A thief in the night [open]

[Dietrich]

Dietrich was quite enjoying this. He nimbly lowered himself from the tree above his sleeping prey. His legs wrapped around the branch, his long blood red hair tied firmly against his neck in a bun, his body encased in a skin tight black shirt and black jeans, movements light and airy...he of course had been doing this for thousands of years. From the most well guarded fortress to the humblest hut, he would find his way in and snatch the precious objects he coveted. He was a master thief, a king amongst bandits, and a very determined man.

Looking at the large diamond around the sidhe's neck, he relished the sparkling colors in the moonlight. He could feel the itch upon his fingertips and he gave a feral smile at his sleeping prey. The diamond was at least an inch long, with a smile he knew that the diamond would be his! Silently reaching for the diamond on the small weak chain wrapped around the sidhe's neck so innocently, he gently picked up the diamond and easily snapped it and the chain off of the sidhe. The sidhe merely frowned and shifted into a more comfortable position, never awakening. Almost giddy with such an easy 'job,' Dietrich quietly lifted himself back into the tree. His legs use to this, easily pulled himself up. His limber body easy bent and shifted till he was soundlessly back in the treetops right side up.

With one look at the sleeping sidhe, Dietrich shifted into his mantel's form. The beautiful moth, at least a hand length in size, actually had no pigment to his wings. Instead his wings acted like prisms and when in sun or moonlight sparkled the different colors of the rainbow. He knew his mantel's species, the sunset moth, originated from Madagascar. Easily picking up the diamond in his moth form, the diamond weighed hardly anything, and flew off into the darkness. The sidhe completely forgotten.

---

About an hour later Dietrich had finally found his horde cave, a cave when he entered sparkled with stolen gold and gems, and threw the diamond in the pile already forgotten. Sitting himself in the gold lacquered chair near the soft, plush bed located in the corner on a like gold lacquered bed frame. The sheets were purple silk and were nicely kept.

He stared at the pile of treasure frowning. The treasure pile was no where near what he once had. He could have carved a mountain from the hordes he had stashed long ago! Narrowing his eyes as a flash of anger hit him at the reason why those hordes of treasure were no longer. Damn that blasted sorceress! Knocking the pile of books off of a side table (same gold lacquered) and his cat like eyes flashed in fury.

Silently counting to ten in his head and changed out of his 'work clothes' into black cargo pants, a half undone deep purple dress shirt with gold embroidery on the cuffs and collar, expensive looking black boots, and a long black leather trench coat. Quickly letting down his chest length hair, Dietrich left his cave and walked into the forest, his abode well hidden from outside...problems.

Finally after what seemed like forever, he arrived at the entrance to the unseelie court and made his way to The Screaming Lass. Once there he walked to the bar and sat watching the room, glancing for any....objects he could acquire. The tattoo of his mantel visible upon his neck. Turning to the man at the bar, a playful innocent look upon his face. It looked like Dietrich found something humorous, but his gentle feature made it look as if he were too innocent for it to be insulting. Dietrich never really intended to look like this, but it was his natural pose he guessed. "A mug of ale." His silky voice seemed to carry across the tavern, another thing he never really intended. Whenever he walked into this place, his born features tended to shout 'Innocent, pretty, gullible!' when in fact he was none of those things save pretty. Either way, no one seemed to suspect him of stealing their precious belongings right fro under their noses.

[Sygon]

Sygon did not have the precious belongings the thief sought. His sword was his only possession. He strode in, black as night he almost shimmered like the once molten obsidian glass of the Unseelie caverns. His body was riddled with muscle, strong and stately beneath a brown leather vest that was left unbuttoned to reveal perfect rows of cobblestone abs and a cavernous chest beneath. His nipples glinted of silver ringers just as his ears did, and his eyes shone the same color. The Conri was sidhe at first glance, but it had not always been that way.

In fact, weeks ago Sygon had come into power. He had done so while protecting a human garlanger from King Cel. Sygon’s protection had been more subtle than wielding sword against the Unseelie leader though. Sygon imagined if he had raised his sword in protest of the King’s will he would’ve found that the Hand of Flesh wouldn’t be his biggest concern. But rather, Sygon had protected the female through flesh and love, sex with the female and the king, contact that had made him a sidhe. He stared down at his hand; he could call emerald fire now, the Hand of Killing Flame. It was an odd situation. He should have hated Cel for forcing Alicia into the situation he had forced her into, for wielding the magic of Flesh upon him with some sadistic enjoyment. Yet Sygon could not completely shake some sense of gratitude for Cel, the King’s last words, You’re welcome echoed in his mind.

He shuddered as the King’s voice continued to whisper in his head, it whispered of terrible things, misdeeds that Cel had partaken in. He took a deep breath and looked to the bartender, ”Rum.” He simply said. He glanced down the bar, noticing a red haired man ordering. He knew the man, he thought, he had too, because if he didn’t then why did he seem so familiar? He must’ve been following him. Staring at the nimbus he gestured hello with the upward nod of his head, his jaw clenched tight.

[Dietrich]

As Dietrich quickly drained the mug in one gulp, slightly grimacing at the taste, a figure drew his eye. Quickly hiding the look of recognition in his eyes, he quickly ordered another mug of ale. He frowned trying to remember where he saw this man. Quickly a light entered his eyes as the recognition hit him. Of course he stalked lots of people. How else was one to steal something when one knew nothing about his intended prey? This man... he had been following him for a couple or so weeks now. At first he was gaging whether or not the sword was worth anything, but once he decided it wasn't worth stealing it became a matter of curiosity. It was more of a cat like quality than anything, a mere fascination. The nimbus sighed and almost pouted at his random curious streaks, the colorful moth tattoo on his neck flapped it's wing in response.

