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forsythWell, I finally sat down and made myself write, and I got something, sorta. The intro to something, a redoing of a story I started a long while ago, now with new improved non-suckiness. I hope. Except the intro didn't even get finished because instead of being short like I'd planned, things kept going off on tangents and filling in a teensy bit of backstory for what's going on and suchlike. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but... Well, look for yourself. And yes, it's only been computer spellchecked, and I have no idea how you spell h'ours d'ourves, I'll look it up when I go back and edit it.
I tossed the pouch full of h'ours d'ourves to Erin, then jumped from the garden shed to the wall. Erin was already off and running along the wall, which was more difficult than it sounds. Those fancy decorative metal pointy fence things on top of walls around rich people's mansions are a lot less decorative than they look from a distance. And pointier, too. But only the tippy-tops, set at a nice height to jab you in sensitive spots if you slip. We were lucky though, some of the more paranoid nobles tend to go in for bits of glass, nails, spikes, and pieces of construction workers who weren't quite quick enough when topping their walls. I'm pretty sure that last one's just a rumor, though. Pretty sure.
I ran after her, though it was a challenge. Less because of the spikes than because aristocrats are masochists and like to wear clothing with ridiculous fasteners and no good ways to move in it. Our exit from the party hadn't really left time to pause somewhere for a dignified change, but Erin really had it worse anyways, so I wasn't gonna complain too hard. At least not where she could hear me, anyway. And those ridiculous skirts gave her good places to stash things, though she'd had to "modify" the outfit a bit to get at them without ridiculous and undignified contortions. Or so she assured me, since she'd turned down my offer to help her figure out the best ways to hide stuff. Wether that was more from modesty or wanting to have a few surprises from me even, I don't know.
Anyway, in far less time than it's taken me to reminisce and go off on tangents, we got to where the wall met a dark little alley. The pond right inside the wall'd kept us from climbing up here, but hopefully none of the guards saw us, they should be dealing with the distraction we'd set up to cover our vanishing act. Amazing the amount of distraction just a little bit of melted butter poured on a dance floor can cause, especially when you combine it with an exploding punch bowl. Just a little explosion, didn't want anybody to get hurt. Too badly.
Erin'd paused by the alley, and was standing looking down. "Well?" I hissed, catching up.
"Shhh," she said, pointing toward the other end of the alley, "And I'm stuck."
I looked down the alley. Great, city guards, a full patrol of six. I haven't the slightest idea why they needed so many up around here, most of the crimes that happened here involved things like endless boxes of paper and empty treasuries and half a ton of gold, not the kinds of things the Guard generally went for. Well, okay, there were rumors that some thieves might try to steal the Silver Salmon Torc during Lady Smirnell's gala, but I mean, honestly. Who'd believe something that unlikely and who'd be dumb enough to try it?
I looked down. Erin's dress was snagged but good, I have no idea how she managed to make it this far. Special female training, I guess. "Hang on," I whispered, "I'll get you loose, then we just drop down and waltz past the guards, acting like we own the place."
I stuck the Silver Salmon Torc inside the... whatever it's called, the funky cloth not-belt thing guys are supposed to wear for some reason, and crouched down by the spike. Erin crouched lower and kept a look out toward the Guards and the house. "How many layers of skirts are there?" I asked, while wriggling the third layer of cloth off the spike.
"Shh. Something's going on."
I looked at the alley. Something was. A servant went running out the front gate, toward the city Guards. "Damn. Next time we do this, I'm going to have to get some clothes that look good but don't suck," I said, yanking the rest of the seemingly endless layers of skirt up off the spike.
Erin didn't say anything, just dropped down the wall, looking more like a dropped laundry basket than a person, lost in as many layers of cloth as she was. I followed, thankful the nobs were picky enough about the smell to have their alleys cleaned out regularly, no unpleasant goop to slip in on landing. We glanced down the alley, currently clear of City Guard. "Let's go," Erin said, doing something fiddly at the top of her skirt. Which then went whumpfthunk, very quietly and fell around her ankles. Which sounds a lot naughtier than it was, since she was wearing some kind of strange lacy pants that were less revealing than normal breaking-into-places gear.
She grabbed the skirt and balled it up over her shoulder, like a sack full of loot. And h'ours d'ourves. I took the opportunity to undo some of the least comfortable and most pointless fasteners on my outfit, then we both darted around the corner, since the Guard'd started clumping about and blowing whistles. That bought us probably half a minute, I guessed. Alley, alley, wall, wall, more alley, more wall, guards in the distance. The wall across from us was mostly overgrown, and what little I could make out of the mansion within was dark. "This way," I said, shucking my stupid coat (also full of shiny things no longer required by their previous owners) and chucked it over the disrepaired wall.
