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Proletarian Shopping [Quest: Fleur]

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Proletarian Shopping [Quest: Fleur] Empty on Wed Dec 13, 2017 11:07 am

Cold licked at her face and crept under her clothes, spreading across her skin like the lacy tide on a frigid winter beach. With purple lips tinged with blue and gently chattering teeth she wrapped her thin coat around her tighter. The cold that had seemed mild at first now numbed her face and extremities. What residual heat he had absorbed in the lodge was gone, it had been his buffer, but unwittingly she had squandered it believing her thick winter jacket and boots equal to the task of preserving her body heat. With each breath more heat rose in puffs of white vapor, with each gust of the wind more heat dissipated into the whiteness, with each step the rocks and ice pulled more heat from her marrow. She had stopped composing wintry poetry of icicles and the spectre of the world under a pristine white blanket and instead tucked her chin to her chest and made for home. It was going to be a long day - no doubt about it.

Stealing was like breathing for Jerr. Unlike others, he didn't do this for the thrill of it but rather the sense of security he would eventually receive. As time passed on, the child felt more at ease and maneuvered comfortably while he committed the crimes, upping the profit severely. It caused a problem but it was well worth it - his family of other hood rats would survive till the next day thanks to his notorious efforts. They respected him, having donned the crown of the leader. He stood above all else. He was Jerr.

A wide variety of shops lined the nearby streets: antique and art stalls, jewelry and accessory shops, luxury boutiques, souvenir kiosks and stores selling leather goods, all showcasing an array of the finest otherworldly wares. Tourists flocked to them like fireflies to a lamp, enthusiasm accentuating their features. The silvery melody of the drawl of sightseers and the strong, distinct accents of the locals drifted through my ears as they ambled past. There were chimes of bells that tinkled incessantly as the people sauntered in and out of the stores, entranced by the Italian merchandise. They purchased bags of picturesque paintings, fragile but colorful figurines created from Murrain glass, and shirts with ‘Varenna’ printed in big, bold letters, among many others. The next shop was a mecca for the local petty thieves. The shelves were lined up in such a way that it was difficult for the owner to see them from the cash desk. So they would go in pairs, one would buy some fifty cent candy from the counter while the other would stuff a backpack full of more expensive goods from another isle that they could flog at school. By the time he noticed anything they were long gone. And since there was only one camera to worry about they just made sure it never got a good angle on their faces. Upon entering the final one, a whole new experience was presented to Jerr. The shop was more like a warehouse than anything he had ever seen before. There were row upon row of stainless steel shelving chocked with a vast array of tinned and boxed goods. They had everything you could want - so long as you wanted to purchase in bulk. But purchasing it wasn't his plan, right? The brat grabbed a bunch of things and ran out, having the screaming cashier chasing him but realizing to no avail would a youngster be caught through a giant crowd. If only the cashier continued chasing. Jerr eventually tired out and stopped running, though he couldn't see anything in front of him because of the number of goods he had stolen being way above his head, literally. Eventually, he bumped into the mage that stopped him the first time around - Fleur stared at the brat, ready to murder him for bumping into her. Her eyes were full of rage, but her calm demeanor made it just as scary. Having someone calmly eye you as they're about to calmly murder you was an experience of its own. But Jerr wasn't afraid. A smile across his face, he stood up to Fleur and asked if she was willing to steal for him and how he had enough to pay her considerably. The transforming dark mage agreed.

Fleur, with her confidence, attacked the man she worked for originally with such vigor and without a care in the world. Once he was on the ground, unable to give chase and only capable of muttering words of hatred and distaste, Fleur grabbed all the food she could muster and brought it to Jerr, who was waiting in the distance. He then handed her a wad of cash for her efforts, keeping his end of the bargain.

Word Count: 804

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