of. Banker. 

[ginxbishop]

“We’re all thieves, aren’t we?” Despite the words that left her mouth, she knew it wasn’t a whole truth that resonated them with. Some were thieves, but others preferred a more technical approach, hackers who worked wonders with their minds and fingers, distractions with their beauty and grace (she thought that was what this woman did, but appearances could be deceiving) and masterminds, their heads swirling with plots and deception. It was only now, working together, that Gin was beginning to fully appreciate just how different each crew was - not to mention the people within.

“That might be a good thing.” Some might advise her to be less careless with her words, but Gin paid little attention to them. She had always spoken with her heart, with true honesty, paying little attention to the politics and sensitivity of it all. Hopefully, the blonde, her name still deceiving her, would feel the same. Watching her eyes as she focused upon the potential target, Gin saw the sparks of recognition. “Do you know him?” A twitch of the face, a half smile, hushed voices, the hint of a secret between the pair.

[dominik-woo-blog]

Dominik rushed from the overhead, across the cobblestone that paved Rome’s roads. The temperature had dropped with the sudden influx of clouds and before Dominik knew it, the sky had opened up over him and cold water drops had fallen. At least Dom finally figure out why his knee had been hurting worst than usual. He had hoped from a slight reprieve from the extreme cold and storms in Rome, but apparently  luck wasn’t going to favor him today. The hotel was in sight and he was ever grateful for its sight, even if his plans for the rest of the day had been disrupted. 

Entering the hotel, Dom wasn’t prepared for the lack of traction between his shoes and the the floor. He cursed, over compensating in his accent so it sounded purely American, barely managed to stop himself from falling. So when  he saw Gin sitting there and asking him something a bit idiotic, he couldn’t help but stare. “I think they would mind quite a bit.” Dominik finally replied, thinking to his own escapades before the Lee’s took him into their family. They hadn’t been pleased with the money he had scammed from them, regardless that he had made it back for them and more. “Surely we can find something for you to do that won’t anger Raphael.”

[ginxbishop]

Gin was hardly surprised at the words that dripped from his mouth, simply disappointed in them - although she supposed you could hardly expect anything less from someone associated with the Lees. There were times she struggled to put her finger on what it was exactly that irritated her about them - but she supposed it was the general morality they exuberated, the attitude of superiority. Perhaps it was unfair to typecast a whole crew in one defining feature - but it was definitely the overall attitude she had picked up on after jut a few interactions with a spectrum of individuals. 

“Well, I wasn’t planning on getting caught.” Perhaps it was overconfidence in her own abilities, but eyeing the couple she desperately wanted to scam, she knew it was will within her capabilities. People like them had defined her entire life, the town she grew up in, an uncomfortable reminder of her roots, ones she wasn’t entirely sure whether she wanted to shake or not. “Any suggestions?” She wasn’t sure when you would become we but now he was here, she was intent on roping him in to whatever situation she could.

[ginxbishop]

If Gin had one complaint to make about the entire situation, it would be that the thief had chosen to strike in the heart of Winter - rather in the winds of spring or the summer sun. What could have been pacing among the heated cobbles of Rome had turned into sweaters and jeans along the architecture, shivering as the sun sunk under the sky before five each afternoon. Although practically balmy compared to Russia, it was a far cry from the dry heat of Texas - the sort of heat that never faded. Still, as the years passed, those memories began to fade further, she was sure, that soon, they would fade from existence all together. 

Dissatisfied with the rain that pounded outside, Gin sunk into an armchair in the Hotel lobby, foot impatiently tapping the ground as she searched for anything else to do. Opportunity struck as a loud American voice floated over to her, eyes settling upon the gilded watch in question. “Do you think the Lees would care if we stole in their hotel?” She cared little for authority (or the Lees, for that matter) but causing an escalated argument between the groups was far from her intention. “We do have a lot of time to kill.”

[cirocapecchi-blog]

Ciro’s words are quiet, barely audible amid the shadows encasing them: “On that, we agree.” The concession is small, entirely insignificant in his opinion, but he is well aware of the rarity with which he accords with another’s opinion, least of all someone as unfamiliar to him as the woman at his side, and consequently, there is a part of him that hopes Gin appreciates it. There is something about that that feels inexplicably conceited, but he pushes the thought out of his mind before it is fully formed. They are not exactly equals, even less so because of her status as a Magpie initiate, but they are closer in rank and importance than himself and a vast majority of the rest of the heist; to lord over her would feel discordant and wrong.

