S I N F U L

xclandestin

She wasn’t in the chantry on any religious pretext. Far from it, in fact. She was here to set up a ‘meeting’ of sorts with another smuggler. If all went well, she could net enough sovereigns to hopefully return home in triumph. So, she sat in the pew, hood down, but no way removing her mask. She didn’t even notice the presence of the other, her focus drawn mostly to the brazer and where the people are signing some fuddy little song or whatever they’re doing. 

            Leliana had thought that she had contacted an acclaimed smuggler of sorts, name known throughout the underworld. -- ( that's the one, she's pricey, but she's worth it, I swear -- someone had told her as he looked away from the blade resting on his throat ) -- Which is why the spymaster seemed less than impressed when the other had not noticed her. Perhaps she was drunk on the atmosphere, the bard had pondered. Nonetheless, she slid onto the seat behind the other. "I'm glad that you didn't get lost on your way here. A shame it would be if you did, hm?"