A small frown pulled at her eyebrows as she spotted the menacing glint of Simon's dagger. Then came a surprise stab in the chest, a thud of the body, and everything turned awful quick. Panicked like a startled deer, the half-elf glanced toward the windows as the night erupted with lights, then to the door as the thud of boots rushed closer. And finally, she looked Simon's way as her feet started toward the pooling blood. The madman had grabbed the stolen loot and jumped right into the canal. A death trap for sure. With countless frenzied thoughts racing through her head, the brunette gave the body a split-second scrutiny.

Despite the dim light, something twinkled on the half-orc's belt. Dainty fingers quickly undid the dying thief's belt buckle, gripping the leather, and stripping it and all its attachments in one swift yank. Cas slung the belt over her shoulder as Simon made his escape, letting her know the plan had gone out the window and she needed to flee the scene – and fast!

A pounce over to the closest crate gave the brunette a slight head-start on her climb back up, providing her with an increased height from which she threw herself up the dangling rope. Up and up she went, one hand after another, she snaked up with such speed even an experienced acrobat would have to acknowledge her skill. Fear hastened her climb. Panic, even, spasming through her entire body. Common knowledge said anyone found down there alongside the body would hang the following noon and Caslawen's survivor instinct fought tooth and nail to get the half-elf as far away from the crime scene as humanly possible.

Blood spelled trouble, as it invited more thorough investigations than ordinary burglaries, and these in turn meant increased patrols in the streets. After tonight, the building would be turned into an impregnable fortress closely watched over by both the factory workers and the local guards.

The door burst open just as Cas pulled herself up the same way she had entered. A brief pause in her escape came when she stopped mid-motion and cast a glance back toward the rope still tied to the railing. Alas, there was no time to retrieve it or pull it up. Fixing her sight straight ahead, Cas broke into a sprint and made the first jump with ease, every fiber of her body pumped with adrenaline. With no loot except the dead thief's belt to weigh her down, she raced the wind across the rooftops, completely foregoing caution or stealth until she knew for certain any potential pursuers had been lost multiple rooftops ago.

Cold sweat dripped down her brow and she panted heavily. At ease, taking deep, yet ragged breaths, she crept across the rooftops the way she remembered; back to the tavern. The young thief did not even entertain the idea of her new 'mentor' miraculously surviving his suicidal jump into the raging waters of the mill canals.

What a waste of loot.

With that in mind, she retrieved the leather belt from her shoulder. Upon it shined a set of lockpicks, a valuable friend if she ever learned how to use it. And a jagged, scary-looking dagger. Cas had attached all the items to her own belt and tossed the looted one away.

Once the thief's slender figure made it all the way down via the stables, she headed straight for the inn through the back entrance. The spot she had left empty had remained unoccupied, though the untouched mug of ale served as a reminder even the most experienced thief could kick the bucket during the most routine of gigs.

"No, don't touch that!"

"Put that bottle down!"

"Don't touch that plate, come back here! Come back here!"

"Go right, left, no no, that's the ballroom!"

"It's too sweet, this wine is too sweet, pour me another one, not that one, the other one!"

Cas soon understood why she had never stuck with an honest job. Every servant from the lowest janitor to the personal butler had their plate full and the moment they started their required task, a commanding voice called upon them to do something else on the other side of the mansion. It was complete chaos, but such an environment fostered opportunity for those with grabby hands.

Every now and then a piece of silver cutlery or even a coin purse carelessly dangling on the belt of a guest disappeared within the hem of her long skirt. Said items were disposed of within one of the trash bins, from which they would be dumped outside with other garbage. The half-elf knew all too well all servants and helping hands would be thoroughly checked at the end of the night for possession of ill-gotten items.

The long skirt had also managed to disguise her filthy boots tapping over the polished stone and digging into the lush carpets as she casually strolled among the guests, her step silent, unheard, unlike the terrible click-clacking shoes of others.

Her goal was the upper floor, if only because access there had been restricted. During the pretense of performing her maidly duties, Cas had observed the posh surroundings with the experienced sight of a thief. Chimneys, crawl spaces, dumbwaiters – all convenient ways up without the need to use the tightly guarded stairs.

