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[ Ⅱ ] 3 months pre heist

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3 months pre heist
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Most of Ketterdam only know Morana by her smell. If any of the citizens would sniff the infamous scent of pink pepper, saltwater and vanilla they knew to move quickly and not look back. The unfortunate people that actually got to see her didn't live to tell the tale. But the next morning that the corpse was either washed up at the shore or found stuffed into a garbage can, the faint fragrance was still hanging in the air as if to taunt the person even after they died.

Pigeons, of course, knew nothing of sorts, so stealing from them was easy. When they smelled pink pepper, saltwater and vanilla they would either ignore it or pucker their noses, thinking it comes from one of the whores presenting themselves.

That thought made Morana laugh, they weren't wrong after all.

But right now, she wasn't laughing but crying. Tears were streaming down her face, brows and lips shaking, and she was fairly sure snot was dropping out of her nose.

She has always been a good actress.

"Please," she begged, "Please let me go." Her voice was shaky and even had a small crack at the end of the sentence.

Suddenly her cheek was burning, and her head flew to the side, connecting with the wall on her right. She cried out but the scream was silenced by another punch into her abdomen.

"you speak when I want you to speak, woman!" the man standing over her barked at her with a fjerdan accent that was so laughable, Morana almost broke character.

Her knees started to hurt after all that kneeling, and she hoped it would be over soon. However, now was the grand finale they have trained weeks for.

The man took out a gun and without waiting for approval, shot her in the shoulder. That made her mad, she told them how important consent was and still, those douchebags didn't get it. But she had a role to play so she fell on the floor screaming bloody murder and rolled around, clutching her arm.

Without even having to open her eyes, she knew the pigeons were eating it up. There was screaming, whimpering and Morana could have sworn she heard someone fall to the ground.

"Please," a quiet voice spoke up, "let her go, I'll give you all my money just leave her alone."

And that's how they had a total of 138 Kruge 10 minutes later. After everyone left, of course not without asking Morana if she needed help in any way to which she just shook her head and bit her lip, the blonde girl got up from the ground and a grin spread on her face.

"Another successful play with the pigeons."

"So, you're finally content with everything?" Johklon, the man that shot her, asked.

"No." with that her grin disappeared and she stared at him with narrowed eyes, "How often do I have to tell you to do the sign before you shoot. What if I hadn't been ready yet? Do you know how embarrassing it would have been if you would have shot me and there was no blood?" she raised her eyebrows staring at the man in front of her that suddenly looked inches smaller than her.

While waiting for an answer she timidly tugged the shirt she wore down to her shoulder, careful to not spill any more blood. Or at least what they used as blood, which if she were, to be honest, was blood.

She trained this trick for months and finally perfected it. No one really understood how she made it look like she was actually wounded, and she didn't plan on telling anyone. Illusionists don't share their secrets, and thieves don't share anything.