Miri

“Am I supposed to write something funny here?”-Miri Lightkin.

Miri sprints through the market district, weaving through the crowds like a ghost. 

“Hey! Watch it!” 

At least, that’s what she was going for. 

“Sorry!” Miri yells behind her, cloak fluttering in the wind. She turns a corner and looks at the stuffy bag of coins in her hands. “Not sorry.” She chuckles. 

Miri unties the lace of the coin purse and inspects her haul. 

“Fuckin’ coppers.” She walks back out into the square, brows furrowed. 

“Hey!” She shouts at her robbed victim. “Take your stupid fuckin’ coppers back!” Miri sneers, tossing the bag back into the crowd, not that it hits its mark. Instead of hitting its owner’s face it falls straight into a well with a echoing splash.  

“Well…that’s just a shame. Oh well.” Miri shrugs and walks off, then bursts into laughter so loudly the whole square gawks at her. “Ha! Well! Gods, I’m good!” 

Her frown deepens. “What?”

The crowd then resumes their business, as if she was never even there. 

“Yea, that’s right! Mind your own business! Buncha snobs.” 

She turns on her heel and bumps into a much taller figure. 

“Ma’am? Your permit?” A rough, leathery voice asks. 

“My-my permit?” Miri stammers, pretending to search herself for papers. 

“Ma’am you don’t have pockets.”

She fixes the man with a glare. “Thank you for pointing that out. I mean seriously!” She throws her arms in the air. “I’m a bloody rogue and all I get for is this excuse for a…armor…” Miri scratches her chin with her gloved hand. 

“Why is it that my rogue armor has a skirt? Why is it that it’s so sleek and that my shoes have heels?”

The man blinks, staring in mesmerized confusion. 

“My cloak has pockets! But it’s a cloak. That flutters. That things fall out of! You know once I robbed a store that sells codpieces which…was surprisingly overflowing with coin.” She folds her arms. 

“The good coin, not the bad coin.” She continues. “You know how it goes. Gold is good, Silver is amazing, Copper is worth less then my shit.” Miri half-sings half-rhymes.

“And I have great shit. Threw it at a spider goblin once! It ran away screaming.” She beams. 

“What-“

Miri puts her finger on the man’s mouth. “Shhhh! I’m rambling.”

She lays a hand on her hip. “I mean, coppers are lovely if you’ve got hundreds of them. Then you might get something decent. If you can haggle. I can’t haggle.”

She sniffs. “So I rob and i plunder. Is that so bad?” 

The man opens his mouth to speak, but she shushes him again. 

“I mean, I get it’s against the law. And that’s bad? Although I don’t see why me snatching a stuffy coin purse from some prissy snobby cocky noble who probably wouldn’t miss it anyway is a bad thing. I mean, it’s helping me survive! How is that bad?” 

Miri scratches her nose, eyes narrowed as if lost in some deep philosophical debate. 

“What was I saying?” 

The man begins to question his sanity, but he still can’t help but watch.

“I can’t remember. See I have the attention span of a flint-fly! I mean,” She bats her eyes. “Wow I say that a lot don’t I…” 

Miri shakes her head. “Anyway, I mean-fuck. Sorry. I was saying, flint flies are like…you could place an entire banquet’s worth of fire lilies in front of them. But if they see even the tiniest spark they’ll forget about their favorite food right in front of them. And I feel like I can relate that to a lot even though that’s never happened to me. You know, right?”

The man numbly nods his head. 

“If you know, you know!” She giggles. 

“Do you know where I can find a tailor? I want pockets. I mean sure this outfit really…” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m not going to talk about how it makes me look. That feels awkward. It makes me look slim, that’s all I’ll say. It’s really impractical though! I don’t suppose you understand given your…” 

She eyes the man’s sizable pouches. “Pockets.”

Miri sagely strokes her chin. “Do you keep food in there? Fruit? Maybe a clam or two you can slurp on the go? I would! I love clams! Though everyone always complains I eat them like a wild animal. I am not.”

The guard knits his brows. 

“Really! I am not! I,” she places a hand on her chest. “Am a girl of class. Always! Even when I’m throwing my shit around. Especially when I’m throwing my shit around. Not that I make a habit out of it. I had to shower in the rain and swim in the ocean for weeks last time I threw my shit. Am I forgetting something?”

Miri purses her lips. “Trick question, I’m always forgetting something.” She mumbles. 

