The Thief and the Spider

Bridgeport, Lord I love this place. Smells of cigarettes, booze, debauchery, and victory. Bridgeport is known throughout the land as one of the scummiest places you can ever find yourself in, the crowded city streets filled with all sorts of life. Every 2-bit crime lord, rebel, bandit, highway, and cult has their grubby little mitts in Bridgeport, rubbing their fingers together at the very thought of making money.

There's no middle class here, just the poor sods that work below and the cigar chomping aristocrats doing less than noble things to get where they are, going as far as to stab their own mothers in the heart if it means they get an extra cent in their purses. The homes in the noble quarters scream of “elegance”, their homes lined with silver and gold as far as the eyes can see, ornaments from far off lands, and hand painted portraits ranging from a thousand royals and up.

Which suits me just fine.

Growing up, I was never really that big or tough or strong, I was probably the wimpiest kid in the city. The slags wanted to feel like big men and push me around, smash my head into walls, kick the shit out of me, you name it. And those snooty noble blood's had too much money to even bless me with their piss. When no one likes you, you either get clever or you get dead, and I got clever. You tend to learn a few things when no ones got your back, how to disappear, how to not be spotted at all, how to blend in, how to move without making a sound. These little skills tend to improve over time, and when I pulled a primpers purse out from his front pocket and fed my family for 2 weeks, I knew how to implement said skills into a business.

And business is good.

Make no god damn mistake, I'm no noble Taffer, I don't steal from the rich and give to the poor. I give to myself and those I give a shit about, I'm not going to waste my time throwing money out into the streets for some idiotic notion of fame just so the slags can drink for another night if I can just move from house to house with no one suspecting any the wiser. Only a few people even know I exist, mostly various fencers I know aren't going to say no to jewel encrusted goblets out of some misplaced sense of morality. And even then they don't know my name or my actual profession, I move from area to area, pawning off the goods I stole before returning to my humble abode for a good days rest.

I walked down the abandoned alleyway, examining the set of silver spoons in my coat pocket once more, an easy fifty royals for the lot of them. I have to calm down and lay it low for awhile, the primpers are pulling their hairs out and the city watch is going head on trying to figure out who I am. I have enough supplies and royals to last me the month, by that time the watch and the primpers should have calmed their nerves and its back to business.

They started blaming the help, those poor bastards. Their fancy alarm systems are rather easy to get around, once you figure out where the gear and alarm is set on the windows, gives me just enough room to squeeze in.

With no one around, I climbed up the side of the building and on to the roof, opening the trap door that led into my little home. I threw the silverware off to the side, lowering my cowl and reaching for the matches. I sighed to myself as I lit one, bringing flame to the lantern in the centre of my little room.

“Hello, Felix.”

I span around towards the voice, drawing the dagger from my side. A man in a leather coat sat at my desk with his feet up. The balding man had grey hair on each side of his head, and a beard that ran down almost past his neck. He was dragging his finger across the flat of his rapier, examining it carefully before sheathing it.

“Relax, I mean you no harm, not yet at least.”

“How do you know me?” I asked him, taking a step back while he stood up from my desk.

“Took a lot of effort to track you down, really.” The man said, stepping in front of my desk. “Had to cover a lot of your tracks to make sure my colleagues don't catch on.

“You work for the city watch then.”

“Smart man. What gave it away?” He asked mockingly.

“I can smell bacon from a mile away.” I responded.

The man snorted at my remark, lifting a snow globe I had placed on the desk.

“Where'd you steal this one?” He asked me.

“No where, that ones mine.”

“I see.” He placed the snow globe back on the desk. “Now then, shall we talk business?”

“I don't do contract work.”

“Correction.” The man said, raising a finger. “You haven't done contract work. You just haven't had the right incentive.”

My eyes trailed with the man as he walked around the room, I made sure to match my step with his to keep an appropriate distance.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to retrieve something for me.” He explained. “A little different from your usual work, I'm sure it isn't stealing if there isn't anyone alive to claim it as theirs.”

“I'm listening...”

“You've heard of Barrows Asylum, correct?”  He asked.

“The 'haunted' old building just outside of the city? Who hasn't?”

“No man has ever dared enter the bowels of that building. They say its cursed, that you can hear the devil sing in its depths.” He goes on. “Every investigator, thrill seeker, or god damn tomb raider I've ran into in the last two years refuses to go in that fucking building.”

