"The cattle of the Cardinal..." A blaze-haired character, half-cloaked in the shadows of a side street, growls, clearly disgusted. It's only fair to steal - I mean, borrow - from people who won't miss it, right? He scowls as an expensively-clad woman sweeps past the alley where the thief himself is positioned. This man, with a forest-brown glare of a gaze and a curling sweep of scarlet hair, is the quick-fingered Gravo, a low-life in the city of Grandomina, and an outcast amongst those he associates himself with. Survival of the fittest, innit. He darts out quickly, falling into step with a black-haired, suit-clad man, grinning from ear to ear. "Hello, sir, could I interest your aristo-somethin' self in..." He trails off as he slips his hand into the man's jacket pocket, winking and slipping the particularly heavy wallet into his own tattered waistcoat's pocket. "Ya know what, never mind, you'd never be interested." Gravo makes a quick retreat back to his alley, laughing to himself as he pulls out the black leather wallet from his pocket. You'd think they'd make it difficult to steal from 'em, eh? Stealing is somewhat of an art, where Gravo is concerned; he has stolen from the richer individuals in Grandomina for what seems like an age, or simply long enough for the rascal to perfect the art. The thief, you see, craves riches, much like any common pick-pocket, having spent his twenty-three painfully lng and difficult years living in poverty - the vast majority of the populous of Grandomina tends to live in much the same way. In a city as corrupt as this, there is no middle class, no group that defines the line between having riches and not; you're either born wealthy, or you're a peasant (as many had called Gravo in the past). It's rather thanks to this fact that Gravo steals from the rich...but of course, why would he ever share the reward? He is in the "business" for his own gain, and like hell he'll ever give anyone his hard-earned riches!
He shivers slightly as a gust of wind rushes down the alley; he never has grown accustomed to the bizarre weather in Grandomina. The touch of winter's chill has laid a claim over the city, and Gravo hugs himself tightly to battle against the cold.
It's hardly his fault he's in such a state; some people just naturally have a harder life than most in Grandomina, and he more so than most. His life has been so difficult that even the inhabitants of the lowly Gypton district turn their noses up at him. It's just something he's had to grow accustomed to.
Gravo glances up towards the darkening sky, seeing the small glints of moonlight illuminating the many heliskulls travelling around the city delivering messages. Gravo has been in this area long enough to notice that an increased number of heliskulls entering and leaving the palace usually means a celebration is being arranged, and he chuckles darkly at the thought - there won't be much to celebrate by the time the sky has completely set, for sure. Looking up at the turrets and twirling spires of the grand and beauteous Grandominian palace, Gravo feels himself grow dizzy at just the mere sight. For so long, he has scraped by as just a low-life, struggling to keep himself fed and clothed with the stolen riches of others, and has dreamt of one day having the chance to have the palace to himself. And now, if this Princey chap successfully manages to take down the King as promised...he will finally have his chance at living the life he deserves.
Poverty has driven his loved ones from him; so far, in fact, that they were forced to resort to murder to secure money for survival, three years ago. They were killed, his mother, father and two brothers, by Heartatak, after murdering a respected society member and aristocrat, a close subject of King Hux's; Gravo is the last of his family. Tears hang in his throat at the mere thought, and he bows his head as he smiles grimly.
How he has been roped into this whole ordeal is no mystery. A young nefarious prince confronted him in the street one day, and had offered to buy the thief a drink and something to eat. Gravo, having had a rather unpromising and not particularly proficient day thus far, accepted without hesitation, and went with the man, whom introduced himself as Princey, to the nearest tavern. However, Princey explained once inside the establishment that this drink and food would come at a price. Gravo, intrigued, questioned Princey's motives; and then Princey began to tell a tale, a tale of diamond dust and crimson reign. He claimd that the Cardinal and Kind possessed something each that should rightfully belong to Princey and Gravo, and the iniquitous rascal wished to reclaim what belonged to him: a girl. Gravo's greedy mind wanted to claim the King's palace and estate for himself, and Princey promised him just that, in return for joining his militia and helping to secretly plot against the wicked King Hux and atrocious Cardinal Septus. What else can a poverty-stricken merchant of decay such as Gravo ever do in such a situation other than accept the man's terms and agree to join his militia? After all, a palace was to be gained!
Gravo begins to watch the palace from the shadowed alleyway in silence, seeing a red blaze and a puff of smoke forming near the window of the tallest tower. What's happening here, then? He wonders, before squinting and studying the tower more intently. Great fukka Hux, it's fire! The tower...it's on fire! The thief watches in both shock and bewilderment as flames leak and crawl slowly out of each window of the palace, ignoring the screams of people around him and the blare of sirens echoing in the far distance. That Princey burned down my fukka palace! Still, them damn bureau bashers are finally getting what they deserve. It's a shame to waste such a fukka sweet-honey pad! Gravo then steps out from the shadows in the alleyway, his legs picking up speed as he begins advancing towards the palace where he is to meet the other four members of the Militia of the Lost. The riches he received not moments ago are forgotten as his thoughts stray to the burning palace and the rest of the plan, and the whole time his gaze remains fixated on the beautiful burning spires and towers in the sky, like hellfire embracing the smoky black clouds of blazing fire and icy winter.
* * *
[Author's Message]
So sorry I haven't written anything for this in a while! Just it took me a while to work up some inspiration for this one... I'mma be using my short story Death or Disgrace for the next part, based around the mechanist, so that should be up a lot sooner than this one was! And then, for the vigilante, that'll be the difficult one that'll leave me stumped...so bear with me on that one! Also, sorry this is so short, just it was so hard to write, and I covered as much as I could, based around what I figured out from the song (and from my fuzzy and fluffy imagination...)
(And yes, some cheeky quotes from Merchants of Decay and from the Militia of the Lost comic are in there, but shhh)
Keep the peace, stay awesome and faith always...Bevers 0(@.@)0 ;; x