“Oh yeah! My cloak! So anyway I was breaking into this codpiece store. And on my way out my loot was leaking out of my cloak! Fine I stuffed them full of jewels and gems and coin but still! A pocketed cloak is horribly impractical. Do you know where to find a tailor? Or a merchant selling rogue armor from the mainland? No?”

She tilts her head. “Yes? Maybe? Fuck you? Which one is it?” Miri says with a slight scowl, impatiently tapping her feet.

The guard shakes his head, awakening from his stupor. “Where is your permit!” The guard insists in a dagger-like tone. 

Miri rolls her eyes. “I don’t have a permit to be in the market district. Do I look like I have enough money? Or care even if I did?”

He balls his fists and moves to grab her. But she slithers from his grasp, draws her dagger and pommels his kneecaps with its hilt. 

“Sorry.” She grimaces as the man falls down in agony. “You’ve been lovely to talk to! Bye!”

Miri salutes the man then runs off, disappearing in the fog.  

                                                                                                           ****

“Where in the emperor’s tits is that girl?” A boyish, slightly nasal voice hisses. 

“Dunno. Maybe she found some rich noble gal and she’s…getting it on.” A velvety  soprano answers, her tone jovial and teasing, like an annoying little sister.

“Again?!” The boy snarls. “We’re supposed to meet in her broken ass clockwork tower to discuss our plans for the next heist and she’s late? She’s always late!”

“Well…”

“What?” 

“You can’t blame her for going off on adventure. She told us she spent a lot of time copped up in a castle. I’d wanna go off on adventures all the time too.”

“I can blame her! I can blame her all I like. Watch me!”

The girl bursts into giggles as they enter.

Hey you!” Miri chirps, greeting them hanging upside-down from the ceiling. “I met this lovely-“

“-beautiful noble girl to rob blindly? Please tell me you did.”

Miri folds her arms, shooting a mock-frown at the girl. 

“No. It was a guard, a guy, I think…don’t give me that look. Could’ve been a girl born in the wrong body or wind-hearted. You don’t know! But anyway the guard was very nice to chat with.”

The boy snorts. “They didn’t say a word to you did they? Did you ramble to someone unconscious again?” 

Miri scowls. 

“Oh come on, Zura. I’m sure she didn’t do that.”

She nods in agreement. “Mhmm!”

Zura narrows his eyes at Miri, seemingly still fine with hanging upside down. “So you did do that? Or you didn’t do that?”

“Yes!”

Miri cheeks her footing, then thoughtfully touches her lip. “Wait, no I didn’t! Yes I did? The guard wasn’t chit-chatting much but I’m mostly sure they were awake. And conscious. Probably. But anyway! The plan?”

Zura eyes his sister, subtly glancing at the empty table. “Lori?” 

She bows her head and lays a strange map on a crate. 

“Ooo! What’s that? Also, does either of you know where I can find a tailor? I’m tired of this impractical cloak and armor.”

Zura sighs. “I already told you, you just have to get used to it. Lisari rogues, thieves and even assassins only carry pockets on the inside of their cloaks. Their armor is shaped to enhance their agility and attractiveness without being worn down by such things.”

Miri wrinkles her nose. “I feel weird wearing it. Like I’m showing off. I don’t wanna show off. Not really.”

Lori scoffs, fumbling with her raggedy, purely functional clothes. “That’s just how it is. In the empire, everyone likes to show off. Everyone.”

“But…What kinda rogue’s armor has a skirt anyway?” Miri protests. “Seriously that can’t be practical, and it’s all velvety and soft…Sorceress wear silky soft clothes back home. Not dashing thieves and the like.”

Zura shrugs, more concerned with studying the map. “Your armor, like almost everything here, is reflective of the empire. Function may rule over fashion in the mainland. But here, if you don’t look beautiful, handsome or lovely while you do anything you might as well not exist.” 

He sighs again, this time much louder. “It’s a double edged sword. I’ve seen beauty beat genius and talent in the Lisari courts and high society more times then I count. But on the upside…it’s something you can take advantage of I suppose, and you have.”

Miri clenches her jaw. “I have not!” She hisses, finally climbing down. “Like I’d ever even want anything to do with such a shallow…way of life!”