She only needed to find the right path and the right moment to slip away unnoticed.

And then her crimson eyes spied a short, familiar figure. Quickly, the false maid seized one of the plates full of glasses bubbling with champagne and carried it over to the short bard.

"Ah, sir Rowan!" The half-elf called enthusiastically as she strolled from behind. "Are you having a good time, sir? Would you like a drink?"

Cas bent in the knees slightly and lowered the tray to allow Rowan to grab a glass.

Simon's words rang true, and with a saner, less child-like mind, they might have succeeded. Akayuki playfully rolled her eyes but kept a soft smile on her features as she observed her new zombie friend. All the power of undeath in the universe was hers to command. The Mordecai possessed an ability to nullify that power – and for that very reason she wanted to get close to them, if only to plant a proverbial dagger in their back.

"But where's the fun in that, Simon?" The devious little lich inquired with an impish smile. "I can hide in plain sight. Make Connlaoth rot from the inside. Win the trust of my greatest enemies and learn everything I can about them. Find their weaknesses. Sow discord among their ranks. And watch them all die."

The last words came out as a whisper, a promise of things to come.

She raised a hand, palm open, and held it out in front of her. Simply watching it provided no answer to whatever questions raced through her little head. The palm of her hand was incredibly soft and smooth as if never exposed to the strain of physical labor. She brought it closer to her face, scrutinizing it with her big scarlet eyes. There wasn't an ounce of physical strength in her body, she had no muscle and everyone towered high above her small, underdeveloped figure. She was undeniably just a child in every sense of the word.

Then how come she wielded such terrifying, monstrous powers over death and a prophecy had declared her the dark destroyer of the world? Akayuki never quite understood how she, of all people, had earned such terrible power. Slowly, she turned her hand, still inspecting it with some sort of morbid fascination only she understood. Undeniably she had won the greatest lottery in the world, being born as the dark messiah destined to turn the world upside down. With just a gesture and an incantation, she could fry the living with her lightning, tear them apart, drink their souls, and raise their bodies as deathless warriors.

Finally, clenching her pale hand into a fist, Akayuki felt a sneer widen on her face and turned to Simon again.

"Because I have the power to do so. It is my destiny." She added with uncharacteristic maturity in her voice.

She liked it. She liked it a lot.

Akayuki's index finger tapped her lips and she closed her eyes in thought.

"Yeeees... good idea! Let's go with that! Find a childless, older noble and melt my way into his heart." The littlest necromancer giggled and nodded in approval as her face adopted a serious expression and her eyes fluttered open. "Ah, very fitting for me to join the ranks of nobility."

And off her mind went, weaving overly complicated plots to achieve the goal, and still considering the grave threat of the Mordecai.

"Even if the Mordecais seize me and drag me away, I heard they only scold kids like me." She revealed with a devious little smile.

A little scolding had never killed anyone. And it had never stopped the great, apocalyptic evil either. So Akayuki considered herself pretty safe. The same did not go for her possible undead underlings, but whatever, she could always make new undead friends.

"Magic baaaaaaad! Ansgar gooooood!" Akayuki parodied and stuck out her tongue playfully. Still in levitation, the white-haired child started a mock dance above ground, complete with an intentionally silly tune and song.

"Good mages always follow the will of Ansgar!
Be a good mage! Don't use magic, it's bad!
Bad mages use magic as they please and disobey God!
Bad mages get punished!
Be a good mage to avoid punishment~"

Akayuki evidently had a bone to pick with Ansgar and his faithful.

A curse escaped under her breath as she watched the light flicker and the occasional shadow pass over. Someone had beaten them to their score. A questioning glance was cast toward Simon and Cas stilled her breath. The dark room full of shadows made for a perfect ambush spot. Whoever was currently looting the office under the candlelight had to come out, into the darkness eventually.

Cas' and Simon's eyesight had already adjusted to the shadows and the element of surprise was on their side. A few well-aimed kicks and punches, followed by a quick scurry, and the thieving duo would be gone with another gang's bounty. There was no doubt in her mind the fight inside would be heard and the guards stationed outside would rush in, only to find a disoriented scoundrel or two who would serve as sacrificial lambs to the long arm of the law. 

