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havinalarkThe temple was quiet, the only movement being the patrolling of the guards outside. In the dormitories the priests slept peacefully, trusting in the guards to protect the treasures hidden within the deepest sanctuary of the temple.
The guards, unfortunately, are not prepared for the dark shadow that knows exactly where they are patrolling and where their blindspots are, and slips through without them noticing. Nobody expects the soft, barely-there footfalls of the black-clad figure slipping through the darkened temple corridors, and they certainly don't expect someone to be able to pick the lock of the large oak door protecting the inner sanctuary and slip in, ready to do the same to the heavy padlock holding closed the chest that contains the temple's most sacred artefact - a golden statue that somebody has paid the Wing very, very good money to steal.
No, the are not prepared for any of that. Unfortunately, the wing was not prepared for what came next.
The slim redhead was crouched in front of the chest, working carefully at the padlock. As usual Lark was clad in simple black leggings and tunic, baggy enough to hide the femininity of her form, the black hood hiding her hair and a half mask covering her nose and mouth all helping to keep her identity - and gender - a secret. She appeared completely focused on the task at hand, but she had half an ear out for any disturbance, and when she heard a noise she was sweeping her tools into a pouch and disappearing into a shadowy corner, waiting to see who was coming.
The guards, unfortunately, are not prepared for the dark shadow that knows exactly where they are patrolling and where their blindspots are, and slips through without them noticing. Nobody expects the soft, barely-there footfalls of the black-clad figure slipping through the darkened temple corridors, and they certainly don't expect someone to be able to pick the lock of the large oak door protecting the inner sanctuary and slip in, ready to do the same to the heavy padlock holding closed the chest that contains the temple's most sacred artefact - a golden statue that somebody has paid the Wing very, very good money to steal.
No, the are not prepared for any of that. Unfortunately, the wing was not prepared for what came next.
The slim redhead was crouched in front of the chest, working carefully at the padlock. As usual Lark was clad in simple black leggings and tunic, baggy enough to hide the femininity of her form, the black hood hiding her hair and a half mask covering her nose and mouth all helping to keep her identity - and gender - a secret. She appeared completely focused on the task at hand, but she had half an ear out for any disturbance, and when she heard a noise she was sweeping her tools into a pouch and disappearing into a shadowy corner, waiting to see who was coming.