“But you have,” Lorie says, a hint of bitter fury in her voice. “Emperor’s breath you’re a beautiful no-magic rogue. Did you think only spending a few days in jail when you’re a caught is a coincidence? That Lisari law is so lenient on petty thievery? No. The beautiful non-fabled are usually released or given lighter sentences. But the ugly…”

She traces her fingers down her facial scar. “Are left to rot.” 

Zura shakes his head. “I know you haven’t been here in the cities that long. But things really are different here from the farmlands.”

Miri hunches over, hugging herself. “I’m sorry, Lori.”

“It’s fine. I’m not angry at you, not really. I’m more angry at this country. Besides, you didn’t give me this scar. It’s okay.”

Zura claps his hands. “Let’s focus on the task at hand. Did you get the items?”

“No.” Miri mutters. “Too many of those new freaky machines. Ironguard, they call them.” 

“I’ll have to disguise us then.” She twirls a makeup brush in her hands. “Aren’t you glad I learned how to do makeup?” Lore grins. “The magical kind.” 

Miri waves her hands. “Wait, what are we robbing?”

“A brothel.” Zura states matter of factly. 

“COUNT ME THE FUCK IN!” Miri blurts, pumping her fist in the air. “Too soon?” 

The siblings shrug. 

“So anyway, Lori will disguise you as-“

“A beautiful noble lass with flowing pockets that every gal will wanna entertain? A towering, muscular guards woman that attracts the eyes? A daring adventurer looking for a place to unwind?” Her eyes light up like a magetorch in a bitch-black dungeon. 

“An enchanting sorceress with long flowing red hair and silken armor?! A wealthy princess from a foreign land looking for some fun?!!”

“I was just gonna make you some serving wench. Or a maid.” Lori replies in a flat no-nonsense tone.

Miri’s jaw drops. “A MAID?”

Zura pinches his nose. “There we go-“

“Why would I wanna be a MAID? I don’t wanna be a maid! I’m a fuckin’ dashing-carefree-mischievous, rob-your-arse-blind rogue wearing this stupid fucking armor not some serving girl that cleans piss-pots and gives out free foot rubs! I’m…I’m not a servant! I serve myself, and you two for the record! I refuse to be a servant. I won’t be a servant! I will not! I can’t-I won’t-I shan’t-and I shont!”

Lori tilts her head. “That’s not a word-“

“No but it RHYMES!” Miri huffs, crosses her arms. “I believe I’ve made my point. I’m gonna go hang upside down now.” 

“Why?” Zura asks, lips curled into a lopsided grin. 

“Because I feel like it!” She blows him a raspberry and acrobatically hangs herself from a support beam at the ceiling. 

“Miri,” Zura begins, his tongue as sharp as a blade. “Either you do this, or I throw out your cheese stash. And your sweetrolls.” 

Miri gasps, then falls from the ceiling. “You wouldn’t!” She flicks her head up, throwing her mane right in Lori’s face. 

“Watch your hair!”

Zura bends over, cocking his head in a dare-me gesture. “I would. All of your precious cheese wheels and sweetrolls. All your goat cheese and Eidar cheese wheels. Gone. Gone with the wind!” 

Miri draws her lip back into a snarl. “You disgust me. But fine! Fine…I’ll do it. I’ll be a…I’ll be a..maid. But I’m not happy about it. I’ll never be a maid again after this, do you hear me? Never.”

Lori rolls her eyes. “I don’t understand what’s so bad about being a servant.”

She protrudes her lip, brushing off her armor. “I just don’t like it. I’m…not used to it. I like being…” She taps her chin. “Independent? Anyway what am I wearing?” 

Lori points at a broken crate. “One of my dresses. Maids aren’t expected to look good, as they’re just…servants. A simple dress will be fine.”

“I’m a lot taller then you though…” Miri mumbles, kicking a random piece of scrap.

“And about half as mature.” She counters with a hiss. 

“Despite being older.” Zura adds with that lopsided grin of his. 

Miri steeples her fingers behind her head. “Not the point. Is it going to fit me?”

Lori giggles. “Oh sure!” A wicked grin blossoms on her face. “You might be a little chilly though…” 

She sticks out her tongue I response. “Fine! Why are we robbing a brothel anyway?”

“The empress just payed a visit. And quite frankly they’re too busy bragging about it to realize someone might rob them.”

Lori pats a rusty chair in front of her. “We’d better snatch their money before they spend it all on celebrating if we ever wanna leave this horrible place.”

Miri sits down on the chair, chewing her lip. 