A tempting idea.

In a normal situation and alone, Caslawen would have turned tail and fled the scene. She was a sneak thief, not a fighter. A physical confrontation spelled possible injury or worse and therefore had to be avoided. The current predicament was far from normal though. Given Simon's borderline miraculous physical feats, the teenage thief felt she didn't need to worry about losing any potential scuffle.

"Wanna ambush and beat them up here and leave them to take the blame for the break-in? Or tail them to their hideout?" The half-elven brunette said in a half-audible whisper and pressed her back against the unyielding side of the crate.

"Maniac, damn sorcery what you're doin'," the half-elf pushed through her gritted teeth as her mentor dropped into the fall below without hesitation. This solidified her opinion of Simon having possession of some sort of potion or magical item that made him pull off the incredible stunts. The thought of having such an item herself clouded the brunette's mind with envy and greed.

Somewhat distracted, the thief tied the rope to the railing and coiled some of it around her hands, gripping it tightly before her legs went over the edge and down below. The elven heritage came in handy again. Cas' low-light sight allowed the young thief to peer through the shadows, discern shapes, and avoid crashing into a stack of crates and sacks piled up right next to her. A quick, yet thorough look for any guards, present or approaching, and upon finding none, the half-elf roped down further until the tips of her boots touched solid ground.

The floor was made of solid stone, eliminating the threat of creaky floorboards. Good. Cas slipped behind the large crates, knife in hand. As she had done with the window, she forced one of the crates open. Disappointment pulled down her eyebrows as the wooden crate contained lots of straw and among it metal gears of various shapes and sizes. Glancing at Simon over her shoulder, Caslawen closed the crate and spied the far end of the dark room. A door. The flickering light of a flame danced through the crack under its sturdy wooden frame.

Cas' breath stilled and she dropped into a crouch, eyes on the door in case anyone entered. Her lithe body remained close to the large crates, every muscle in her legs ready to dash into cover should the need arise.

"First off; Mistress! Address me as mistress! I may not be big enough be a lady, but I am strong enough to be a mistress of life and death!" Akayuki established and pushed an imaginary pair of glasses up the ridge of her nose, trying to sound formal and educated to make herself look smarter.

It was very important to appear smart.

The white-haired lich went on to explain her plan, floating back and forth as she did. "I want a fortress! But if I take one, the Mordecais will come and smash all my toys! Again! That is why I won't be making an army. Besides, any graveyard or battlefield can give me an army if needed. But I do want—no, I need a fortress of my own. I am a bit homeless right now and it's most shameful for someone of my stature."

So embarrassed she was by admitting this her undead cheeks turned rosy. Akayuki hoped Simon would not notice and so quickly unveiled the sinister plot she had harbored inside her head for the longest time.

"My brilliant and ingenious plan is to create a plague that will kill everyone and raise them as perfectly preserved, intelligent undead! This world and the next will become one! No more hunger, no more pain, no more suffering! Just peaceful undeath in which all can hold hands and be perfectly happy forever and ever!"

With the sweetest of smiles, Akayuki grasped her hands together and formed a heart shape with her fingers.

"Or, or! I could kill all kings and queens and immediately bring them back to life as my undead slaves! New laws to allow necromancy and make undeath a socially acceptable state of being! No more would the dead be oppressed by the living!"

She spun dramatically and threw her arms out, face ecstatic.

Although a gleeful sadist by nature, Akayuki had found herself incredibly offended by Simon's sudden screams. Her diabolical brain, too brilliant for this world, had not considered the possibility of putting the zombie through infernal agony. Even as she watched him, she did not comprehend the reason behind his antics. A frown darkened her face.

"Ah, yes, typical. Scream your lungs out." Akayuki shook her white-haired head and rolled her eyes. "No gratitude, I swear," she rumbled, almost sadly, her soft voice drowned in the screams. And it went on and on and on with no end in sight. Somewhat nervous by the prolonged display before her, she took a glance in every direction as if in search of the perpetrator behind Simon's state.

"Here I am, rewarding you, yet do you raise up your arms and praise Akayuki as sensations return to your undead flesh? Nay! You wail and scream--most ungrateful!"

