literature

Nighttime Visitor

Deviation Actions

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Literature Text

The city was silent as the moon shined down from her celestial home. She bathed the roofs in a gentle wash that seemed to provide more shadows than she illuminated. Her brothers and sisters twinkled in the cloudless sky – an inspiration to both poets and astrologers. A gentle hush had fallen over the entire town as the inhabitants crawled into their beds and easing their way to the land of dreams. However, a single figure dressed in black danced across the top of the buildings with a grace that was more feline than human. She took a large leap from the edge of one building and barely managed to catch the edge of the neighboring home.

With a silent heave, she hoisted herself over the edge and crouched down on the roof. She looked around, narrowing her eyes. Here and there, small windows of light flickered, but there was no movement. She heard a shuffle to her left. There was a flash of light and a dagger appeared in her right hand, cocked back and ready to throw. With a hoot, the owl launched from his perch and soared away. The woman tucked the dagger back into her sleeve with a shake of her head.

She got up and stalked to the far edge. Looking down at the ground below, there was a feeble flickering from the window directly beneath her. She took a moment to adjust her mask so it fit tightly over her nose, concealing her face and filtering the air she would breathe. Her dark hair was braided and tucked into her shirt to keep it out of the way. Positioning herself just to the side of the window, she gripped the edge and climbed down next to the window – her fingers and toes finding small cracks between the massive stones.

Leaning so that she could see through the glass, she saw the room beyond was lit by a single candle resting on a table near the bed. Someone was sleeping, tucked under the covers and turned so that their back was facing the window. There was a writing table directly on the other side of the glass, a dresser with mounted mirror on the far wall, and at least two doors leading from the room.

Holding on with one hand, the shadow reached into the waist band of her leggings. She pulled out a small metal spike about five inches long. There was a single eye on the back end with two thin ropes attached to it. One rope was a loop, the other one curled around the woman’s waist several times. She held the spike up to her lips and muttered under her breath.

“Hold fast.”

The spike emitted a blue glow at the tip. She placed the spike over the stones in the middle of the window. No sooner had she placed it there than it sunk into the stone until only the eye remained. She positioned the loop around her bottom and sat back, bracing her feet on the stones on either side of the glass. The spike easily held her weight.

She reached into her belt and removed a pair of soft doeskin gloves. The fingers and cuffs had runes etched into them with what appeared to be black ink. She slipped them on and whispered again. Her voice was soft and smooth.

“Liquid glass.”

She put her hands against the glass of the window and it rippled like a stone dropped into a still lake. She slid her gloved hands through the window and circled them slowly, spreading them further apart. As she moved them, empty air filled the space between the gloves. When she removed her hands, the window had a hole three feet across in the center. Gripping the stones above, she swung her legs through the opening and let go, launching herself into the room. The woman collapsed to all fours as she hit the carpet inside the room, trying to absorb the shock of her fall.

Moving quickly, she uncoiled a few loops of rope from around her waist, and then walked over to the bed. The man there was still sleeping – oblivious to her presence. She slid open the drawer of the small nightstand and removed an envelope. Sitting next to the envelope in the drawer was a gold ring with a large lion crest etched into the surface of it. The thief reached into the drawer and tucked it into a pouch hanging from her belt.

No sooner had she closed the drawer than the door opened. A man at arms had opened the door slowly and walked into the room. He was talking before the door was completely open. His voice was hushed, as if he did not want to wake his employer.

“I’m sorry m’lord, I just heard…” he cut off when he saw the thief. He drew his sword and shouted for the guards.

The woman’s eyes became slits as she reached into another pouch on her belt. She threw a capsule against the ground and it shattered. Immediately a thick dark green smoke filled the room. The guard and the lord both began to cough violently as the woman ran towards the window. She jumped through the window, coiling the loose rope around her left hand twice. As she passed through the glass, she whipped the rope free of the hole and then shouted at it.

“Solidify!”

The window became full again as if never disturbed. The rope in her hand tightened when she was still about fifteen feet from the ground. It stretched and slowed her descent as she fell.

“Fly free!” she commanded when her fall had almost stopped.

In response to her command, the spike came flying out of the wall. She watched it and then caught it when was within reach. She coiled it back around her waist as she took off through the maze of city streets. By the time the window was unlatched and flew open, she was far from sight. A chorus of shouts was taken up, but they quickly died out when the thief was not immediately caught and most people refused to rouse themselves out of bed.

The woman took a much longer route than she needed to, just in case anyone had followed her. Eventually she was standing in front of a nondescript wooden door. She knocked in a quick combination that she had been taught earlier that afternoon. When the door opened a crack, she shoved it the rest of the way open, stunning the guard on the other side. He reached for his weapon as she stormed past him, but he relaxed at a wave from the man sitting behind a desk.

The thief’s eyes were narrowed and burned with a fiery rage as she stood before the desk. She threw her prize on the table so hard that the ring rolled off the far edge. The man’s arm shot out and he caught it before it dented against the floor.

“There’s your prize,” she hissed at him. “Now, give me my back my son.”
This has nothing to do with my serial story, but something I just needed to write... It was a sketch that was stuck in my head all day and begging to be written. I don't know if I will do anymore with this character, but she has potential.
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Izzabell's avatar
you should write more of this. if you already did, sorry i haven't gotten to it yet.