Well, over might be a bit of an overstatement. The coat fluttered like a wounded duck weighed down by the burdens of its life (Footnote 1) and draped itself neatly across the top of the wall. Erin's throw, sadly, was much better, the skirt being more aerodynamic (and having a starting advantage of about six inches) as it coasted over and then down inside the wall. This is all in retrospect, of course, we didn't wait to see what they did, we just clambered up the wall. It was easy, between the disrepair and various overgrowth, hardly like climbing at all, really. I paused long enough to grab the coat and look back at Lady Smirnell's mansion, which was lit up even more than it had been and crowded with purposeful shadows wandering around. (Footnote 2) Then I was over and slid down the vines in to land beside Erin.
"Keep moving?" she asked, poking through the folds of the skirt to make sure nothing'd fallen out.
"Yeah," I said, "But first we should change, this seems pretty secluded... woah," I said.
The inside of the wall and all the land around it were overgrown. Not in any kind of interesting, magical experiment or exotic plants from all over way, just with weeds. Tall weeds, that gave us plenty of cover, besides it being dark. But that's not why I'd said woah. The mansion itself was completely different than all the others around. Not just because it was dark. If the garden was anything to go by, it hadn't been repaired in a while, but the dark covered any disrepair. It had character. Not just the "Look at me! I'm rich! Justify my existence!" character of the others. They called out for attention, this one lurked. It'd been built when styles for architecture tended more for the imposing and scare the crap out of people to show how powerful you are style than the show off money as much as possible style. Peaked roofs, gargoyles, yes, everything. I half-expected a flash of lightning and an ominous roll of thunder, even though it was a clear night.
"Now that's a mansion," Erin said, "Not a nice one, or one I'd want to live in, but definitely a mansion," Erin said.
"Yup," I agreed.
We both probably woulda turned to poke each other back into paying attention at the same time, but the Guard whistles over by the corner of the alley came first. We looked at each other as the Guards clumped and clanked down on the other side of the wall.
Footnote 1: Or, more exactly, burdens of other people's lives. See? Good deed.
Footnote 2: As opposed to before, where most of the bedrooms were at least tastefully dark, and most of the wanderers were aimless, looking for privacy, or just drunk.
I tossed the pouch full of h'ours d'ourves to Erin, then jumped from the garden shed to the wall. Erin was already off and running along the wall, which was more difficult than it sounds. Those fancy decorative metal pointy fence things on top of walls around rich people's mansions are a lot less decorative than they look from a distance. And pointier, too. But only the tippy-tops, set at a nice height to jab you in sensitive spots if you slip. We were lucky though, some of the more paranoid nobles tend to go in for bits of glass, nails, spikes, and pieces of construction workers who weren't quite quick enough when topping their walls. I'm pretty sure that last one's just a rumor, though. Pretty sure.
I ran after her, though it was a challenge. Less because of the spikes than because aristocrats are masochists and like to wear clothing with ridiculous fasteners and no good ways to move in it. Our exit from the party hadn't really left time to pause somewhere for a dignified change, but Erin really had it worse anyways, so I wasn't gonna complain too hard. At least not where she could hear me, anyway. And those ridiculous skirts gave her good places to stash things, though she'd had to "modify" the outfit a bit to get at them without ridiculous and undignified contortions. Or so she assured me, since she'd turned down my offer to help her figure out the best ways to hide stuff. Wether that was more from modesty or wanting to have a few surprises from me even, I don't know.
Anyway, in far less time than it's taken me to reminisce and go off on tangents, we got to where the wall met a dark little alley. The pond right inside the wall'd kept us from climbing up here, but hopefully none of the guards saw us, they should be dealing with the distraction we'd set up to cover our vanishing act. Amazing the amount of distraction just a little bit of melted butter poured on a dance floor can cause, especially when you combine it with an exploding punch bowl. Just a little explosion, didn't want anybody to get hurt. Too badly.
Erin'd paused by the alley, and was standing looking down. "Well?" I hissed, catching up.
"Shhh," she said, pointing toward the other end of the alley, "And I'm stuck."