“Then why don't you go?” I ask him.

He scowls, looks ready to draw steel and cut me down, not that my dagger would do much to protect me, mind you.

“I look at that building, I feel nothing but dread, no fibre of my being wants to enter.”

“You're too scared, is what you're saying.”

“Of course I'm scared! Everyone's heard the stories, everyone who's gone near the building has seen the shadows move at night!”

“And what makes you think I'll risk my ass for you?” I finally ask with a shrug.

“Because I got your ass.” He growled, pointing an accusing finger. “No one knows who you really are but me. You kill me, and eventually the hammer of the law is going to come down on you and come down hard. You do as I say, and you can go back to prowling in the shadows like nothing happened once I leave.”

I sighed, rubbing my eyes with my finger and thumb, this guy really isn't going to listen to anything I have to say, I may as well play along.

“Okay, fine. What do you want?”

He smiled victoriously, leaning against the wall.

“There's an old painting in the asylum, one of a kind. It was a gift to the warden from the king himself. Its a painting of a maiden in white behind the wardens desk for Lucio Denagio himself. Whoever gets his hands on it is going to be a very rich man.”

“So I get a cut?” I asked him.

“You? No. You don't get a shit other than I turn a blind eye to your dealings in the future.”

I furrowed my brow, as much as I wanted to slit this guy's throat before he could even reach for his sword, it pains me to say he has me in a corner with this.

“Fine...” I accepted begrudgingly. “But after this we're through. We're fucking ghosts to one another, got that?”

“Fine by me.” He said with a venomous smirk. “When you finish the job, you can drop the painting off at the Foghorn manor down town.”

Dylan Foghorn, huh? Never seen him in person, but its nice to put a face on the Baron's little pet snake.

Without even as much as a dismissal, Foghorn let himself out, leaving me in the shadow of my comfy abode.

Barrows asylum...Just looking at it gives me the creeps. I spent the entire day in the dark of my attic before tonight, its been cloudy for the last couple of days and I wasn't going to depend on what little moon light I had. A three story building, once an asylum, then an orphanage, then an asylum again. Not a lot of good vibes here. The wall was easy, just a running start and a hop and I was over, leaving me knee deep in wet grass that hasn't been taken care of in quite some time. This place reeks of taboo, many of the windows were even still intact, with only a few that had fallen victims to a stone peppered in between.

Rumours say that at the dead of knight, you can hear feint humming coming from within these walls, but much to my luck I haven't been visited by such an apparition. With a building like this, going through the front door would be a hassle, too much locks and counter measures to go through, so window it is.

The window barely put up a fight, with only a few tugs before I broke it free and lifted it open. My foot touched the floor board with a cringing creek, the sound echoing through the abandoned hauls of the old manor. The air made me uncomfortable, but not uncomfortable enough to go explain to that ponce why I didn't get his retirement slip.

In the Wardens office, huh? Judging by the buildings layout it shouldn't be far. Large, two sided doors means that visitors were allowed, the entrance was sculpted and welcoming, which means that the main office should just be up this set of stairs.

The stairs leading to the second floor were large, taking up most of the main entrance with just two tiny doors at the sides leading deeper into the first floor. Heading up the stairs I immediately spot a door with smudges on the window, the wardens name having been wiped away. It wasn't even locked, the door creaking open as I pushed it. The secretary office still had the painting of the warden above the desk, a rather plump little bastard.

This was too easy, taboo or not, how could no one have come in here before me? Triumphantly, I open the door into the main office, only to find an outline of a large rectangle above the ginormous desk.

“Shit...” I cursed to myself, stepping into the room. Of course someone was here before me, why wouldn't they be?

I had no leads, no place to start looking, there's no way in hell I could get that fucking painting for that slimy cock sucker. I sighed and sat down on the desk, thinking of my next course of action. Maybe skip town? Or skip country? I've always wanted to steal from people that don't speak my language...

Then my ears twitched, the sound of humming began to fill the old hall. It was coming closer, from the right of me, by the distance it had to be coming from the first floor. I creeped along the path I had taken earlier, hiding in the shadows behind the hand railings. The humming came from the room down the stairs and to the right, the waiting room from what I saw when I first entered. Closer and closer it came until I could hear the sound of steps against the floor panels. Thump after thump after rapid thump filled my ears until I spotted a shadow come from around the corner.

