Drove himself into a town//the roads were paved with gold [semi-open]
WHO: Bluest bluestheart and OPEN to those who solemnly swear they are up to no good.
WHAT: Bluest doesn't do parties. "Too fancy. 'Sides, there are better things to do on nights like this. Maybe I'll pop in on th'next one."
WHERE: All through the streets of Rivelata. cc:
WHEN: The night of the ball!
Bluest hated tiny windows. She hated dogs, too. There was one yapping its mouth off below her as she shimmied through one of the aforementioned tiny windows of a rather large and decadent household. This house belonged to a woman who Bluest couldn't remember the name of, nor did she particularly care. Knew it wasn't an Offworlder's house and knew it didn't belong to anyone she liked, or didn't like and wanted to avoid.
The Dupond kid came to mind. Bluest suppressed an involuntary shudder and finally got all the way inside the goddamn window. From there, it was simply a matter of shutting the damn dog up(which she did by scratching him behind the ears--turned out the little bastard was friendly), and getting into the main wing of the mansion. About fifteen minutes later, pockets and bag considerably heavier, Bluest made her way back out the way she came, and waved to the yappy little rat dog before she slipped through the window.
Another house down, and Bluest found that she was in a particularly good mood. She'd grabbed a funny-looking gun from one of the inns (had no idea what the damn thing did, but it might be useful), a great deal of pure silverware, jewelery (Dupond's shop had been studiously avoided. Being shot once was enough), and a fair amount of cash that had been stashed away in various places. Good times. She figured she'd make one more round and then head on back home, or to some sort of hideout. Wasn't any need of getting greedy, after all.
WHAT: Bluest doesn't do parties. "Too fancy. 'Sides, there are better things to do on nights like this. Maybe I'll pop in on th'next one."
WHERE: All through the streets of Rivelata. cc:
WHEN: The night of the ball!
Bluest hated tiny windows. She hated dogs, too. There was one yapping its mouth off below her as she shimmied through one of the aforementioned tiny windows of a rather large and decadent household. This house belonged to a woman who Bluest couldn't remember the name of, nor did she particularly care. Knew it wasn't an Offworlder's house and knew it didn't belong to anyone she liked, or didn't like and wanted to avoid.
The Dupond kid came to mind. Bluest suppressed an involuntary shudder and finally got all the way inside the goddamn window. From there, it was simply a matter of shutting the damn dog up(which she did by scratching him behind the ears--turned out the little bastard was friendly), and getting into the main wing of the mansion. About fifteen minutes later, pockets and bag considerably heavier, Bluest made her way back out the way she came, and waved to the yappy little rat dog before she slipped through the window.
Another house down, and Bluest found that she was in a particularly good mood. She'd grabbed a funny-looking gun from one of the inns (had no idea what the damn thing did, but it might be useful), a great deal of pure silverware, jewelery (Dupond's shop had been studiously avoided. Being shot once was enough), and a fair amount of cash that had been stashed away in various places. Good times. She figured she'd make one more round and then head on back home, or to some sort of hideout. Wasn't any need of getting greedy, after all.