I looked down the alley. Great, city guards, a full patrol of six. I haven't the slightest idea why they needed so many up around here, most of the crimes that happened here involved things like endless boxes of paper and empty treasuries and half a ton of gold, not the kinds of things the Guard generally went for. Well, okay, there were rumors that some thieves might try to steal the Silver Salmon Torc during Lady Smirnell's gala, but I mean, honestly. Who'd believe something that unlikely and who'd be dumb enough to try it?
I looked down. Erin's dress was snagged but good, I have no idea how she managed to make it this far. Special female training, I guess. "Hang on," I whispered, "I'll get you loose, then we just drop down and waltz past the guards, acting like we own the place."
I stuck the Silver Salmon Torc inside the... whatever it's called, the funky cloth not-belt thing guys are supposed to wear for some reason, and crouched down by the spike. Erin crouched lower and kept a look out toward the Guards and the house. "How many layers of skirts are there?" I asked, while wriggling the third layer of cloth off the spike.
"Shh. Something's going on."
I looked at the alley. Something was. A servant went running out the front gate, toward the city Guards. "Damn. Next time we do this, I'm going to have to get some clothes that look good but don't suck," I said, yanking the rest of the seemingly endless layers of skirt up off the spike.
Erin didn't say anything, just dropped down the wall, looking more like a dropped laundry basket than a person, lost in as many layers of cloth as she was. I followed, thankful the nobs were picky enough about the smell to have their alleys cleaned out regularly, no unpleasant goop to slip in on landing. We glanced down the alley, currently clear of City Guard. "Let's go," Erin said, doing something fiddly at the top of her skirt. Which then went whumpfthunk, very quietly and fell around her ankles. Which sounds a lot naughtier than it was, since she was wearing some kind of strange lacy pants that were less revealing than normal breaking-into-places gear.
She grabbed the skirt and balled it up over her shoulder, like a sack full of loot. And h'ours d'ourves. I took the opportunity to undo some of the least comfortable and most pointless fasteners on my outfit, then we both darted around the corner, since the Guard'd started clumping about and blowing whistles. That bought us probably half a minute, I guessed. Alley, alley, wall, wall, more alley, more wall, guards in the distance. The wall across from us was mostly overgrown, and what little I could make out of the mansion within was dark. "This way," I said, shucking my stupid coat (also full of shiny things no longer required by their previous owners) and chucked it over the disrepaired wall.
Well, over might be a bit of an overstatement. The coat fluttered like a wounded duck weighed down by the burdens of its life (Footnote 1) and draped itself neatly across the top of the wall. Erin's throw, sadly, was much better, the skirt being more aerodynamic (and having a starting advantage of about six inches) as it coasted over and then down inside the wall. This is all in retrospect, of course, we didn't wait to see what they did, we just clambered up the wall. It was easy, between the disrepair and various overgrowth, hardly like climbing at all, really. I paused long enough to grab the coat and look back at Lady Smirnell's mansion, which was lit up even more than it had been and crowded with purposeful shadows wandering around. (Footnote 2) Then I was over and slid down the vines in to land beside Erin.
"Keep moving?" she asked, poking through the folds of the skirt to make sure nothing'd fallen out.
"Yeah," I said, "But first we should change, this seems pretty secluded... woah," I said.
The inside of the wall and all the land around it were overgrown. Not in any kind of interesting, magical experiment or exotic plants from all over way, just with weeds. Tall weeds, that gave us plenty of cover, besides it being dark. But that's not why I'd said woah. The mansion itself was completely different than all the others around. Not just because it was dark. If the garden was anything to go by, it hadn't been repaired in a while, but the dark covered any disrepair. It had character. Not just the "Look at me! I'm rich! Justify my existence!" character of the others. They called out for attention, this one lurked. It'd been built when styles for architecture tended more for the imposing and scare the crap out of people to show how powerful you are style than the show off money as much as possible style. Peaked roofs, gargoyles, yes, everything. I half-expected a flash of lightning and an ominous roll of thunder, even though it was a clear night.
"Now that's a mansion," Erin said, "Not a nice one, or one I'd want to live in, but definitely a mansion," Erin said.
"Yup," I agreed.
We both probably woulda turned to poke each other back into paying attention at the same time, but the Guard whistles over by the corner of the alley came first. We looked at each other as the Guards clumped and clanked down on the other side of the wall.
Footnote 1: Or, more exactly, burdens of other people's lives. See? Good deed.
Footnote 2: As opposed to before, where most of the bedrooms were at least tastefully dark, and most of the wanderers were aimless, looking for privacy, or just drunk.