“Oh dear.” A feminine voice complained. “Why is this window open?”

Even with my eyes tuned to the dark, I couldn't make out the figure in front of me. It was large, too large to be human, and every time it moved it moved rapidly and smoothly across the room. I didn't know what the hell this creature was, but I had my lead.

Whether she had it or not, I wasn't willing to leave this place empty handed. That, and my curiosity got the better of me. I was never one to be afraid, for all I know this thing eats taffers like me, but I'm dead anyway, so I may as well give it a shot.

Following it was more than difficult. It moved freely and rapidly down the halls and across the room, while I moved from cover to cover. I wasn't sure if this thing could see in the dark, but considering it moved so elegantly without bumping into anything, I wasn't going to risk it. Eventually I developed a strategy, timing my movements with it's humming to keep up with it. I observed as best I could, from cover, examining its every move.

Was it...Cleaning?

“There, that should about do it for today~” The strange creature said to itself, tossing a cloth towards a drawer.

My eyes widened when I saw her change course in my direction, moving to the side and pressing my back against the wall. I held my breath, my shoulder narrowly missing the creatures side as it walked past. Getting a closer look, I counted eight legs, planting themselves on the ground and pushing off the walls as the creature moved down the hall. It was a spider, a giant spider. To think a monster like this could even exist, let alone speak!? I watched as the creature opened a door at the end of the hall and entering. My morbid curiosity got the better of me, and luckily I'm not arachnophobic.

I followed up along the door as soon as it shut, with my hand on the nob I slowly began to twist in hopes that I wouldn't give myself away with a door creak. With my other hand against the frame I opened it slower than a sloth's climb, leaving a gap only large enough for me to slip through before I closed it again, letting go of the nob as soon as I was sure it wouldn't make a click.

The doorway led into the cellar, a pair of stairs leading into the darkness stood before me. Any sane man would have called it quits here, but I was far too lost in my new found hobby to tuck tail. Once again the humming filled my ear, my feet brushing against the wood of the stairs as softly as they possibly could.

I turned to my right at the bottom of what seemed like an endless descent, now completely engulfed in the cellars frightening darkness. The cellar was as wide as the asylum itself, the ground concrete and support beams visible at all sides. The ceiling above looked like some sort of macabre play place, with chains and iron openings enough for me or even it to slip and move through, it was obvious why it came down here, a place it could move so freely.

Through the darkness I moved, groping at the wall with my left hand and glancing over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't being followed. Like a rat in a maze I moved from corner to corner, my eyes making out the shapes of things in front of me but nothing more. The darkness seemed to continue forever until I finally spotted a light at the end of this very somber tunnel.

As a ghost in a shadow I found myself against the wall beside the entrance way, the light source just around the corner. The humming was now loud and very audible, a lullaby of sorts, though I can't pin point its harmonic origins. I hesitated at first, broken between seeing this through or calling it quits and accepting my fate in Bridgeport. Should I turn back now and become a wanted man? On the run until I am finally caught and strung up? Or do I risk being caught by this creature, this monster and see what it has in stores for me?

If I am going to die, I'm going to die in an interesting way. I finally peaked around the corner, seeing this creature fully in the light of a lantern. I was taken aback, as to say. The thoughts in my head of some horrible monster from the depths of hell were quickly whisked away as soon as my eyes laid upon it, or should I say her?

Atop the body of a spider was that of a woman, her body thin and fit to compliment her rather large bust. Her hair was silver and rolled down to her shoulders. She was wearing a black dress that buttoned to the neck, its frilly skirt adorned over her arachnid lower half. She was fixated on the knitting whatever it was she was working on, only taking her hands off the needles to brush away her hair. When she did so, she revealed her eight, large ruby eyes.

Though I knew I should be disturbed at such a sight, I found myself infatuated with her charm. Extra eyes or no, she was rather beautiful, with her soft, silky white skin giving her an appearance of a princess or some other sort of nobility.

She continued to hum to herself with a content smile, lifting a pair of multicoloured mittens in front of her.

“There.” She said to herself. “Now I won't have cold hands this winter.”

I cursed myself as I snickered, covering my mouth and swinging back around the wall and out of sight. I found the idea of a creature such as her knitting a pair of mittens endearing the same way you would a kitten playing with a ball of string. For a moment I had lost my composure and maybe my life.

