What are you hiding? [Open!]
Jun 24, 2015 4:30:02 GMT
Post by shyfe on Jun 24, 2015 4:30:02 GMT
The large ships birthed at the harbor rocked gently as small waves, whipped up from the cool night breeze lapped lazily at their hulls. From above, the sounds of ropes and rigging clanging together from the motion, as well as the creaking of wood provided the perfect noise cover for Haeton who was doing his best to sneak through the docks without being seen. His usually bright and flashy attire had been left at home, replaced with a simple black, sleeveless tunic and trousers. Coupled with Haeton's dark skin, the dark elf all but melted into the shadows of the ship yard as he cautiously moved from one cargo crate to the next. The silver patch of hair that graced the right side of his head was hidden beneath a loosely worn black hood.
Crouched down behind a neatly coiled pile of ropes, Haeton considered the fact that perhaps it would have been better to wear his usual clothes. He would have probably looked considerably less suspicious. Then again, no matter what he wore, he always looked suspicious. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. That was what made this job so much fun.
Reaching into his small bag that was tied to his hip, he pulled out a small bronze spyglass and raised it to his silver eye. Across the pier Haeton's vision quickly focused onto his target – A large warehouse which at the moment, looked perfectly abandoned save for the faint glimmering glow of a candle burning in a window. A sign he knew meant that whatever shipment was expected, was now ready and waiting to be collected. Haeton was being paid to find out, what exactly that shipment was. Considering the late night, dark warehouse, empty dock, candle flame shenanigans, Haeton felt it was safe to assume, whatever was going on in there, wouldn't be approved of by the shipping officials. Or perhaps even the local militia.
The elf didn't usually care about smuggling. It wasn't like he lived his life on any kind of morally high ground, so to judge others, or treat them like crooks would be rather hypocritical of him. However, thanks to Koben and it's stupid attack on the city, Haeton had been cooped up in his room for weeks and he was desperate to get out of the house.
Now it was every man for himself. His presence was barely tolerated on a good day. Now the city was out for blood. And with Haeton's dark skin and self proclaimed fantastic good looks, the elf could pass as a poster boy for the Empire. Haeton knew that if he was seen, it would be a shoot first, ask questions later type of situation. Oddly enough, that was more exciting to Haeton then it had right to be. He enjoyed the danger and the risk.
Peering around the pile of ropes, Haeton shoved his spyglass back into it's bag and shifted onto his bare feet. He had decided to hide his boots in a near by alley. Bare feet made less noise then clomping around foot wear. But it left his toes susceptible to splinters from the rough wood of the docks. Before he could help himself, a foul curse hissed out of his mouth as a nasty sliver embedded its self into his heel. Hopping awkwardly, he dove into the nearest shadow and prayed that he had managed to be quiet enough that no one noticed.
It felt good to be back.
Crouched down behind a neatly coiled pile of ropes, Haeton considered the fact that perhaps it would have been better to wear his usual clothes. He would have probably looked considerably less suspicious. Then again, no matter what he wore, he always looked suspicious. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. That was what made this job so much fun.
Reaching into his small bag that was tied to his hip, he pulled out a small bronze spyglass and raised it to his silver eye. Across the pier Haeton's vision quickly focused onto his target – A large warehouse which at the moment, looked perfectly abandoned save for the faint glimmering glow of a candle burning in a window. A sign he knew meant that whatever shipment was expected, was now ready and waiting to be collected. Haeton was being paid to find out, what exactly that shipment was. Considering the late night, dark warehouse, empty dock, candle flame shenanigans, Haeton felt it was safe to assume, whatever was going on in there, wouldn't be approved of by the shipping officials. Or perhaps even the local militia.
The elf didn't usually care about smuggling. It wasn't like he lived his life on any kind of morally high ground, so to judge others, or treat them like crooks would be rather hypocritical of him. However, thanks to Koben and it's stupid attack on the city, Haeton had been cooped up in his room for weeks and he was desperate to get out of the house.
Now it was every man for himself. His presence was barely tolerated on a good day. Now the city was out for blood. And with Haeton's dark skin and self proclaimed fantastic good looks, the elf could pass as a poster boy for the Empire. Haeton knew that if he was seen, it would be a shoot first, ask questions later type of situation. Oddly enough, that was more exciting to Haeton then it had right to be. He enjoyed the danger and the risk.
Peering around the pile of ropes, Haeton shoved his spyglass back into it's bag and shifted onto his bare feet. He had decided to hide his boots in a near by alley. Bare feet made less noise then clomping around foot wear. But it left his toes susceptible to splinters from the rough wood of the docks. Before he could help himself, a foul curse hissed out of his mouth as a nasty sliver embedded its self into his heel. Hopping awkwardly, he dove into the nearest shadow and prayed that he had managed to be quiet enough that no one noticed.
It felt good to be back.