Chapter One, Part One: Thief!

"Hah!" Three girls landed on a flat roof, two of the three landing heavily, while the third gently tapped down on the ground gracefully, before giving a grand bow to the other two. She had sandy brown hair, with a very short pixie-esque cut. Her skin was only slightly lighter than her hair, the color of a well-done pastry, and covered in dark brown freckles, as if someone had flicked a paintbrush onto her face, leaving smaller spots on the rest of her body. She was lucky her complexion contained freckles naturally, for she, like the other two girls, was constantly dirty, a good portion of her freckles were simply mud. She was tall, and muscular, her arms and legs toned under her baggy pants and flowing shirt, complementing her long, gangly limbs in an odd way. Despite the awkwardness of her body proportions, she moved with a dancer's grace, using her calloused feet to grip small ledges, helping to keep her balance. She grinned mischievously at her two friends, prompting the shorter of the two to cover a giggle. "A wondrous performance m'lady Porthos," she would give a small curtsy in response. Looking up, the girl seemed much stranger than her companion, the long limbs paling in comparison. She was overall lacking in color, her skin similar to what one might imagine Snow White's to be, but in terms of hair, they differed greatly, instead of the inky black, hers was shoulder-length and silvery. She seemed a bit too pointy for a normal person, likely accentuated by her skinniness, though her nails did grow in points, so perhaps some of it was her original form. A light green tinge seemed to appear on the tips of her ears from time to time, but any who saw would realize later that there was no way a human girl's ears could be green. Truly, the only normal thing about her was her eyes, simply a sweet brown like milky coffee. Pulling an errant strand of hair from her face, the wind buffeted her, ruffling her dress, revealing the shorts she wore beneath. In actuality, the dress was simply a man's large undershirt tied with a string, but she wished to wear a dress, so a dress it shall be. Sitting down on the roof and stretching, arching her back like a cat, she looked to the final girl, who still was rolling her eyes at the buffoonery she had witnessed a moment ago. "Athos, you gonna come do some plans or what?" Sighing heavily the third girl took a seat on the roof, shaking her head. Despite seeming exasperated with the other girls, one close look at her face would tell you otherwise, her eyes crinkled at the corners and her mouth struggling to maintain a frown. She was certainly the most mature of the three, but even the most mature 13 year old in the world is still a child. She held herself confidently, a source of pride for the other two, and always had a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Her skin was dark, like walnut wood sanded smooth by the ocean, and her eyes matched the watery theme, a sea green that shifted in the light. As the wind blew, her stocky frame was easily visible through her own set of baggy clothes. Stands of her hair were also blown loose by the wind, curling dark and fierce once free from their ponytail prison. "A'ight, le's go" pointing to the sandy haired girl, "Porthos, yer with me, Aramis, you've got the locks, yea?"

"Oh! I get ta be a protecter today? Why, is the place we're going so well locked up yer gonna need Aramis?"

"Yea. We're headin' to the bakery again."

Laughing, Porthos skipped over to a small pile of supplies, "You've really got a death wish, eh?" "And you don't?" retorted Athos, raising an eyebrow. "Ouch!" pretending to have been shot in the heart, Porthos put a hand to her forehead in a false faint, "Y-You've broken my poor fragile heart, I'm not sure I can make it..." Marching over and grabbing an old newspaper, Athos began whacking Porthos, who started laughing, her hands in front of her face as protection, "Stop it, stop it, I yield!" With a sniff Athos returned the newspaper to the pile, grabbing a sharpened stick from the supplies Porthos had gotten. Grabbing the other stick, Porthos stood in a fencing position, jabbing the air in a mock battle. "Le's go!" shouted Athos, already at the edge of the roof, Aramis on the next one over. "Oh! Whoops!" tucking the stick in her string belt, Porthos ran towards the edge of the roof, leaping across the chasm in a jéte. "Showoff" muttered Athos before backing up and taking a running jump across the gap, landing much less gracefully, with a thump. Together the girls raced across the city skyline, in the early dawn seeming almost ethereal to any who caught a glimpse of their voyage. Reaching their destination, the girls swung into action; Athos and Aramis jumping down into a small alley, several metal pipes acting as steps for the girls. The alley-way was only open on one side, otherwise being surrounded by solid brick walls, though even the open side was partially blocked off by a large pile of trash. In one of the walls stood a heavy-set, metal door, with a large padlock on its handle, keeping it closed. There were several other locks also visible, but each had clearly been destroyed. Kneeling on the ground next to the door, Aramis picked up the padlock, examining it, before giving a small giggle. "They really don't want us gettin' in 'ere. This is a real strong un." From her sentry position by the entrance, Athos looked back, raising an eyebrow, "Can ye crack it?" With a snicker Aramis replied, "O' course I can," as she began pulling a few oddly shaped metal sticks from her sleeve. Satisfied, Athos nodded, turning back to her position. "Tha's why yer the best pick in town, eh?" Aramis began fiddling with the lock, her small sticks aiding her, until, click, the lock popped open.

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