The spider woman gasped, much to my dismay she had heard my little laugh. She held her mittens close to her chest, looking into the darkness around her.

“Wh-who's there!?” She called out, scampering backwards against the wall. After a panicked glimpse at her surroundings she shook her head and coughed into her hand, straightening her body upon her eight legs.

“I mean!” She called out again, clearing her throat. “Who's the little fly that has fallen into my web?”

Too late for that, sweet heart.

Still, the idea of being impaled against one of her many, and rather sharp looking, legs was still clear in my mind, I'd rather not risk it... I looked above, spotting an open pathway above that led into her room. It was still concealed in darkness, away from the prying light of the lantern, and hopefully for me that was also blinding her to the dark.

I climbed it as fast as I could without making much of a sound, lifting myself up and balancing in between the iron of the archway. From up here I had a better look of the room she was in, it was a rather bland sight, though the large bed she slept on was rather girlish, with pink sheets and an abundance of fluffy pillows.

And there, right above her bed, was my prize. A painting of a women in white, even from here it looked gorgeous. And ripe for the picking, if I might add.

“There's definitely someone in here...” I heard her whisper to herself. “What should I do?”

Believing to be out of sight, she once again returned to the persona of a scared little girl, holding her mittens close to her chest and prancing back and forth in panic.

“What if its some sort of monster?” She gulped. “Or...Or the boogeyman!?”

For a giant spider woman that lives in an abandoned asylum, she sure seemed afraid of a lot of things. I watched as she took another deep breath, waving her hands over her body as if she was practising meditation.

“Its okay...Just stay in character and maybe it will go away...Just like daddy taught you...” She said to herself before once again clearing her throat. “I hope you don't mind staying for dinner, little fly.~”

Cute.

“I'll...I'll gain the high ground on it!”

Shit.

I held my breath as the creature climbed the wall, balancing herself on a few support beams before entering the darkness I called my friend. Her eyes became to glow a shade of crimson as she was engulfed in the shadows, causing me to instinctively cut off any kind of visual connection between us. I slipped back under the archway, digging my finger between a crack in the iron. Her legs made audible taps against the metal as she moved around, her first leg connecting not far from my left hand.

The pain in my joints became quite clear, though still I held on. My lungs burned in my chest with my breath held, and my bones shoulder blades complained as I refused their movement. This spider woman cautiously advanced down the hall, tapping right above me and almost brushing against the top of my head with her carapace. I held on for dear life, letting her gain distance from me before I even dared to let go of my breath.

“U-um...” I heard her mumble before speaking up again. “I'm coming to get you, little fly.”

I just want to take her home.

I have no idea why her sight didn't somehow break me. Why I didn't cry out to every god I could possibly think of or run away screaming like a mad man. The very sight of this creature would destroy lesser men, yet I didn't feel disgust or even fear. To me, she was beautiful. And even though the stem is covered in thorns, there is still a rose at the end of it.

With her finally out of sight, I dropped back to the ground, rubbing the pain out of my fingers before advancing forward. I stepped into the room and towards the bed, my prize was at hand. All that was asked of me was to cut it from it portrait and roll it up before getting the hell out of there.

And yet, curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself rummaging through her drawers in search of any kind of clue as to lead to her existence. Eventually, I came across her diary, and against my own, loose and slightly busted, moral compass, I looked inside.

Much to my dismay, there was no shocking reveal, no codex of spider-woman creation or origin story. It was just day to day thoughts. Wondering if her dress looked good on her, what she'll do if she runs out of knitting supplies, one page had her fawning over some prince charming character in one of her fairy tales, I felt kind of jealous.

I shook my head, throwing the book back into the shelf and unconsciously slamming it shut. I went back to the task at hand, balancing myself on the frame of her bed so I didn't dirty up her perfectly laid out sheets.

“Perfect...” I whispered, dragging the tip of my dagger along the edges of the portrait. Carefully I made my way from corner to corner of the painting, catching it and rolling it up. I smiled confidently, twirling the painting in my fingers and hopping off the bed. Now all I had to do was sneak out of this damn loony bin. And the first step was to just turn around and...

Turn around and...

Oh shit.

There she was, standing right in front of me, only a few inches away. Her eight eyes peered into my two, attempting to bat away her own nervousness by looking as intimidating and irritated as she possibly could.

“There you are, little fly.” She mocked, planting her front legs against her bed and forcing me back.