A glimmer of anger came over Akayuki's gentle features. If he wanted to scream, she could always give him a good reason now that his ability to feel pain had returned. A nervous twitch in her fingers gave away she was not far from turning her thoughts to reality.

"Seriously, dude! Cease the theatrics! Who's hurting you? Nobody's doing anything to you! I didn't even touch you; you can't blame anything on me. Nuh-uh!" the littlest necromancer yelled at Simon and shook her head vigorously as he writhed in unspeakable agony.

The red eyes of hers continued to watch as he slowly calmed down and made up for his lack of proper etiquette by kneeling before her. The little lich puffed her cheeks, finally receiving the validation and acknowledgment she deserved. It took him long enough! For a moment the child did nothing and merely observed him.

"From now on...," her voice trailed off as her mind came up blank with what she should have him do. "You will have the honor of carrying me on your back. And follow my every command. And you will hate the Mordecais as much as I do because they hate me and they hate you too and they hate everyone because they are hateful--bad people. And together, we shall take over the world!"

An idea crossed her mind.

"But first..."

Two childish hands reached out toward him, opening and closing excitedly. She stared right at Simon with a smile slapped right across her face.

"Hug Akayuki! Hug hug hug~!"

More than enough to cover his travel expenses.

A priceless piece of information for those who made a living by taking what they needed from others.

The young half-elf felt her muscles flex and a fresh dose of adrenaline course in her veins. A hand opened, ready to make a grabbing motion and retreat. But it stayed. The promise of coins sang to Caslawen's mind and only her sense of caution prevented her from reaching toward the satchel on his person as he got up and turned around.

"See you at the party, sir Rowan!" 'Eleanor' waved back with a thick smile, which she dropped the moment he turned around. Her scarlet eyes nonchalantly turned to the coins so carelessly discarded and left all alone. Finders keepers, right? A hand snaked over the bar and the tip meant for the barkeep vanished within one of Caslawen's numerous concealed pouches.

The half-elven thief trotted inside her room at the inn. On the terribly uncomfortable bed laid the pristine maid outfit donned by servants. Caslawen changed into it, throwing her leather garb on the bed, albeit not before hiding all of her savings under a loose floorboard. 

Being a thief did not prevent one from getting robbed when away. 

Inside the clothes, the half-elf packed the necessary papers to prove her forged identity. She fluffed up her hair, straightened her posture, and put on an innocent smile.

Eleanor was born and had a party to attend.

One easy jump later and Caslawen stood atop the mill, her prize now positioned somewhere below. Cas' lithe body crouched and she inspected one window after another. A thick layer of dust shamelessly sat on each, indicating poor maintenance just like she had predicted. The locks withered away under a rusty coat, their inner mechanism destroyed. The girl rubbed some of the dust away with her forearm and peered in. The dirty glass left much to imagination, but little to no light could be seen inside the mill.

A poke of her knife into the lock proved enough to shatter the frail insides and cause the ill-maintained device to snap off. When her hand grabbed the window pane by the frame and tugged at it, nothing happened. It was heavy, possibly a bit rusty also.

The half-elf thief traced along the frame with the edge of her knife in search of an opening. When the knife slid in, she pushed it further, praying the dull grating whine did not alert anyone below. A pull at the knife's handle and the heavy frame finally budged. The teenager cast a look over her shoulder and nodded toward the other side of the window, motioning for Simon to grab the other end.

And the petite thief pushed, pushed hard, feeling her muscles cry out, and managed to overcome the weight to open the window, immediately able to sense as the warmer air from the inside kissed her skin.

"Hmph. Acceptable." The Terrible Young Lich nodded in approval and took the doll in her small, frail hands. A heartfelt hug followed.

With no warning and for seemingly no reason, Akayuki threw the doll up into the air, as high as her painfully short arms managed.

Two fingers pointed in the doll's general direction and a sudden blast of lightning cut through the air and tore the toy into countless pieces.

"She deserved a proper sendoff," Akayuki explained as the smoking pieces of the old toy descended all around them. "I didn't have the heart to discard her all torn. Alas, this was bound to happen. I am several hundred years too old for dolls."

Old, useless things had to be discarded to make way for the new. With that sentiment in mind, she turned to Simon.

