A Mess of a World: the Etched Stone

4.1) Tristis

One more assignment. One more glorious assignment! Tristis thought, smiling widely as he looked down from his spot on the rooftop.

Clusters of people stood around the play underneath him, and he could easily make out his mark, even though she stood amongst her fellow mourners all wearing uniform grey.

With the money he'd make from the Misted Rogues, he would be able to resign and finally be free to live in seclusion where the world could do no more harm to him and he to it. His favorite place in the world was just outside the city and in the Filyr Forests. His cave he had been preparing and making fit to live in.

The very thought filled him with bliss, before his heart sunk in his chest. He'd have to leave the world behind if he decided to live there and desert the Misteds, including leaving his brothers and sisters and parents.

They understand. He reminded himself. They know why I have to.

He pulled his hood down over his curly white hair and climbed down the side of the wall, just out of sight of the viewers.

The play on display was the very same they had every day around the exact same time, and frankly Tristis was getting tired of the theater masks of tragedy and the sobbing of the crowds. Sadness was an easy emotion to work with as the heaviness of sorrow seemed to fill everyone inside the city, but Tristis wished they would mix it up a little.

It's not going to make anyone feel better, He sighed. Passing by several nobles with their coin purses just waiting to be taken, Tristis skirted around the edge of the crowd right where his mark was... but someone standing beside her caught his attention.

Growing up in the Greyven Mountains, he and all of his siblings had white hair and pale skin. Even the Misted Rogues who had originally come from there still looked the same, and so different colored eyes, hair, and skintones always fascinated him.

And he had most certainly never seen a person with such long dark red hair.

She stared lazily at the performance, with her eyes moving around in occasion. A little brown-haired girl beside her whispered something into her ear and took her full attention, making a perfect opportunity.

Tristis walked alongside his mark, a middle-aged woman, and bumped into her, pretending to want to get closer to the stage. He stumbled and grabbed onto the woman's hand for support.

"Are you alright?" She asked, looking down at him with a motherly concern.

"Adranna'las, madam." He apologized, before translating, "Excuse me."

"Hey!"

The red-haired girl was staring right at him, pointing an accusing finger.

Oh for... Tristis pushed the girl to the side and darted down the street in a full sprint.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman he'd just robbed stare blankly as he ran off until she was far behind him.

Tristis laughed as adrenaline filled his system. Freedom! He thought in ecstasy, keeping a tight hold on the stolen ring. He stole a glance over his shoulder and his jaw fell.

The red-haired girl was chasing after him! And nearly matching his speed!

Alarm and panic quickly replaced his carefree joy and in his haste to remain ahead, his hood fell down, exposing his wild white hair.

To his surprise, the girl seemed to falter in confusion.

"Stop! Thief!" She yelled. Her voice was youthful but stern.

They ran by loads of people but no one seemed to pay them any real attention, all were soaking in their own depression to care.