I yelped and fell backwards against her bed, the painting slipped from my hand and patted gently against the ground below.

“You were trying to steal from me...” She growled, towering over me.

I tried to gain distance, scrambling against the bed until my back hit the wall to its side. The spider-woman leaned down, looming over me like the angry eyes of god.

“Now, little fly.” She started. “What shall we do with you?”

I didn't dare reach for my dagger, I didn't know how fast she could move and I wasn't going to tempt fate to find out.

“I adore that painting, mind you.” She explained. “And you thought you could just walk out of here with it? What do you have to say for yourself?”

I sat in silence, looking up at her with no words coming to my mouth. I opened it three times only to close it again with no phrase uttered.

“Well?” She demanded again.

“I'm...I'm sorry.” I spoke up. “Its just...I can't seem to look away from your eyes. They're like shining rubies.”

The spider-woman flinched and her face turned bright red.

“W-what!?” She blurted, her character suddenly broken.

“I'm just trying to say they're really beautiful.” I admitted, sitting up straight against the wall.

The spider-woman reeled away, clapping her hands against her cheeks and refusing eye contact.

“You can't just say things like that!” She cried out.

“I'm sorry!” I blurted, honestly not knowing how to react to any of this. “I just didn't know what you were going to do!”

“Humans shouldn't even be here!” She cried again. “You're making me break character!”

“I was just here for the painting, really!” I admitted my guilt. “If I knew it meant something to you I would have at the very least tried to haggle for it!”

“Well, you're not getting it!” She pointed accusingly. “Thief! Taffer! Robber! Scrounger!”

“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.” I said with a lower tone, trying to calm both myself and her down. “M-My names Felix. Felix Conrow.”

She looked at me in silence, her eyes examining me closely before she finally gulped and took a deep breath.

“I-I'm Stacy.” She stuttered. “It's been awhile since...Since I've had company. Especially human company.”

“Its nice to meet you, Stacy.” I said as courteously as I could. “But what are you doing here, if I might ask?”

“I live here, isn't that obvious?”

“Well, its obvious, sure. But why?”

“Where else am I going to go?” She asked me with a furrowed brow. “Its not like there are others like me.”

“So, you're one of a kind?” I asked, somewhat regretting my choice of words. “Where did you come from?”

“I...I can't remember.” She admitted. “All I remember is my father running away from something, or someone, when I was a child. Next thing I know I ended up here.”

“You've been here since you were a kid?” I asked in disbelief. “How did you even survive.

“Well...My father used to work in town and bring back supplies every time he could. But then he passed away...”

“I'm...I'm sorry to hear that.” I responded, not sure how to console her.

“I miss him dearly. But its not all bad! I wait until its dark and then sneak into town for food and materials.” She reassured me.

“You sneak into town?” I said in disbelief. “I've never even heard anything about that, they blame most robberies on me.”

“I'm really careful.” She said with an embarrassed smile.

“Considering I didn't even know you exist until now, you're probably better than me. Its a wonder you didn't catch me when I was skulking around before.”

Stacy's smile grew wider, looking towards the ground before making eye contact with me again.

“Its nice to have someone to talk to.” She admitted. “Its been a very long time.”

“I can't imagine going so long without contact, myself.” I told her.

I broke eye contact with her, looking down at the painting that had been unravelled on the ground beside me. I sighed and picked it up, presenting it to her.

“Here.” I offered. “Take it, I don't want it anymore.”

“Really? But you came all the way down here to get it.” She asked.

“It obviously means something to you.” I said to her with a shrug. “And if I start now, I'll be out of the country before the ponce who black mailed me to come down here realizes I skipped town.”

Stacy took the painting from my hand, observing it closely. She smiled warmly, placing it on her night stand before turning back to me. Without saying a word, Stacy climbed two of her legs on to the bed, hovering over me once more. I looked up at her in confusion, being greeted by a sultry smile.

“Its been rather boring being all by my lonesome.” She whispered.

I tried to reposition myself and hoist myself up with my hands, only to struggle when I tried to part them. I looked down at my hands, both of them tied together at the wrist with silky webbing.

“When—How!?” I yelped, patting my tied hands against my belt for my dagger, hoping to unbind my hands.

“Looking for this?” Stacy asked, twirling my dagger between her fingers.

“How did you do that!?” I gasped, watching the steel spin elegantly in her fingers.

