A notorious traveler meets aspiring treasure hunter in the most abstract of places. Unveiling mysteries with the sky as her limit and the depths of the world as her guidance. Y/N and the traveler with nothing more than 3 swords follow the adventure...
In the dimly lit bar, a haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air like a heavy secret waiting to be revealed.
The scent of liquor mixed with the laughter and low murmurs of patrons seeking solace from the world outside.
Amidst this cloak of shadows and anonymity, a woman known only as Y/N slipped through the entrance, her steps cautious and purposeful.
Y/N had spent years perfecting the art of thievery, her lithe frame and quick fingers making her a master in the realm of shadows. Though she called herself a treasure hunter, a thief was what she was named by the victims of her demise.
Tonight, however, was different.
She had a storm at her back, a relentless pursuit from a faction of enigmatic figures who sought what she had taken from them - a precious artifact, a key that opened physical fate; 'The Million'.
Her heart raced as she glanced over her shoulder, her dark eyes scanning the faces of strangers with a mix of paranoia and desperation.
She ran through the town hurriedly, the blur of onlookers merging into faces of judgement and some of disgust.
She didn't have the time to worry about what other people thought about her right now. Her chest ached as she caught the wind through her hair, running even faster between stalls and alleyways.
The evening sun blessing her with the arrival of darkness, the night, a perfect opportunity for her to hide away from her chasers. The orange glow kissed at her skin, tanning her limbs and coating her body with sweat.
Her feet ached and her shoulders burned as she recalled hanging on to the side of the museum building she stole the artifact from. Her fingers were locked into place and even the slightest gust of wind was ready to push her off.
She anticipated the moment she could jump off, when a moving farm truck with hay bales had passed she saw that opportunity and sought it through, landing with a comfortable thump.
Her white singlet had been stained a light beige and her khaki cargo pants had been tattered just a little, when you focused hard enough, the hole in her pocket would reflect the pure gold key.
She turned to glance behind her shoulder again, noticing she had lost the men. She controlled her breathing and swallowed a gulp of saliva.
She discreetly slipped into a bar in the corner alley of the street, safe enough, temporarily.
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Decorated with old wooden statues and wanted posters, the bar had a swinging sign and middle aged men either passed out or drinking their years away. She grimaced, probably not the best place to fit in, but with her golden luck, they paid no attention.
She slipped into the pocket of a man that had just met his face with the wooden table, snatching a cigarette, lighting it for herself with her black lighter.