"Now, for your 'reward'..." the child stated ominously and cast a grin half mischievous, half sinister. Akayuki rose above the ground, levitating high enough to make her taller than Simon, and the terrible power within her swelled.

Her hair and clothing fluttered and floated as though caught in water. The skies darkened as if on command. Bolts of electricity coiled around her arms like snakes and crackled. The deep crimson of her eyes glowed with the power of darkness. Her madness, or at least partial perversion, seemed beyond dispute.

"Oh, I am afraid your days as an unfeeling zombie are over, poor Simon! Now, you shall witness what true power is like!" The evil grin grew wider and her voice sank rather than mounted.

"Ah, poor Simon, the demon power once in charge of your body isn't going to kill you, hehehe..." she started to giggle, and then the terrible sound of her high-pitched villainous laughter filled the forest. "MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The lightning around her arms dissipated, the skies brightened, and the white-haired terror ceased laughing, now merely grinning.

"And neither will I! But I'm gonna reward you by returning sensations into your body, so you better prepare."

She did not give him any time to prepare. A simple motion of her finger and every single feeling returned to Simon's undead shell, a white-hot explosion of infinity as the long-dead nerves suddenly switched on and screamed in agony. Akayuki, in a typical Akayuki fashion, paid his discomfort no heed and raised her arms high above her head instead.

"Praised be Akayuki, future undead god-empress of this world and the next, Cutest Lich of all Time, Infinitely Merciful Red Moon, Mistress of the Dark, Mistress of Death, Dark Lord of all Unlife, Daughter of Demons, Dark Messiah, Icon of Eternity, Bearer of Ancient Wisdom, Oldest Enjoyer of Sweets, Bestest Villain Ever Conceived, Timeless Threat to all Living, Snow Red the Deathless,...

"I am Eleanor, good sir," the half-elf lied without a single treacherous twitch in her face. A non-elven name, picked for that very purpose; domesticated half-elves usually called themselves human names to better blend into human society. "Forgive my lack of proper attire. Tonight is an important event and I cannot risk it getting sullied."

At that moment, the young scoundrel had turned into an actress, and the whole interaction into a rehearsal of the role she intended to play later. 'Eleanor' bent in the knees and bowed her head, then grasped the nonexistent skirt in between her fingers and held it out from her body in a curtsy. A proud smile brightened in her expression, for she had practiced the motion a hundred times. As far as introductions went, she was able to nail the part.

In a daring move, she moved to the stool, swiping the large hat and planting it on top of her head as she perched herself atop the chair. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she observed the halfling opposite of her.

"Such a strange hat! Are you from far away, sir Rowan?" 'Eleanor' questioned and leaned closer to him from her seat, her voice a conspiratory whisper. "Did lord Virias pay for your trip? I heard he invited the best of the best to make an impression and become a real noble!"

She cast a sideways glance at each side as if to see if nobody listened.

"I am not one for rumors, but have you heard about the blackmail letter lord Virias supposedly keeps someplace in his mansion?"

Her hearing had proven to be excellent and Cas smirked under her breath.

A short, almost child-sized man, perhaps a halfling, had entered the tavern and asked for a glass at the bar. Caslawen's eyes instinctively inspected the massive hat, too large for such a small person, a glimmer of greed twinkling beneath her scarlet orbs. Upon confirmation that he, indeed, was the source of the clinking coin, the teenage thief scrutinized his apparel and mentally guessed the man's station and wealth. As she did so, a semi-clean glass of good ale thudded before the bard, the barkeep not uttering a word as he pocketed the coin and went after his business again, disappearing behind the door reserved for staff.

The queer apparel he donned, most noticeably the excessively large hat, suggested the halfling's destination to be the masquerade. A bold choice. The well-taken-care of violin on his back said he had been hired to entertain the rich people there. And being hired by rich people equaled good profits, good profits meant lots of coin stuffed in the purse, and a heavy purse invited pickpockets like the half-elf brunette. An expression of feigned disinterest crept into her face and Cas proceeded to gawk about at nothing in particular, if only to look occupied and not sound the short man's inner alarms. An occasional glance his way and once the half-elf felt certain he had not uncovered her nefarious intentions, she rose from her seat and turned his way.

