WHO: sam drake, beth greene, laura kint, & YOU WHAT: open post to try and get back into the groove. starters in comments, hmu for something custom. WHEN: post-modplot, generally in august WHERE: the gallows, kirkwall NOTES: tbd
Doki is smarter than pickpocket children. These children, they are very small and very stupid and very easily caught by everyone. Doki does not usually waste her time pulling things out of people's pockets. First of all, there is so little to be found in pockets it is hardly worth the time that it takes. Better to be spending time on big things.
But sometimes it is fun to do little things. That is what Doki has been doing tonight. She is in disguise, mud smeared and face wrapped to hide her tattoos, hands wrapped to hide the shard embedded in the one. And she has been doing well until right now, having fun until right now, when this man grabs her wrist and in the dark of Darktown, she looks up into his face with big round eyes--
"Jesus--!" but his hand only tightens around the kid's wrist. No, not a kid--that's a woman, if a small one. Dirty-faced, willing to kick him in the goddamn shins, staring up at him with big blue eyes that might've worked a little better than the edge of her boot.
It's nothing compared to some of the damage he's taken lately, though - the gunshot that grazed his bicep's still within recent memory - and he stands firm, looking down at her in the dim light of one of the dankest neighborhoods he's ever wandered through. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"
Doki shows him her teeth. They are also dirty, purposefully smeared with mud and chewed-up tobacco. Underneath that paste they are not very good all on their own, but this is Darktown, and so they have to look very bad. The wrappings she'd put over her muddy face to disguise herself have slipped down. Now she looks like a very badly-made Nevarran dead lady.
"I am leaving," and on leaving she twists her wrist and pulls toward the spot in his grip where his thumb and forefinger come together. This is the weakest part of someone trying to hold onto you. She is not weak. Who is this man, with the stupid trousers? She will break free.
He shifts his grip as she tries to break it, pulling up just a little - but his thoughts aren't entirely with her. This is a con he used to run with Nathan, a two-man game that kept them fed for more than one night. First kid shows up, does a terrible job of picking your pocket. While you're giving him what-for and looking around for the authorities, the other kid - Sam, always Sam - gets the whole damn wallet. First kid gets free, and all that's left is counting the cash.
It's gotta be even easier here than it was in Tegucigalpa, down in Darktown. Find the only mark who might have some cash to pocket, and there's no authorities for him to run to. Another time, another place, he would've spent a lot of time down here.
He lifts the woman's wrist, taking away some of her leverage, up just enough that it's awkward, not quite enough to hurt. It's not the kind of shit he normally does, toying with some poor sap who thought he was a rube, but her voice sounds familiar. It's gonna bug him. "What's your name?"
This time, Doki actually hisses at him. She resents the grip on her wrist, how easy it was for him--stupid smart him!--to anticipate the twisting of her arm. He should be stupider. She should be smarter. This is the better way. Now she is trapped and he is asking questions. She will not be trapped.
"My name is not yours to know. Now you will be letting me go. If you do not, you will next find a knife in your bowels."
She does have another hand, after all. Once more she pulls, trying to yank herself free.
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around Kirkwall
But sometimes it is fun to do little things. That is what Doki has been doing tonight. She is in disguise, mud smeared and face wrapped to hide her tattoos, hands wrapped to hide the shard embedded in the one. And she has been doing well until right now, having fun until right now, when this man grabs her wrist and in the dark of Darktown, she looks up into his face with big round eyes--
And kicks him in the shin.
no subject
It's nothing compared to some of the damage he's taken lately, though - the gunshot that grazed his bicep's still within recent memory - and he stands firm, looking down at her in the dim light of one of the dankest neighborhoods he's ever wandered through. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"
no subject
"I am leaving," and on leaving she twists her wrist and pulls toward the spot in his grip where his thumb and forefinger come together. This is the weakest part of someone trying to hold onto you. She is not weak. Who is this man, with the stupid trousers? She will break free.
no subject
It's gotta be even easier here than it was in Tegucigalpa, down in Darktown. Find the only mark who might have some cash to pocket, and there's no authorities for him to run to. Another time, another place, he would've spent a lot of time down here.
He lifts the woman's wrist, taking away some of her leverage, up just enough that it's awkward, not quite enough to hurt. It's not the kind of shit he normally does, toying with some poor sap who thought he was a rube, but her voice sounds familiar. It's gonna bug him. "What's your name?"
no subject
"My name is not yours to know. Now you will be letting me go. If you do not, you will next find a knife in your bowels."
She does have another hand, after all. Once more she pulls, trying to yank herself free.