Seeing the man nod in his direction in hello, jaw a little tight...Dietrich realized he was so busted. Not panicked in the least he gave a small sigh and put lazy smile on his face, the light in his eyes making him appear very young (even though he wasn't) and very playful. He decided he may as well talk with the dark sidhe. The only other thing that looked like it was worth anything was the ring on the female garlangers finger in the corner...and judging by the way it caught the light and the way it was cut...so fake.

Taking a long swig from the mug he looked again at the dark sidhe on a couple seats from him, Dietrich's angelic face the epitome of innocent (no matter how hard he tried otherwise), he gave the dark man a nod back. "It seems to be a slow night so far." The statement meant many things. What he really meant it for was the fact that he wasn't finding anything worth stealing. However he also meant it for the fact that the bar wasn't packed as it was and nothing interesting was going on. No one knew him to be a thief so most would assume the later or it equivilent.

[Sygon]

Sygon’s mind raced as his stalker responded. His fist clenching into a ball so tight that several knuckles cracked, black skin pulled naughty over the dense bone of the massive behemoth. Thoughts raced through the sidhe’s mind at a pace he couldn’t keep up with. Thoughts of this man being in league with the Shades crossed his mind before the thought of the Shades led him back to the events at the festival. Was this man stalking Sygon merely hoping to get a glimpse of the famed sidhe who protected the gaggle of garlangers? Sygon then began wishing he never did such things as it wouldn’t have brought this fame upon him, the looks that the other faerie shot him as he walked through the court were hard to bare. Oh, how they stared, their eyes, so many eyes just staring at him at all times. He couldn’t help but feel angry at them all; he nearly burst, standing without consciously knowing he had done so.

He took a deep breath. Looking around at those who noticed his sudden outburst he realized he had been being a bit foolish. Sweat dampened his forehead; he reached up, feeling the dewy moisture that clung to his forehead. He couldn’t place what was bringing on this anxiety that he had been feeling lately, but such fits were becoming increasingly more common.

Again he inhaled deeply and looked to his presumed stalker. He wanted to be nice, to be cordial as he always was but he felt that same pang of anxiety rise up in him again. He couldn’t deny that he was suspicious of this man, ”Who are you?”

[Dietrich]

Dietrich watched the dark sidhe's face, curious at what brought upon these emotions the guy displayed. Dietrich tensed slight as he watched the man stand, anger apparent in his eyes. However the man seemed to come back to himself and sat back down, turning his attention back to Dietrich.

Curiosity screamed high and nigh at Dietrich, his fingers itched to touch the big mans face, the emotions that had displayed across it. However, Dietrich held back the urge. It was just an innocent curiosity, and innocent urge. Like what a cat merely did when rubbing himself against someones leg, begging for attention. Besides his appearance fascinated Dietrich. Stamping down the urge again, Dietrich highly doubted that the man would appreciate his innocent urge.

Turning his struggling attention back to the big man as he ask for his name, Dietrich chuckled, a silky sound that caused others to glance at him. "The names Dietrich and conri amongst these courts. Might I be so bold as to ask your name?" Dietrich was good at beating around bushes, he had played these games many times before. Besides he really would like to put a name to the faces he's stalked so many times in the past couple of weeks.

Dietrich meant the man no harm, his curiousity and stalking was innocent (well now it was). Dietrich took a sip from his mug, oblivious to the stares of the other patrons. They didn't hold his attention, the dark sidhe beside him did.

[Sygon]

”No.” His tones were cold as he turned back to the bar. He reached down and took up his tin cup of run in a shaking hand. Sygon stared straight ahead trying his best to forget the presence of the other man as well as ignore the shaking in his extremities. In truth, Sygon was hoping his intense focus, his staring at the wall behind the bar would simply quell the neurotic feeling that plagued him, but it did not. He continued to shake, painfully aware of the other man’s gaze.

A chorus of chattering, dozens of hushed voices whispered in coarse tones somewhere to his right. His head snapped up at the man who had been looking at him, but it was only him, not a chorus of a dozen conspirators who plotted against him. He wheeled in his seat, turning his body and stepping away from the barstool. Two long strides and a hand to push away the barstool that separated them closed the distance between them. He looked down at the nimbus, ”What do you want?” He whispered harshly as his other hand fell to his sword.

Sygon’s eyes held a crazed look. The man had captured the deranged sidhe’s attention, and it was not for the better.

[Dietrich]

Dietrich pouted as the man said no. He guessed it was time for his awesome naming random people time. Here he thought he was being nonthreatening. Dietrich watched the man, the dark sidhe's inner struggle was apparent. What was going through his head? Were the rumors of insanity entering some of the unseelie who were amongst the festival true? Dietrich wondered curiously if this was what was wrong with the dark sidhe.

Dietrich didn't panic as the other bore down on him, an almost crazed look in the other sidhe's eyes. Looking at the hand that rested on the blade, Dietrich knew the man would not get reaction he expected. Due to the curse laid upon him long ago, Dietrich did not feel pain as other do. Many would call him a masochist to the extreme. However Dietrich did not wish the world to know that and decided to try and placate the man before any embarrassing discoveries could be made.

"Whoa there Dippin Dots, I mean you no harm what-so-ever if that's what you want to know. And currently I want nothing from you. I'm merely curious that is all. Now can we talk like civilized men or do you wish to stick the pointy end of your blade in me? I assure you, Dots, no harm will come to you from me." Dietrich smiled at the man, a pleasant innocent smile. Dietrich decided then that until the man told him his name, he would call him Dippin Dots (or Dots for short). If not Dippin Dots he was sure Skippy or Flipper would go over quite well. Dietrich believed his naming abilities were a godsend.