“You did say I must be a better thief than you, didn't you?” She asked with a devilish grin.

Before I could as much as protest, my trousers were unbuckled and tossed across the room, leaving me bare and at her mercy.

“Sorry about this...” Said Stacy as she undressed herself, her hands fidgeted with every movement and her body shook. “I've been alone for so long, I don't know what to do anymore.”

I remained silent, more trying to figure out how I got myself into this situation rather than trying to put up stoic resistance. The more human part of her body was a treat for the eyes, her large breasts bouncing as they were released from their covers. I almost forgot that the rest of her was a giant spider, though that didn't bother me as much when she closed in and grabbed my bound hands. My fingers sunk into her skin, the feel of her breast in my hands put weight on my wrists. She brushed the hair from her eyes with her free hand and leaned in to softly kiss my neck.

I could feel my unrestrained member getting harder until it touched it touched her abdomen. She gasped and smiled, her fingers wrapping around my shaft and gripping it firmly before she began to stroke it. She kept my eyes locked with hers, pulling my chin up and kissing me on the lips every time I tried to look down at the rest of the act. Finally, my member was engulfed in a tight wetness, Stacy moaned out as I entered her and she pressed down against my pelvis.

She began to grind and churn, placing her hands on my shoulders and those appendages in the front of her spider body wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer. This continued throughout the night, her pace and actions changing but I would be lying if I said it wasn't enjoyable. She held me close throughout the event, unwilling to let me go even for a second.

After a long while, I finally felt the tingling sensation flow through my loins, my teeth gritting and my pelvis arching as I came inside her. Stacy gasped and held me close, her fangs digging into my shoulder  until I fired my last string of spirit inside of her. She rubbed her nose against mine before locking lips again, her finger trailing against my restraints and releasing my arms. I wrapped my own arms around her, pulling her closer and holding the embrace. It looks like I found something I wasn't looking for, not that I was going to complain.
--

“What's taking that fool so long?” Foghorn asked himself, returning home from his duty.

It has been two days since he sent Felix into that asylum. Was it really cursed? That damn pick pocket better not have kept the painting for himself!

“Maybe I should just blather...” He muttered. “Tell the world about this mysterious 'ghost' that's been bleeding the town dry.”

He shook his head, twisting the lock on his front door and stepping into his home. He pulled his coat from his shoulders, lifting it towards it usual hanging spot and dropping it, only for the coat to plummet to the ground.

Foghorn turned to where his coat hanger should be, only to find an outline of it in the dust that had settled. His eyes widened, looking around the corner into his study to find every book and valuable picked, leaving only a lonely desk and an empty chair. The kitchen was looted of all its silverware and every painting was picked from the wall like an apple from a tree.

His face turned red, rushing up the stairs into his bedroom to find only a naked mattress resting in a bed frame, his silk sheets and pillows missing. His heart pounded in his chest, throwing open his now empty closet to search desperately for what was left.

“Just where I left it!” He sighed in relief, crouching down at the safe bolted to the ground.

He put in the combination and twisted the key and lock, opening the safe only to be shot with another crippling sense of horror. The safe was empty, all of his valuables and gold were gone as well as any document framing Felix of his crimes against the city of Bridgeport. Foghorn jumped up the his feet, his face turning purple with rage as he thrashed around the room, both confused at how he should react and what he should do next before he finally screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Felix Conrow!!!”

--
“I don't know why you didn't think of it before.” Stacy stated, her eyes focused on her knitting.

“I guess I've just never been backed in a corner like that.” I told her, examining the golden ring between my two fingers. “Not that it matters now.”

I looked away from the ring and to the ocean water ahead of us. Skipped two countries with the help of a 'loaned' wagon and a train ride. A house overlooking a beach this beautiful would have cost me an arm and a leg, but I still became its proud owner with a generous donation from Dylan Foghorn.

Stacy placed her knitting needles in her shelf, crawling down from the wall and joining me on the ground. She stood behind my wooden beach chair and wrapped her arms across my chest.

“So, what do we do now?” She asked me.

“Well, we don't have to do much.” I said. “We have enough money to live comfortably out here.”

“Oh, but whats the fun in that?” She cooed into my ear.

I looked up at her and wiggled my brows.

“I heard the nobles here have a thing for golden ornaments.” I informed her.

“Soooo?~” She asked with a smile.

“So, what do you say we get to work?”