When it was nearing midnight and the estate was fast asleep, Einin--or Owl, as she would be known tonight--lifted a floorboard beneath her bed, traded her nightgown for breeches, boots, and a tunic, and donned her cloak and mask. She fetched her sword from her wardrobe and buckled her sheath to her belt, and then she was ready. Once she was finished tying her hair back into a messy tail, just one final touch remained.
Glancing in her mirror, she passed her hand over her face and worked her magic, pink hair and eyes darkening to a mousy brown. She smiled at her handiwork and flicked one of the feathered "horns" of her owl mask so it stood up properly.
Ready to go! Oh, just one final final touch.
She stuffed her sheets with pillows until it looked like a proper body that was her shape, more or less. Then, opening her window quietly, she began the process of climbing down.
Good thing her room was only on the second floor, and the building was old and made of stone with plenty of handholds.
As she had done many nights before, she sneaked off her parents' property and into the city proper. Not much was open this time of night, which was a shame, because it was the only time she could get away with something like this. Her parents didn't let her leave the estate without supervision during the day, much less come to the more "colorful" parts of the city. Talking to commoners? Visiting taverns? Utterly absurd and definitely not! And this? Well, they'd likely skin her alive if they knew. And never mind her dreams of acting. That was a definite no.
She wouldn't have time to entertain the notion anyway, they said, once she was married and had an estate of her own to run.
Never mind the children.
Ugh. Well, that was a problem for later.
Empty streets or not, she'd take what she could get. Some taverns were open this late and she'd come to find out she was somewhat decent at games of chance.
But what she was even better at was knocking heads.
She was heading down an alley toward a tavern she'd taken to visiting now and then, a muffled cry rang out, and then the sounds of hushed voices. Hand on her sword, Owl picked up her pace and turned a corner--to find a group of men surrounding a figure she couldn't make out, knives out and postures threatening.
"Aww, for me? How'd ya know I needed the coin?" one man jeered, coin purse in hand. "Now let's see...what else ya give us?"
Owl had seen enough.
She stepped out into the open and drew her sword with a hiss of steel and a dramatic flourish of her cloak.
"Unhand them at once!" she demanded in a strong, booming voice that had taken her much time practicing before a mirror to master. It helped that the alley provided a nice echo effect.
Thank you, alley!