To hold my tongue except when I try to pray...
Heat. Sand. Solis. Reinhart has traveled farther than he anticipated in his latest bout of restlessness. His eyes sweep upwards, tracing the line of banners of the Solis that hang listlessly in the still air. Arid. He thinks to himself. It is a fitting word for Solterra. Reinhart does not remember the last time he stood at the grand entrance that led to the city in the desert. Months. He thinks again, confirming the timeline in his head. The ashen man with a crown of horns atop his head has not been here since the incident with his father. Since he lied through his teeth about being a good son. He has been a good son, but it will only last so long. Winter in Solterra was an interesting experience, there was a notable absence of snow here. There was only a lingering chill in the air. It was cooler than the summer in Solterra. Reinhart pulls his gaze from the proud banners of Solis, he pushes his way into the markets of the Day Court.
He ogles the wares splayed out by respective vendors. Some take greater care in arranging their wares than others. This tells Reinhart that those wares are more valuable. Whether that is true, or simply that the vendor takes great pride in their wares, is unknown to the thief. He stops when an item catches his eye. It is a simple item, a band of woven silver that one might wear upon their nape. Reinhart assumes the identity of Ezra, it is an effortless transition for the oblivious magician. His molten eyes swirl in a fascinating pattern, his tongue dips itself in silver for good measure. Quick words. He thinks. That will get me what I want. His thoughts dissolve as he dons his most charismatic smile to the woman behind the table.
The woman looks up, he sees how infectious his smile is when she returns one. The woman murmurs a greeting to him in dulcet tones. Ezra's smile widens. He dips his head to the shopkeep. "Well met." The words flow from his tongue as effortlessly as water trickling down a hill. His voice is thick like honey, it rumbles with fondness. "Might I ask to try on that delicate silver throat band you have there? I would greatly appreciate if you were the one to fasten it with your elegant touch." He continues on, his words flowing quicker this time. Reinhart does not feel the magic that radiates from his body in plumes and bursts. "You must have an elegant touch to sell such delicate wares, and each one so unique and beautiful. My sister or mother would love this silver band, we've got similar tastes and sizes you see." The words flow faster from his pink and soot smattered lips.
The woman responds agreeably with the thief, and obliges his request. Her oohing and awing make his ears twitch appreciatively. "Do you have a mirror? It feels so snug. Wonderful. It's perfect." He rambles on, the words gushing like water escaping the crack in a dam. She turns away to grab a mirror, and he is gone. Reinhart disappears into a large group walking by as if he is a leaf swept away by a coursing river.
He ogles the wares splayed out by respective vendors. Some take greater care in arranging their wares than others. This tells Reinhart that those wares are more valuable. Whether that is true, or simply that the vendor takes great pride in their wares, is unknown to the thief. He stops when an item catches his eye. It is a simple item, a band of woven silver that one might wear upon their nape. Reinhart assumes the identity of Ezra, it is an effortless transition for the oblivious magician. His molten eyes swirl in a fascinating pattern, his tongue dips itself in silver for good measure. Quick words. He thinks. That will get me what I want. His thoughts dissolve as he dons his most charismatic smile to the woman behind the table.
The woman looks up, he sees how infectious his smile is when she returns one. The woman murmurs a greeting to him in dulcet tones. Ezra's smile widens. He dips his head to the shopkeep. "Well met." The words flow from his tongue as effortlessly as water trickling down a hill. His voice is thick like honey, it rumbles with fondness. "Might I ask to try on that delicate silver throat band you have there? I would greatly appreciate if you were the one to fasten it with your elegant touch." He continues on, his words flowing quicker this time. Reinhart does not feel the magic that radiates from his body in plumes and bursts. "You must have an elegant touch to sell such delicate wares, and each one so unique and beautiful. My sister or mother would love this silver band, we've got similar tastes and sizes you see." The words flow faster from his pink and soot smattered lips.
The woman responds agreeably with the thief, and obliges his request. Her oohing and awing make his ears twitch appreciatively. "Do you have a mirror? It feels so snug. Wonderful. It's perfect." He rambles on, the words gushing like water escaping the crack in a dam. She turns away to grab a mirror, and he is gone. Reinhart disappears into a large group walking by as if he is a leaf swept away by a coursing river.
Notes: AL;DJFL;EJ JASK, I thought it might be interesting if Jask caught him stealing something >__> | Words: 546 | Tags: @Jask
... try to breathe words out, But I’ve got nothing to say