His musings quiet as she pipes up once more, her Southern twang reminding him vaguely of the other pair of siblings within the society that hail from Texas. It is with a slight abruptness that he questions them: are they and the Bishops friends? Acquaintances? Surely, they must be one or the other. Eyebrows knitting together, Ciro nods, brushes his thoughts away once more, and says, “They’re saints. Marcellinus and Peter, if you prefer them in English. It doesn’t matter, but they’re supposed to be buried in these catacombs.” He pauses, then glances at Gin with an inquisitive expression on his face. “Do you only speak English?” The very idea of being monolingual is distinctly foreign to him, and for this moment, he sounds genuinely interested in her answer.

[ginxbishop]

“Maybe the Goblet is with them.” The lightness in her tone can only be interpreted as a jest, half a joke descending from her lips, but the other half of her believes she could be right. This entire time, they’ve been playing a game. One step behind. This is a person who appreciates the poetry of the situation, the irony of it all - to be toyed with and strung around.The heist is a test - this test one of the most instrumental of them all. Is it really so wrong to assume that the object of their desires could be buried down deep, somewhere with a historic meaning? “This definitely has a The Da Vinci Code ring to it. Who do you want to be? The detective or attractive sidekick?”

In response to his question, she shakes her head. It is, again, a half a truth. “Aprendí español en la escuela secundaria.” The words dance on her lips, a second skin long concealed under her bones. In a world dominated by English, there’s very little chance to dance with the Romance languages. “I’m learning Russian and Italian too.” Slowly, at a snails pace, but she stubbornly stands by the idea that it’s the thought that counts, the drive and motivation behind it all. “Let me guess - you’v’e mastered hundreds?” She would hardly be surprised, to look into Ciro’s eyes is to see the world - hardly imagining him to be inadequate at anything. 

[milomalloryhayes]

Rome was anything but familair, and Milo had a hard time hiding the fact that he felt wrong in this place.

It wasn’t the city itself. Definitely not, no. Its beauty was a pulsing energy, so alive, so full of individual heartbeats that merged into one, booming and big, belonging to a glorious beast ancient and with history scarring its back. There were corners and alleyways to explore, hidden, unknown, stray beauties often missed by the tourists coming here to enjoy their planned vacation. Behind the obvious curtain of wealth and pride lay an entirely different world. It would be Milo’s everything these next few days; he would eat, breath, and sleep in the same bed with the Heist. The clock was ticking, and all of them were trying to catch the sand before it ran through the cracks of their fingers for good.

What made him nervous was all the big players gathered in one place. Here they were, the bosses, the businessmen, the somethings, and then there was Milo…a simple worker, rat in the shadow following its pack.

Pulling his suitcase along, Milo repeatedly glanced at his phone in an desperate attempt to find the course the navigation wanted him to take. He furrowed his eyebrows and muttered something angry under his breath – damn this, damn that, damn everything and their mother! He was tired, the taxi driver had chattered away and not given him one moment of peace, and all he wanted to do was find his crew. But, of course, he had to run into someone. He just had to.

“Oh!” Milo made, coming to an aprubt halt. He took a few steps back, utterly taken by surprise. “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry.”

[ginxbishop]

Excitement pounded through her veins, heart working overtime to feed the adrenaline to each and every cell of her body. For some, this is the work of the every day, something they had done a million times before. But for Gin, the girl who manages to find the exceptional among the ordinary, nothing has ever quite felt like magic. Within days, they’d have their hands on the enigma - the one piece of the puzzle that had deceived them and the chase would come to an end. Although it would save the exposure of their society, she couldn’t help but mourn a little. There would be other heists, but on a scale like this, with everyone brought together? One could only imagine the sheer possibilities. 

Satchel firmly secure at her side, guide book out and translation app feeding into her ear (she had brought an Italian for Beginners one, annoying everyone on the train over from Amsterdam). Wide eyes took in the world at her feet - a stark world away from where she had seen herself, just a few short years ago. Rome was beautiful, a city to remember, a city both to lose and find yourself within. And that was exactly what she intended on doing. Her mind shooting in a million directions, at a million miles an hour, it was no wonder her course was directed towards collision - crash. 

