#thiefcant

[saintsdawn-archive]

“ remind me again of how you fell in with the harpers ? ” florence sweetens the question with the gentlest of shoulder bumps, and the brightest of smiles. she doesn’t give attention to how her tongue tries to tie itself.

even so, she takes great care when saying, “ because i think i’d like to do something. . . more. ”

@thiefcant travels with the cleric.

[elkenbulwark]

@thiefcant cont.

rixian had seen him slip away from the camp and intended to creep after him to catch him in the act of being sneaky, but the music that drifts from the small hole in the wall makes him pause at the edge of it. it's lovely, lovely enough to take his mind off his own intents to steal away with something unattended, and he clears his throat to announce himself before he steps around the corner. " saw you wander off, was making sure you were okay. that -- sounds real good. . .do you mind some company up here? it's a good spot to keep watch. "

There's nothing in the way he holds the lute that suggests he feels the same as the other's sentiment. What was lovely about music anyway? It was as formulaic as a math equation, and nobody thought those were lovely- quite the opposite in fact. And he would have been just as agitated over the subject had he not had it drilled into his head at a young age before tusks could start catching on the edge of a flute until blowing was...well, a reserved action for other matters-

Somewhat glad he'd found the nook in the wall to relax near the triad of falls and the mist that escaped them to cool his skin, he had to pause as the sound of an approach coaxed his gaze over his shoulder, stern and unwelcoming as it was.

"...gettin' asked to watch over someone's batshat ragin' brother, are ya?" He snorted, figuring it wasn't too unheard of to consider that Ren had asked anyone around the camp to keep on their guard around him after the last few series of events made him seem so... unstable. Though with the careful manner with which he strummed the already beaten lute, said accusations seemed far more accusatory than true. "If not, I guess pull up a rock. but if so, you can fuck right off...I don't needs the lookin' down on when m'already so-..." A pause caused him to suck his teeth as he looked down and set to tuning the lute's neck. "...down 'ere deep innit."

[illithicdreams]

@thiefcant​​ // Starter Call

“Perhaps when it comes to the art of stealth you’re more talented than I happen to be.” It took a lot more to admit than than she thought it would, the words are said through gritted teeth pretending to be a dazzling smile. Her own skills had been a point of pride for her in her youth, self-taught for the most part, people never realised how hard it could be to pick pockets while serenading a venue. Particularly the slower ballads.

“Something you always did?” Despite the question, she sounded rather blasé, as if she were talking about the weather. It wasn’t in her nature to be inquisitive, she cared very little for anyone beyond what they could give her (with the exception of her mother) but Tav craved normalcy now more than ever. 

[monagxrie]

Cloth wrapped feet fall into step beside the stranger, "Awful new face for someone who carries himself like a made man." // @thiefcant

[devildarklord]

@thiefcant​ asked: perception check see if you can spot the rogue

( 2 + 14 = 16 )

CALL IT INTUITION, call it paranoia, Strahd never ignored a gut feeling. He was dressed down, more than he was when he was still entertaining the guests. A simple silk robe, loose enough for a fair share of chest hair to be seen, long black locks tied back, unfeeling bare feet on the cold stone floor, his appearance was actually close to human. This was not attire he would ever wear with the intent to be seen — so when he felt watched, it sparked a particular kind of anger. The book was snapped shut and the vampire lord stood up from the love seat in his personal study. A glance to the bedroom door, ajar, and the curtains that moved with the spring wind that wove its way through the open window. 

The vampire was still, tuning out the sound of the drizzle of rain outside, and the gentle crackling of the fire. Like a beast on the hunt, he listened for heartbeat, for shallow breath, waiting to taste sweat in the air. It was there, but it was so faint...

He placed the book on the coffee table, clawed hands moving slowly, gently, to avoid making a sound.

  ❛  No need to run away and hide, my friend. You are not far off from finding the toilet, if that was to be your excuse. ❜

[valorpower]

thiefcant replied to your post: tiny invisible tiptoes until he's snatching...

“ wow, your eyes are so bad. ” a giggle from behind before he reaches out to set the glasses back on his face, still unseen.

He rolls his eyes as his glasses are set back into place. He made a move, to try to catch the hand that touched him but fell short, only sliding against the limb.

“Rixian, this is the second time now?” He sounds amused more so than anything, looking back toward the voice of his friend.

[saintsdawn-archive]

" rugan, huh? " he's being annoying, grinning as he folds his arms over his chest, walking backwards to face her. " he's easy on the eyes, i'll admit. "

Which is worse: knowing her wandering eyes weren’t as subtle as intended, or hearing him say it out loud? It’s a tough decision. 

Rixian’s grin is countered by Florence’s scowl. “ I hadn’t noticed. ” There’s a pause as she considers getting petty revenge – knocking him off balance, leaving him on the ground. “ And I don’t care. ”

It doesn’t happen. Florence keeps walking, scowl unchanging, face flushed, and tone suggesting this conversation should end. “ Isn’t there someone else for you to harass ? ”

[saintsdawn-archive]

@thiefcant said, send ‘ ❄️ ’ for our muses to be snowed in together.

To someone born in the harsh grip of winter and raised with the threat of biting winds, this winter is a tropical storm in comparison. Uncomfortable, but she’ll bite her tongue and push through the cold discomfort.

What has her hissing in displeasure is the touch of cold hands. “ Really ? ” It’s instinct to pull away; however, Florence inches closer and captures both of Rixian’s hands. There’s a warmth – separate from the fire, more akin to magic – that flows from the cleric’s hands.

“ Are the blankets and fire not enough ? ” She says it as a tease. “ We can leave in the morning – go south, and out of the snow. I won’t make you suffer. ”