INFINITY ✞ J. DEVORAK

I: THE BEGINNING.

I: THE BEGINNING.

The city. Crimson water. Dark alleys, a lively pub, a raven, a man. There were reasons to merit Irina's reluctance to enter the city, but the prospect of monetary recompense for her troubles fueled her return. Some would call her a con, and others a thief, but she preferred to call herself a...repurposer of goods.

By day, she paced the outskirts of town, watching, waiting, scoping out her next victim. Women, bodies clad in colorful robes and glittering jewels on their fingers, breeze around on the streets. Well-dressed men, some with a partner on their arm and others confidently solo, flaunted gold watches and perfectly tailored suits in colors too vibrant for local dyes. Any one of those men or women could likely yield a decent payday if she played her cards right. It was a simple process, really. First, you present a distraction—this could be anything from introducing yourself as an associate to a business no one's ever heard of or asking the victim to sign off on a petition. From there, it's either shake their hand and strip their wrist of jewelry or hug them and storm the contents of their pockets or purse. Easy.

But Irina hadn't had a pick like that in months. Funds were frighteningly low. She hadn't eaten in weeks, and her clothing hung from her malnourished frame—the very same shawl and dress that had once fit her like a glove now engulfed her skeletal body. Her gray-blonde hair had thinned considerably and her once full, gamine-esque face was gaunt and pale. To put it simply, Irina was truly in dire straits. And that was why tonight's run was so important. She needed a good pick, otherwise she'd soon be too weak to do much more than lie down somewhere and wait for death.

Night fell. A cool breeze pierced straight through her clothes and chilled her body, propelling her forwards and into the city lines. As Irina approached the main square, she set her sights on a snowy-haired young man with golden skin sitting by the fountain. He held a book in his right hand, while his other hand hung lazily in the water, fingers twirling slowly. From a distance, Irina studied him, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Her eyes drank him in, wandering from the blue gemstone necklace that graced his collarbone to the gold rings that adorned his long, delicate fingers. She wondered how she was going to get them off him...then, it came to her. Holding her head up high, cinching her dress at the waist with the ribbon from her hair, and setting her hips into motion with a seductive sashay, she made her way over to him. As she drew closer, he looked up, his violet eyes meeting her cunning green ones.

"Hello..." he said softly, closing the book over his thumb, marking his place. The moonlight accentuated the striking white color of his hair. His gaze was paralyzing, deep...but its effect on her wore off quickly. She gave him a gentle smile.

"May I sit?" Irina asked him, swishing her dress seductively and ever-so-slightly tilting her head. He silently obliged, gesturing to the spot beside him. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Instead of sitting beside him, she draped herself across his lap, crossed her legs and laced her arms around his neck. He quirked an eyebrow. "Oh...you're very forward."

"I find that forwardness makes things more fun," she replied, pressing a searing kiss to his exposed neck. He stiffened against her, but said nothing. Her fingers expertly worked the clasp of his necklace and gold choker, freeing them from his neck with ease as she continued to pepper his neck and jaw with kiss after kiss. The man began to go slack in her arms, relaxing, sighing with pleasure. Irina made easy work of his rings, then let her hands roam his body, searching for anything else of value—but it seemed as through she'd run him dry. She pulled away, giving him one last lidded glance before quickly rising to her feet. His expression shifted minutely.