Locke
Fortune. It glowed in his mind brighter than gold, and shimmered more lustfully than any jewel. Riches abound, fortune awaits, in the Night Markets. Or so the rumors said. They had snagged ahold of Locke, hooked him in his very lungs like fish caught by the gills on a hook being reeled in.The poor youth was lead far from his own lands to promises of a carnival of the senses, capitalism, and avarice. That was how the young thief found himself on the well traveled road south towards his awaiting adventure.
Perhaps he should have guessed that all was going too smoothly. Afterall the first part of his venture had included a horse falling from the sky for god’s sake,and this peaceful morning afield, winding his was through the prairie was blissful, relaxing, utterly enjoyable and most importantly, far too quiet. Yet the calm of the day had drugged him, washing him in a sense of normality that should have set his sense on high had he listened to his tutors more. Usually he kept himself well in check, but the more social he’d become, the heavier he felt the drag of memories, voices, and emotions of the past. Those he was happy to escape by following the pied piper of the peaceful prairie.
That is until he ran into the ambush. Jolting back with a snort and awake from his unconcerned travel the young thief stepped back several paces, feathers lifting in surprise. It was just a young thing though (of course it could have been a rabbit and the young foolish son would have likely still had the same reaction). Armed and ready, but younger than even he. So immediately Locke’s head tilts back and he settles to really see past the flash of horn and commanding tone, to the short height, yawning pup, and singularity.
Never underestimating an opponent for their appearance was a better taught (and experienced) lesson than the one he had just failed, so the young thief does not raise a brow, or laugh to the small girl...yet. Instead he settled himself back, soothing his shock to curiosity, not trying to false face her. She obviously was doing all that particularly deceitful work for him, or trying to, as she demands the password.
Part of him thought her serious, a true sentry keeping watch (for in his time spent learning of this world at the sun’s home he had heard many things about the Night Court). Yet most of him, rooted in that suave and assurity that only a youth thinking themselves grown can possess, saw a lone young mare, with humor in her voice, as nothing but an invitation to play. And Locke ever so loved playing games. So the boy let’s a frown fall on his face, and head drop ashamed. “Password? Hmm, that might be a problem.” Insincerity of his shown emotion wrapped his words in a layer of dust, aging them past their due and keeping the theme she had begun of revealing the truth through all but words. “I was told not to give it to anyone, least it be whispered to the wrong ears.” Locke stepped towards the slip of a filly. “How do I know you aren’t just trying to steal it?” The young thief was the first to break and let one corner of his mouth lift to reveal his internal thoughts on this charade. Whether she was or was not a sentry was irrelevant, the game had begun, and ever since it had he’d left thoughts of his past which had weighed him like an anchor all morning, far behind. For that, Locke liked her already.
OOC:: @
