Roasting meats on rickety carts fill the souk with the mouth-watering scent of marinated lamb, the flat bread the locals wrap it in enticing as it’s rolled and stuffed with spring onions and tomatoes and more than one person’s fair share of RICHLY seasoned slivers. Lara’s stomach regrets every inhale as she’s forced to dart between one cart and another, blocking out the sound of trampled wood and foreigns curses behind her, and focusing only on the steady bounce against her thigh. The golden artefact burns through the fabric of her cargos, the weight reassuring, though anxiety burns like stomach acid in her throat.
Ducking behind a wooden crate, she waits for her pursuers to pass by before scampering up its side and onto the top. A swear immediately leaves her lips. She’s SPOTTED! “ Damn, ” she huffs, starting to run again.
A drop into what at first glance appears to be a deserted alley sends her stumbling into another girl –– one as frantic as Lara is. A brief look over her shoulder tells her why. “ Damn, ” she repeats, heart thud.thud.thudding. like a giant’s lumbering footsteps in her chest. Dread floods her veins. They have to get out of there! “ Come on! ” She hurries the girl. There’s a rusted vent in the corner of one building. A sharp elbow jab might do the job. If not, they’re screwed.
&. @storybookishh for LARA & ADA.
Move. Move. Move. Its a mantra in her mind screaming over the shouts that follow behind her, keep going don’t stop. You stop and you die or you rot in a jail cell. She was proud to say that she’d never been caught, minor offenses once when she was younger -- but since then she’d been cautious. Careful where she placed her head for the night and wary about whose bread she took, every moment was well thought out just to keep her head from rolling. Timing is everything, a great staple to believe in for a thief or a con artist -- and somehow even the most careful can be caught and blindsided by another who was also watching. He’d seen her, watched her from the very moment her fingertips trailed across the rough wooden table and tapped along the gold pence. To the last second before the bag was slipped beneath her corset and a feverish kiss was left upon the lips of the man she’d swindled, but his friend was a snake.
A vile snake that flicked his tongue and saw the open wound to latch onto, and he’d done just that. Halfway out the door before his sly remark emerged in the air freezing her in her steps, ‘ Jorge you still owe me eight pence. ‘ It’d erupted like that of a geyser releasing itself, a chorus of deep bellows carrying after her as she darted beyond the threshold and into the throng of the crowds.
Slipping between bodies and moving as fast as her feet would carry her, a gift she’d gained from birth kept her faster than them. Legs toned moved her quickly attention everywhere all at once trying to keep track of their patterns and how they so desperate they were to catch her,owed eight pence -- what was the loss of 500! She’s light on her feet, bounding through alleyways and trying her damnedest to keep ahead -- and all the while her mind is focused on the shouts behind her does she slip and collide with another girl. Bodies fumbling to the ground in a splay of limbs and dust, but neither stop. On her feet she is gaze darting to look at the other without hesitation and following suit, her lungs daring to burst and heart screaming in her chest. A plan formulating in her head as they moved, is escape wasn't possible they’d have to fight. She knew she was more than capable of taking on four of them by herself, but by the sound of their pursuers there were more joining the hunt. Words are chopped and short as they draw closer to the vent, already dropping to a crouch she barks. “ Get up there now! “
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