she watched as she hid the bird in the pillow and disappeared. she would have pursued to see why she was heading to the water but the sound of drums got her attention. she tried to figure out why they where playing. she only heard them once and that was when a old friend was captured and killed. She had came alone and was thinking of who else would have that death planed, the girl would be fine on her own. She turned and jumped down to a roof and started running towards the new sound.

she was quick to jump and run. She reached the center of town as the drums stopped. four men was knelt in the street with there hands tied behind there backs. She knew the men as friends. they where strong and good fighters but their intellect was questionable. they where the ones that informed her of the party. a man read there offences and names but she was not listening. She stepped back to the end of the roof and than set off in a run full speed and jumped to the ground. she landed with a role her sword drown as she stood up. all attention at her. most the men where out searching for her so there weren't many to watch the execution.

She quickly locked swords with the executer. a fight started as the others watched. the metal clanged against metal. she finely nocked him in the head with the but of her blade and turned to face who ever was next. for any one watching she looked out numbered and as if she lost but she did not fill that way. She twirled her blade before she held it at the side ready to attack.

We don't always get what we want. Any child with marginally acceptable guardians will tell you that. Even if I understand this fact of life, however, it rarely stops me from being disappointed when I'm denied something I want. On the day I met that kestrel thief, for example, I was eventually forced to remind myself that I couldn't always win, even though my expression still soured in the end.

I stood there in that decrepit grave of a bed chamber for quite some time, watching the two women from earlier in the day as they went about their confrontation with the pirates. Yet contrary to my every expectation, I noticed a surprising lack of tension coming from them: particularly the thief. She ignored the arsonist entirely, reducing their relationship to a bankrupt status. Sadly, she also seemed to escape the city with little trouble, like there was no challenge or conflict in it for her. Her hijacking a carriage near the end was all well and good, but that was about all she gave me to work with.

There was no major showdown to this theft that Shiloh orchestrated; no last minute traps from the owner to add romanticism to a piece.  Rather, the sides of the conflict were woefully unbalanced until the expectantly lackluster end. Perhaps someone else could find inspiration in something like that, but not I. Instead, I lost interest in Shiloh as soon as she reached the ocean, deciding it best to leave her to her own devices. She clearly didn't require my help, after all, not against such a seemingly ordinary opponent.

Oddly enough, it was Vinsue who garnered my attention thereafter. I didn't care for her arrogance, but her bombastic style did make for interesting material. The execution that she interfered with after Shiloh's escape, for example, became the inspiration for a landscape I completed a few days after we met. According to that portrait, Vinsue fought long enough against the executioner's lackeys to secure an escape for her friends. Although, the piece made no mention of the actual events composing said fight; especially since that wasn't the point it was trying to make. No one who bought that portrait cared about the smoke arrow I fired into the crowd that day, nor about the smokescreen said arrow helped create. They only cared about the idea of a nameless hero fighting against the "pirate scum" of Vilpamolan.

Regardless, I did end up helping Vinsue once I noticed the trouble she was in. Just as I described, I loosed that arrow from a distant rooftop after the dragon had already engaged her foes. The arrow started up a cloud of smoke in the area of the executioner's platform: something that Vinsue could use to her advantage if she was smart. I didn't take any further action beyond that, however, instead choosing to remain hidden. My role that day was destined to be limited, as in all things that didn't concern me. That was the norm for a forgotten outsider, no?