The apology that came to mind was immediately formed in another language (so apparently the app was working) until she squinted into the sunlight - seeing that their face was one of slight familiarity. Milo, better known as Rosie’s brother and a fellow Southerner - not that she could recall striking up a conversation with him within their mutual circles. “It’s all my fault. Seriously. Don’t worry. Are you er - just carrying that around or looking for the hotel?”

[cirocapecchi-blog]

The night is dark and the street dimly lit, but even among the shadows, Gin Bishop glows. She radiates excitement, an endearing quality if not a dangerous one, and for but a moment, Ciro sees himself reflected in her. He keeps it hidden beneath the façade of a collected millionaire playboy, a man always far too cool to care, but he, too, feels the thrill of the heist, that which the girl beside him wears so blatantly. It is not entirely dissimilar to Evie Villiers’ utter ebullience, but there has always been something mysterious and enigmatic about the specific way that she manages to light up a room, and Gin does not quite possess that. She is radiant, no doubt, but not necessarily in a way that makes Ciro question her.

She smiles in response to her own joke, mouth twisting and eyes aglow as they pass beneath a street lamp, and he raises his eyebrows. “I would imagine that ancient Roman ghosts have better things to do than chase a goblet across the globe with us.” His voice is quiet, tone matter-of-fact and approaching sarcastic, but there is something unmistakably authentic beneath that. Eyeing her as she continues, Ciro’s step slows, and he gestures vaguely to the church now behind them. “The parishioners are responsible for these catacombs. Marcellino e Pietro?” The way that he mentions the saints’ names makes it sound as if he expects Gin to know exactly what he is referring to, and a part of him does.

[ginxbishop]

“I doubt it. Being a Ghost sounds sort of dull. Same thing, day in, day out? I’d much prefer to liven it up a little.” Where she is light, radiating among the dark, Ciro is the darkness - finely cut, in his own territory, very much belonging to himself. There’s something to be admired in that, something that makes her wonder what lies behind those shadowed eyes, what possible lessons he could have to impart upon her. The bloodline of legends, Ciro descends from the Capecchis, those who wear darkness and thrill hand in hand - who can one moment, chase someone down with a gun and the next, steal their finest treasures. Perhaps, in another life, she could have found her way to their ranks - but in this one, she has no appetite for such cruelty. 

“Sorry - I skipped out on my Ancient Rome class. And I can’t read Italian - so this guide book is out of the question.” Gin gestures wildly, pages flying with the chill wind that blows underground. Huh, she would have imagined it to be still - trapped in another lifetime, but all around them, sees motion. There is more life in death than she ever could have thought of, or indeed, hoped for. “So I guess you’ll be doing the translating then.” Whoever said you couldn’t mix business with pleasure was in the wrong occupation. Here, she beams into the darkness - never feeling more on edge, never having felt more alive. 

[tatrisalol-blog]

In most circumstances, a black-clad girl waiting among the grasses of the Italian moors with a quiet dog in tow would be reason for suspicion. This circumstance is no different. Scanning the horizon before her, leash held tightly in one hand, Evie checks her watch for third time in so many minutes, cursing lack of punctuality beneath her breath. Spontaneous as she is, there is something sacred to meeting times; one of many things passed from Thief Lord to daughter, a deep respect for plans and the ticking of clocks. 

When her partner finally appears, nearly imperceptible beneath the cloak of night, she sniffs and turns on her heel. “You’re late.” Without waiting, she begins to march towards the submerged entrance to a lesser known catacomb system - discovered and never truly explored - they would play the part of plunderers and thieves tonight. Her four-legged companion dutifully trots along - and, well, it’s expected that the two-legged one will follow.

[ginxbishop]

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to - honestly, I just sort of got distracted by the Colosseum.” Never a fan of history (or classics, Gin skipped most of those classes) she had been surprised to find herself so attracted to the deeper richness of the history of Rome, rather than simply just the aesthetics of it. Such excuses probably meant little to Evie, unused to having her rule of law questioned - especially by someone Junior.

Her eyes instantly travel towards the dog, fighting desperately to resist the temptation to bend down and pet it - having begged Whiskey for a pet for months now. I’m sure they can come on the plane too. She made the same argument each time - and every time she did, it always failed. “Can I pet the dog?” Tugging at her lip, Gin can hardly believe the question escaped her mouth - in front of Evie Villiers, a vast admirer of the woman, at possibly the first and last chance of true interaction with her. You can only make first impressions once and here she was, blowing hers.