Pilfering The Past

[FennWenn]

For the briefest of moments, Fenn breathed easy. He stood behind two strong ladies. Better yet, both of them seemed to have it handled. Probably? Probably.

Maybe.

The orange-haired fae flustered and took a step back in the face of the insults, her fires guttering. But just as quickly, Orange gathered back her confidence with a glance back at her seven-or-so comrades, the eager shine of their eyes egging her on. They wanted a retaliation. And, they had numbers on their side. “We,” she stated, glowing amber eyes flicking over to the drunky not-Drakari lady, “don’t bow down to threats, lizard. And we wouldn’t betray each other in the crass manner you suggest; we need our numbers.”

From behind her, a fae with green-and-pink speckled wings piped up from his tree-branch perch. “I mean, the ruins are pretty dangerous…”

“And filled with gems and artifacts,” Orange continued smugly, chest swelling with self-importance. “We have an expedition to complete. The ruins of our great city carry more than historical importance, don’t you know? Some contain riches… and with them, terrifying traps, dangers, and creatures. It is our mission to conquer these places, to make them safe for the constructionists. Now tell me, what things of importance do you do with yourselves?”

Fenn huffed out a frosty breath and leaned out from behind Yvvone. Snowflakes and a cold fog spun out from the motion. His attentive eyes couldn't help but notice Orange’s hand dip down to touch a pouch at her belt, as if to reassure herself it was still there; within him his pickpocketing instincts tingled. People gave away so much while saying so little, and they didn’t even realize it! What in that pouch could be so important to her little expedition? It made his twitchy, thiefy fingers curl hopefully. Whatever it was, he wanted it for his own; as he usually felt about fascinating things that had yet to be his. At the least, now he got what was up with the strappy-leather-armor-and-many-pouches-and-pockets look all these fae were sporting. He was also an adventurer, but he didn't need all that, however! After all he had his trusty sifan satchel to hold anything he needed. In fact-

“Well?” Orange asked, snapping him back to reality. “I was asking you, snow-imp. Have you been struck mute by awe? Or is that another one of your natural deficiencies?”

Hoo boy. Fenn needed a friggen drink.

The little puck shot her a withering stare and stepped out a little from behind Yvvie, failing to form a proper response besides another kneejerk finger-flash.

The hostile Dheathanian lifted her head high. She seemed to take his continued silence for concession, regardless of his actions. “And who are you all to judge us, anyway? One of you is an obvious and unrepentant hussie,” she began (though, Fenn noticed she edged defensively farther away from the powerful-looking drunky lady as she said this), “one is a natural disaster waiting to happen, and the other…” Orange glanced at Yvvone. Balancing along the top of a thick tree-root, she glanced back at her friends again and took a couple daring steps forward toward the dwarf. She grinned. Wordlessly, the fire licking her palms crept all the way up to her shoulders, the wash of heat blowing her bangs back from her forehead. The mist enveloping them all hissed.

The other fae practically hissed with delight themselves at the spectacle.

“...well. I’ll say it once. It wasn’t wise for one who balks so openly at magic to visit a city brimming with naturally gifted sorcerers, was it?”