“Alright, I’m no fleshshaper. But I have been practicing! No one’s gonna recognize you after I’m done.” Lori winks, moving her brush over Miri’s cheeks. “Except for your mother maybe.”

”No. She wouldn’t.” She whispers, then closes her eyes to let Lori do her work.

                                                                                                                   ****

“There! Isn’t she lovely? And unrecognizable.” Lori whispers, holding her head high. 

“It’ll do. I still don’t understand how this shadow-makeup works.” Zura says, adding the final touches to their plan on the map. 

“Well, how does a Duskborn erase memories? How do they wear someone’s shadow and become them? Nobody actually understands how, it’s just the way it is.”

Miri studies her reflection, gazing in the eyes of a stranger, still. “They don’t. Erase memories, I mean. They conceal a memory in shadow. It’s still there, but you can’t find it. Skilled Duskborn can even obscure specific parts of a memory, distorting it for their own ends.” She gazes away, surveying the overcast city encased in fog and rain. 

“Your shadow is an extension of you, your soul. A Duskborn can take it, and wear it like you would any piece of clothing. Unlike Sirenborn they’re not limited to something close to their own shape, lest they endanger themselves, and without a matching scent. And Unlike Faeborn touch will not give them away, and they can hear the inner voice of their…disguise. The only thing that clues you in, is their lack of a shadow.” 

Miri rises, strolling over to the edge of the tower and sits down on it. “Good luck catching a Twiceborn of Dusk and Fae though. If they’re clever enough they can fake having a shadow. It’s not perfect of course…but who really pays attention to the shadows?”

Zura and Lori share a look of worry, and almost…fear. 

“How do you know that stuff?” 

“It’s like you said Lori,” She releases a long, deep breath. “I’m older than you.”

She stayed there for a while. Thinking back to a time long since past, her childhood. There was no smile on her lips, no glimmer in her eyes. No joy in her voice. Just sorrow, hiding in her eyes. 

“Anyway!” Miri pipes, plastering a smile on her face. “Why don’t I put on that dress and we can go? You can tell me the plan on our way there.”

                                                                                                                 ****

“This is a terrible plan and I hate it.” Miri grumbles. 

“Too bad! This is what we’ve got.” Zura fumes. “I didn’t hear you coming up with any better ideas.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m supposed to walk by several ironguards, hope both of them are new units so they don’t recognize me even in my disguise. And then charm my way past a bouncer and then hope my cover isn’t blown cause I’m not a maid and THEN-“

“Alright, alright! I think we get it you’re not happy with the plan.” Lori scrunches her nose. “At least you’re not forced to pretend to be a stable girl mucking out horses.”

“Or a cleaning boy.” Zura kicks a rock into the road. 

She fixes them with a flat stare. “Point taken.” 

The group strolls up to the brothel’s entrance. 

“Ooo.” Miri cooes, gazing on the narrow archway, and the beautiful oak doors engraved with dancing figures of every size and shape. It was a surprisingly large structure, compared to the other brothels and taverns Miri had seen, if only on the outside. 

She frowned. Was it a manor or just a intricately built cafe? Maybe even a repurposed hotel. Between the light colored stones and the dozens of open bay windows decorated with screens and thin silky curtains, a characteristic of most opulent structures in Arivel, it was hard for her to tell. 

Miri noted the four dark brown gazebos on top of the building. From how pretty the stone and bricks looked, and how the glass was embellished with mesmerizing swirling and curvy patterns she guessed that were the vip quarters. Not much further away she recalled, was the treasury. 

She bit her lip, wondering just what was going on…behind those windows. 

“Are you done gawking?” Zura elbows her shoulder. 

“Hmm? Oh yea!”

“Break a leg!” Lori chirps, pushing her towards the entrance. “We’ll be waiting for the signal. Or at the vault if you take too long.”

Miri’s lips part. “Wait, what’s the signal agai-“

“-Welcome to the House Of Mania. State your name, rank, and intention.” A surprisingly friendly, if a little off sounding girl’s voice trilled. 

“Eh?” She looked at the source, finding herself staring right at a ironguard.

“Oh…I’m…Hey! what’s my name again?” Miri shouts over her shoulder, but to her dismay, no one was there.

“Shit-“

“Invalid name. Please regain your composure and try again, miss.” 

She bats her eyes, then fights off a scowl. The machine sounded too happy, too cheerful.

“Uhhhh…Aaaaa…Rrrrr…y…aaa?”