"Oh wow, what a beautiful lute!" Cas called out excitedly, purposely naming the instrument wrong. Soundless, methodical steps of her soft-soled boots brought her closer to the halfling. Mildly aware she looked like a common thug while clad in her leather armor, even with the pretty face of hers, Cas beamed a charming smile and grasped her hands together. "Are you going to play at lord Virias' place tonight, sir? What a coincidence, I'm a servant there myself! Perhaps I'll get to hear you play?"

The huge smile on her face looked as friendly as it seemed genuine, alas, like the barrage of words, it served as nothing other than a distraction. On the wooden floorboards, Cas' feet shuffled closer ever so slightly to close the gap between them. A hand briskly shot toward the violin on his back, gently touching its body.

"Is it ebony? Wait, no! Spruce!"

Information traveled fast in a city where shadows had eyes and walls had ears. Word on the street was one self-proclaimed lord Gabriel Virias had recently acquired a letter with sensitive information regarding one of the church's bishops. Scandalous, outright heretical words penned by the bishop himself supposedly dotted the piece of paper, along the bishop's name and seal. Lord Virias likely intended to expand his influence by holding the bishop by his holy balls via blackmail, but a crafty sneak able to liberate the letter would undoubtedly make bank. Big animals like the parties involved were dangerous, yet extremely profitable to cross. Virias was known for his ties to the thieves' guild and it came as no surprise no local thief dared to cross the man. Independents, on the other hand...

One such freelance thief, a young half-elf, planned to abscond with said letter and poof before the 'lord' and his cronies turned the city upside down. The knife-ear's plan was nothing less than to squeeze the holy man for as much as she could and sell the letter back to Virias before the mobster-turned-lord sicked half the continent against her. It sounded easy in her head, but rather than worry about the after-robbery part, the girl's thoughts were currency pre-occupied by the break-in itself. The lord's mansion at Skinflint's Hill was bound to be stacked with valuables and guards alike. And as luck would have it, the new lord had called a masquerade ball for tonight, intent to weasel his way among the nobility.

A perfect opportunity for a thief.

Too perfect to miss, in fact, forcing the half-elven scoundrel to act fast. Over the past few days, she had mulled everything over and eventually, her mind had hatched a suitable plan or two.

Caslawen knew she lacked the posh manners and refined speech necessary to make it as a noble guest. That, and she had never heard of half-elven nobles. She knew, however, where her kind thrived; among the servants of noble lords and ladies. Short on staff for the upcoming event, the mansion was quick to hire almost any pair of hands. Especially if said pair of hands belonged to Eleanor, a thoroughly domesticated half-elf maid with excellent references; young half-elf maidens were always in high demand. Forging a foreign certificate and references gave Cas little trouble, especially since nobody bothered to check them up close. The same went for acquiring the same sort of outfit as she had seen on the servants from Virias manor.

Right now, with hours left to waste, she sat at the Speared Boar tavern. Still clad in a combination of leather and hide, she gave the appearance of a poacher rather than the maid she was to become. Soft, wistful tunes of a lute echoed through the establishment for the few customers within. Paying it no mind, Cas studied a makeshift map before her with an attentive gaze. Laid on the sturdy wooden table and inscribed on a discarded piece of paper, the map represented her only clue to the mansion's layout. Its accuracy was dubious at best as it had originated from the intoxicated mind of a drunken guard, but it beat going in completely blind.

A hand went to brush a strand of brown hair from her face before she perched her chin in a palm, resting the elbow against the table's frame and drawing a sigh. A bit of a hairball as far as her haircut went, the youngster didn't know whether to try and tame her thick, dark hair straight or leave it in its natural state. The teenage thief recalled how lower and upper social classes alike obsessed over the right and proper hair styling befitting their station but for the life of her could not remember the specifics. 

*clink*

The familiar sound of a metal coin colliding with a wooden surface snapped her out of it. With a blink, Cas' scarlet gaze tore away from the map and scrutinized her surroundings for the source of the sound. She wouldn't say no to a purse full of silver if the opportunity presented itself.

