MaryGold
terrified to be known, desperate to be understood
Original poster
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- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Adaptable
- Genres
- romance. angst. drama. modern. fantasy. supernatural. adventure. crime. period pieces.
Isobel Laurent
The Wellingtons were not by any means the wealthiest family Isobel swiped from in her long career of "borrowing, but they would certainly be the easiest. The family lacked an abundance of servants to keep their grounds and sleep in the house. The absence of an average count of help made security all the weaker. They were ripe for the picking. The opportunity practically presented itself for her Isobel, and who was she to refuse? Given the state of the city she lived in, money seemed to come and go all too frequently when one wasn't born with a title attached to their name.
Isobel planned as she always did. She had walked by the residence more than once, but never regularly and always in disguise. Unfortunately, her white hair not only caused her a further social disadvantage than others but made her noticeable as well. The disguises kept her a nobody, a regular British woman who happened to be passing by and not at all surveying her next target. And when the right night presented itself, when the family was deep into sleep, and the servants as well, she made her move.
Her white hair was tied neatly into a bun, and she donned in clothing suitable for the occasion. Which meant pants and a dark plain cloak. The rare chance someone woke up, and found her, they wouldn't be able to see her face before she escaped.
Scaling the building was the most difficult part of her pursuit. However, that was why she had surveyed the building before, to find the best way in and back out. There was a balcony, difficult to say to whose room. She had never seen the inside layout of the house. She only ever did that for larger jobs, and commissions, this was for her own personal profit.
Being a ballerina led her to be graceful and stronger for other tasks, and being a thief made trained her to be quiet and suppress the grunts that wanted to leave her mouth through gritted teeth as she climbed. But it was all worth it when she finally pulled herself over the balcony railing and found that the doors were unlocked and the room lights were out. Fortunate. She would pick a lock if she had to, lucky she did not.
Isobel was quiet as a mouse, not scurrying but floating about the room. With nimble fingers, she lit a match to get a better view. The light of the moon could only help so much. Shadows stretched about, but with minimal lighting, it was easy to see it was a woman's room. One of their children's perhaps. She hoped it was one of the more fashionable's sisters' room.
There was really no time to dawdle about, time was always of the essence in these sorts of jobs. She looked about until she found the vanity dresser. Perfect. As respected there were jewels laid in a jewelry box. Inside, there may not have been as many as the more wealthy daughters of Lords had. But enough that Isobel could pick and choose.
@PavellumPendulum