“Invalid name-“

“Fuck you.” Miri sneers. 

“Invalid name-“

She grunts, stomping her foot. “I’m…I’m Ariea.” Regret instantly crosses her face. “Wow that’s a terrible name isn’t it…”

“Rank and intention please.”

“I’m a Maid. And my intention is…fun?”

“Invalid intention. Please try again, but note that if you do not pass in two tries you will be neutralized or captured as in accordance with imperial law.” The machine chirps.

“Fine. I’m here to work for Madam Valerisa.”

“Accepted. Permit?”

Miri fishes a clean piece of paper from her dress pocket and holds it up.

“You’re good to go…ma’am. Error, unable to catalog age. Please state your age.”

She clenches her teeth. “I’m seventeen.” 

The machine creaks and screeches, as if it’s mind was overwhelmed. “Error. Unable to verify.” 

“Fuck you, again. Good day!” Miri seethes, brushing past the useless mechanical guard. 

Her feet touch the red, satiny carpet. It was impossibly soft, like walking on a fluffy cloud.

She takes in the scenery around her, mostly looking for exists and entryways.

But still, she can’t help but notice all the colorful flora growing in the main hall. Without pots and planters! She even spotted a few roses entangled over chairs. Despite that however, the flowers weren’t growing wildly. They seemed…orderly and tame. Content with simply growing from the roof, windows and even the floor. 

“Sylvari craftsmanship? Here?” Miri whispers. 

The furniture however, was a classic hallmark of Lisari work. Warm metallic colors for the tables and fleecy fabrics for the perfectly proportioned wooden chairs, probably made from luxurious materials like silk, satin or even harpy feathers. 

The place was intricately, and to Miri, almost painfully organized. A mirror of the Lisari people. She spies a pair of butterflies fluttering around, a spark of chaos in this place of order. A reflection, still.

Her eyes are drawn to the many privacy screens strewn about the brothel. She tilts her head, wondering why even those were so decorated with vivid colors and images of folks dancing and singing. 

“You there! Why in the emperor’s divine graces aren’t you WORKING?!” A harsh voice shrieks in her ears. 

“Have I gone deaf?” Miri half says-half shouts.

“Ohhhh, another funny one i see.” The nasty hag grabs her arm, digging her nails. “Get to work, girl. Or I’ll whip you senseless.” Madam Valerisa throws her back, before sauntering off with her head held to the heavens. 

Miri quietly sticks out her tongue at the witch-bitch, then ducks inside a room.

She rests her back against the door, pulling a golden but broken compass from her pocket. 

“Alright little compass, tell me about this place.”

The compass spins around madly, before settling in a blink. 

“The girls don’t like this new madam. She’s cruel and unkind. Not like the last one, they still wonder what happened to her.” The compass speaks In her voice, but in a eerily calm tone, almost without emotion. 

Miri sighs. “I knew that already.” She squeezes the objet and gently taps it. “What else?”

“There was a bird. But it was wrong. It frightened the girls and scared away customers, it pecked one man, a duke, in his chest. He was never seen again, after sundown. Neither was the bird. Now his eleven year old daughter rules over the fate of so many…” 

She furrows her brows, then shakes her head, squeezing the compass once again.

“The brothel knows many secrets. Secrets that will buy their survival for centuries. But they will buy their own undoing. Some secrets that they have hidden away are yours, or are they hers now? It is so difficult to tell…”

Miri scowls, hitting the compass. “Don’t sass me. Just tell me what I need to know Damnit!”

“The madam is worried. Her best girls are supposed to entertain an important guest, a king from a far away land. A bastard king. A king from a land who has resisted Lisari power when no others have. But is he truly a king? Was he ever? I only know his heart is torn between two selves. Between good intended evil, and a prison built on walls of pain.” 

 She impatiently taps on the compass. “Get. To. The point!”

“In her anxiety, the madam misplaced her key. And most of the guards are still drunk. She wondered if she dropped it in her bedroom, but has no time to check. She considers docking the pay of the hungover guards if the day does not go well.”

“Bedroom, got it. And kick the madam in her unmentionables if I ever see her again.” 

She opens the door, looking right at Madam Valerisa.

“Perfect!” Miri smirks. “What is the-“ then kicks the sneering woman in her lady parts. “Eat shit!” She blows her a raspberry and dashes off to look for her bedroom. 

