Locke
There must be some initiation that young Locke did not yet know about. This began to occur to him, not for the first time, as this shadow queen screwtinized and analyzed every missing mark on his youthful complexion. He had dabbled in this trade for several years now, albeit under many different circumstances (survival, ignorance, dares, fun) but in all areas he seemed to meet the same creatures. Black hearts so twisted and corrupt their eyes (at least at first meeting) only held an endless chasm of ever growing avarice and hunger, weighing him. Shrewd, calculating bank tellers who knew the worth of street grim, but rarely saw in any equines. The young thief often wondered if he’d turn into them whenever he passed some milestone of his trade. If when settling himself to make this life his ‘business’ he would find himself harboring the same disgust for non-sellable items.
He prayed to every god he came across that he’d be spared such a fate. It looked damn boring and uncomfortable.
So Locke continues to grin back at the mare and her initial threat of a swift end when she obviously found his life worth little and his pockets empty, as he was not yet ready to let go of the illusion that this work and banter were merely a fun game. (Though he was having quite a bit of fun with it.) The brave (or was he still being idiotic? Too much sun indeed) youth even gives a ghost of a laugh as he exhales. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her words. No, the pain part certainly could be felt in the knife she carried in her voice. It was that the young thief had seen several like her in his short time, and as he still walked the world (mostly) unharmed by them, she was not a threat, nothing new. A monster maybe, but an impossible beomiath? No.
“And you have me mistaken for street trash.” That small voice in him told him she had every right. After all up to this point what had he managed? A half hearted, foolish (to put it nicely) attempt at stealth and a grin in the face of a threat. Not exactly a stunning resume.
“Well we can either take a tour...or I go and learn them on my own.” Voice empties of care and floats higher on the whispers of a sigh. “Either way, I find a new home for this poor beauty.” From over his back where it barely rested against the wall, came a gleam of treasure. A leg cuff, gold (possibly just plated), but bearing three set garnets and several loops of gold chains around its bottom rim. Not the most stunning piece, but the youth was not a complete fool. A job application this might be, but it was also being made to a shadow queen on a shadow street. The two more valuable pieces of jewelry he harbored stayed safely untouched in his leg satchel (where he had pulled this item from and slipped it up to his back along the wall). Would she steal it from him? Likely, but then surely she could see the dead end that action would lead her.
He begins to pull the item back, eyes dropping away as if the conversation were coming to a close (but his ears stay trained on her). “I suppose I must ask forgiveness for mistaking you for a head merchant, capable of doing simple sums.” Those emerald eyes roll back up to seek out hers, as he cast the last few words like dice. Only afterwards did the thought come to him, that given his sunbaking, drinking, and desperation, gambling his life might not be the wisest of ideas. (Especially as the glance back up caused him to catch sight of her companion so clearly who was so clearly on close terms with death.) Possibly more foolish than talking to her in the first place.
OOC:: @Vendetta We should title this "Locke tries to be sassy too and ends up with a hoof in his mouth' XD