Curiosity and caution alike reflected in the girl's large crimson eyes as she observed him equip the right instruments. An audible gasp escaped her lips as the needly pierced her doll's deformed face. Gone was her interest in the horse and she peered over his shoulder to ensure the little thing was taken care of properly.
 
"Hmph. I have never seen a zombie handle a needle before." Akayuki commented with a degree of skepticism, her mind already racing with the infinite possibilities of punishment should his hand slip and ruin the toy even further.
 
"If he really loves me, he will return," she stated in regards to the black cat, mild indifference and almost annoyance creeping into her tone. "Eventually. And how exactly would you want to find a specific cat? And would it even recognize me after, I dunno, thousands of thousands of thousands of years or something?"
 
The littlest lich pursed her lips tight, eyeing his handiwork intently and scrutinizing it for any sort of imperfection that would serve as a funny excuse for punishment.
 
"You worry your undead head about my doll. Make it look good. Your eternal unlife is on the line, you know~"

A secret.

Probably a stamina potion by the looks of it. The expensive sort. So said the only logical explanation Cas' mind came up with. It made no sense for a thief to use an item so expensive merely to show off. Perhaps it allowed his old bones to move at all?

Perplexed and intrigued, the half-elf felt her heart no longer pounded like crazy in her chest. Good, she needed her hands steady in case a rusty lock needed to be picked. That and Simon had mentioned teaching her how to open security locks, the modern ones.

A nod toward the mill's roof and she spoke, giving an answer about the dangers and benefits of using this way.

"They're not guarded and not many tired guards look up. It's the safest entry point I think. You need to see where you'll drop, and if it's too high there is no chance to get in or out without a good rope. Breaking the skylight glass is too loud, so prying it open is preferable. Getting a big haul out this way can be a pain."

She tiptoed toward the edge of the roof and peered at the dark streets below. She wouldn't want to get caught down there – remaining high up on their way in and out was the only available option in her opinion.

"You can sew?!" the white-haired child exclaimed in surprise. "But you're dead! Aren't your hands stiff? Unfeeling?"

She turned toward his hands with a soft smile as if the answer to her question was written on his gloves. This discovery was nothing short of shocking, enough to warrant a mention in a book or two she intended to write at some point. A zombie capable of the delicate art of sewing!

The little under terror levitated after Simon and followed into the camp. An easily distracted little lich with a fondness for pretty and cute animals, she immediately moved toward the majestic horse and slowly, carefully reached out to it with a hand, intent on petting its head.

"Simon. Did you know? Horses and other animals can also turn undead. Your animal friend can be your companion for eternity! Wouldn't it be beautiful if everything died and came back to life, perfectly preserved to retain its living beauty? But the ugly things would remain dead, ridding the world of all ugliness! I used to have a beautiful cat with a coat black as coal. Very large, too. I used my ingenious special technique to ensure his beauty and cuddly nature remained preserved forever. Perhaps he's still alive. I dunno. Last time I saw him was like a... thousand years ago. Maybe. I hope to meet him again someday. He was the best."

She had not thought him a fast runner, much less an athletic one at that. For that very reason, Cas was caught completely off guard as he started to flee over the rooftops, passing jumps an acrobatic creature like herself had trouble making. It took everything Cas had to avoid lagging and she still faced difficulty keeping up with the man. Be it tiles or simple wooden boards, scaffolding, or support beams, everything that could be grabbed or stepped on was utilized to propel the thieving due closer to their destination across the rooftops. By the time they stopped, Cas slumped down and felt her muscles burn.

"How can... an old man like you... run so fast?!" She managed to gasp out between ragged breaths. "'Tis unnatural!"

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, the sudden surge of adrenaline and physical activity in stark contrast with Cas' usual slow, methodical pickpocketing. But as her system started to cool down, the half-elf was given a good chance to visually scout the imposing lumber mill before them. Three thugs who passed for guards guarded what she thought the main entrance. Well illuminated with torches, one guy permanently stationed by the metal door and two making rounds around the area, she had rejected the point of entry outright.