She throws open door after door with reckless abandon. 

Probably not the best idea in a place like this, as she’d soon find out. 

“Sorry!” Miri squeaks to the screaming ladies. “I didn’t know this was the changing room!” She slams the door shut. “Sorry! Again…didn’t mean to slam the door…” 

“There she is!” A group of guard spots her and charge her like a herd of angry steam-trains. 

“Oh, fucking hells.” Miri darts up a flight of stairs, until she face-plants straight into a dark wooden door. 

“Who put a door here?!” She kicks it and clutches her nose. Ow…fuck..” Miri hurries inside and unleashes chaotic hell on the madam’s bedroom, turning the place upside down like a human tornado. 

“Where is that bloody key?! No. Wait!” She freezes, scratching a cheek. “If I was a key dropped by Madam Shit-face…Where would I be…” 

She checks under her prissy vanity table and snatches the key. “There you are!” 

“There you are!” A guard repeated. “Surrender, delinquent. You’re surrounded.”

“No,” Miri says, badly mimicking the tone of a sagely old man. “I don’t think I will.” She twirls the key in her hand, patiently waiting. 

The guards stomp closer to her, reaching for her. “Uhhhh-“

She frantically shakes her head. “Ummm…” Cold sweat travels down her forehead. “Anytime now…”

The men groan and fall to their feet, snoring like rumbling mountains. 

“Okay!” She chirps, bowing to the napping guards. “Thank you, Zura. Even if you were a little late with your alchemy..”

Miri skips out the room, bumping into a lady. “Oh…hi.” 

The lady looks her up and down, biting her lip. “Well hello there.” She purrs. “What are you doing here?”

“I uh ummm…wh…uh…” She stammers, her heart drumming in her chest. “I was…ummmm…fuck?” Miri blurts.

“If you want…I think I’ll even give you a discount. If you can knock out a bunch of guards like that you must be worthy of it…” The lady says, stroking her hair. “I’m Mialine.”

Miri’s face pales like a actor struck by stage fright. “No! No fuck!” She waves her hands around hysterically. “I go! I go now!” She nearly falls over a guard on her way out. “Bye!” 

Miri hastens to the central staircase, running like someone had set a fire under her arse. She stumbles on the last step, falling face-first into her friends with a loud thump. They hastily snatch the key from her shove it into the keyhole of the vault. Tension lingers in the air to the sound of gears as Zura turns the key.

“Well, thanks…Not like there was someone more precious than the key on th-oh wow…”

Miri is cut short as the vault of polished jade, shining sapphire, and golden gold coins spill out into the light. She piles them into her bag like a hideously grotesque man reaching for more, amazed at the feel of wealth at her fingertips. For a moment, she considers swinging the lustrous bag into her friends and taking all the wealth for herself. 

“Come on Miri! We have to go!” Zura yells. “Now, come on!!” 

Miri shakes her head, shutting out the horrid thought, she wasn’t like that anyway more! And Zura was right, the sound of the drumming of footsteps running up the stairs and commotion through the house. She heaves her bag up to her shoulder, taking the fastest steps she could to muster out the window. Like a startled cat, she tumbled into an awkward slide down the shingles of the roof, landing no less gracefully than a freshly fallen turd onto the bed Lori had set to complete the escape. The equivalent of hundreds maybe thousands of Rogia spilled out of Miri’s bag, gleaming in the twilight. Lori was entranced by the sight too, longingly rubbing her thumb over the worn edges of a gold rioga before it had to be hidden in the sack. She points to a small shed between the house and the road. 

“That’s our escape. I’ve put our horse there. Luckily not those mechanical ones…”

Miri shudders at the thought of the wheezing, greasy mechanical horses who pounded their way through the streets. She had once seen a starving child nearly get run over by one. The echo of steam-powered legs marching down the streets rang in her ears, not to mention the mess of oil occasionally leaking out of the creature stank for weeks.

Zura fell, with much more gracefully than either Lori or Miri, into the group a few moments after Miri’s descent. The group swiftly dashes away from the house as people started clambering through the window. Miri turned back to them, sticking out her tongue and pulling down her eyelid just to taunt them even more.

“Get got, assholes! Blegh!” She pulls silly face after silly face as they make their escape.

Lori laughs along with Miri. Even Zura let out a small giggle as they run into the shed. Together, they pushed open the door, each mounting a horse and dashing away with the goods. Within a few minutes, they were home free.