Sweet Cinnamoth
EXP: 37,766, Level: 8
Level completed: 31%,
EXP required for next Level: 6,234
One by one, a cabinet’s worth of shiny, shiny porcelain dishes — smooth to the touch and edged with gold leaf — disappeared into an endlessly greedy bag. The door was left ajar as a pint-sided pocketpicker glanced around the grand room he was in. Nodding back at his work, Fenn began his way back, scampering over white tiles and ducking under polished preparation tables, toward the kitchen’s door.
This room was likely picked clean enough for him to want to move on from it. Probably. Kitchens were always Fenn’s favorite room to raid in any given house. There was quite a great carnage behind and before the little puck; an icebox left ajar open (who needed that when they had snowy magics?), a platter of warming brownies mysteriously vanished from its spot on the counter (delicious!), a spatter of egg on the wall (his bad), empty jars dripping and rolling about (one smashed, whoops) frost and flour tracked over the nice clean countertops (and floors)... Yes, Fenn decided as he licked a delicious smear of honey and brownie crumbs from the corner of his mouth, he had done good work and now the rest of the decorated house beckoned him. But, the fae thought as he glanced up, had he done enough work? What if something had been forgotten? What if he had missed a tin of cookies somewhere?
Such as, that glittery box all the way on the tippy-tip top of that cabinet over there.
Hesitantly, the fae considered the shiny snippet of temptation. There were other rooms to move onto in the house, but… Nono, he decided as he slid back into the room; he was being extra-careful to be thorough with this bout of stealing! It wouldn’t do to miss such a thing.
As easily as a squirrel scales a tree, Fenn hoisted himself onto the dark marble counter (not for the first time today) and reached up to grab a cabinet’s handle — but not to open it. With an air of smugness, the boy jumped and grabbed for the top of the counter. His hand met with the dusty top. Triumphantly, he pulled himself up. There, he hung with his feet dangling in the air, by the meager strength of his crossed arms alone.
Crash whunk THUMP-
Fenn’s gaze jolted up from shiny tin right in front of his nose, hearing a hearty scuffle echo through the tall corridors. His thoughts jerked back to the fainted lady — had she gotten up, or had something happened to her? Oh no. He hoped she was okay. They weren’t here to murder anyone or anything… wait. What if that was the mean merchant? Had Jake lost his attention? What if a fight had broken out? What if-
In his moment of fluttery distraction and rambled thinking, Fenn reached for the cookie tin with two hands, forgetting that one needed both arms to hold themselves up in such a precarious position on to the top of a cabinet.
WHUMP!
It was then that he discovered the tin was not full of cookies.
Last edited by FennWenn; 07-01-2018 at 10:17 AM.