Given the thieves were already stationed on the roof, her crimson eyes shifted to the mill's upper grounds. Dark as night, nobody on guard duty, and with a convenient way of entering the mill to boot. Whatever security was present there, she guessed it to be rusty old locks and poorly maintained windows. Caslawed had mentally marked the roof as her preferred path to infiltrate the mill. She rose, relaxed, and scoured the place for a back entrance, though found none when observing the mill from this angle.

"I vote for going through the roof," she commented and licked her lips like a cat looking at a bowl of cream. "Nice and quiet."

"If you're willing to teach..." The half-elf shrugged in reaction to his confidence with locks. Her nimble hands had picked a few, but never the fancy, complicated ones. Safes were completely out of the question and thus the only locks to ever fall victim to Cas' skill were the simple iron ones, large and sturdy. The prospect of learning how to deal with more complicated beasts excited her, however unlikely she found the idea of an old thief like Simon keeping up with the latest trends in security.

She followed after her new mentor outside, taking in the late breeze and noting the dark, much less populated atmosphere the city had. At a time like this, thieves and other unsavory elements crawled from their hiding holes and used their respective arts. Cas just hoped none of them would bump into her and Simon. These and similar thoughts were interrupted when Simon asked about the factory. A sigh pushed through her lips and her tongue clicked.

"Dunno. The one with the same sorta symbol as the workers wore. I'll recognize it if I see it again. But I'm new to the city, so... see ya up there."

Afraid her woeful lack of vocabulary and inability to describe precisely what she saw would show, she went ahead. Half wood elf, the teenage thief did not need to be told what to do next. Without a word, she grabbed at the edge of the roof and pulled herself up with a soft grunt before crawling onto the roof. She had done this sort of thing before. Once situated upon the stable, her soft-soled boots almost soundlessly moved toward a wooden support beam that held a small balcony above the stables. Up and up she went, standing upon the balcony's railing like some sort of circus acrobat, and climbing further in a way that made it look natural for her slender body. Soon the inn's roof turned into a floor for her sneaky feet to step on, and from there she slipped into a dark shadow right next to the smoking chimney.

"Thieves' Highway. Every city has at least one. We're lucky, looks like we're early." The half-elf grinned from ear to ear and peered into the dark. One of the few benefits of her elven heritage was superior eyesight in dark and dim conditions. An advantage over human thieves for sure. As she gazed from one roof to another and mentally mapped the surrounding area, making note of possible routes and suitable access points, Cas felt this liberating sensation in her chest. The guards patrolling the streets would never see the shadowy figures carefully scuttling high above their heads.

Her red eyes nearly bulged out as he went on and on about this and that and everything he said went in one ear and out the other. Patience wasn't among Akayuki's virtues. The tip of the red lollipop found itself on her lips again and she started to suck on it as vocally as possible, loud slurps wordlessly voicing her disapproval of everything he had to say. Before he even had a chance to finish, the child had removed the lollipop from her mouth and briskly pointed it at him.

"Shh! I'll even give you my lollipop! Fruit flavor! Just... stop talking, will you?!" The adorable little terror snapped and sparks of irritation dangerously flashed over her irises. "What are you even going on about?! Stop being so frantic! First this demon tells me you are a gift to me. Then you say naughty words and start to whine and talk some nonsense about dogs. And then you reject me as your new master, even though I am infinitely better than your own master. And then, and then! And then you babble something about how you'll call me and be my henchman and blah blah blah, I stopped listening around that part."

Once her mouth started going, there was no end to her complaints.

Back into her mouth the lollipop went and she cherished the sugar rush.

"Juf' cawm 'owm," She spoke with a mouthful of candy. "Taek deef bweafs. Hmm. Wat do 'ou fant to du? Fanna go foume ow...?"

One of her hands removed the delicious speech destroyer out again, "Do you want to join me or not? If you want to return to your old master then by all means, I'm not stopping you. In fact, I don't really care what you do, as I have an old friend to save."

Her face turned serious, for it was a grave matter and infinitely important. The hand without the lollipop reached within the hem of her heavy robe and when it emerged, it held a small cloth doll. Its colors were faded, the clothes lovingly wrapped about it out of fashion and as foreign as Akayuki herself, and a nasty tear split its face open, a button eye barely hanging on a thread.

"I was hoping to find a talented seamstress to fix it. Would you happen to know where to find one?"