There was theft afoot.
Well, that was Marcia's running theory after angrily searching for her compact mirror for four entire seconds with the patience of a Proctor five minutes before lunch. She could have sworn that she had placed it on the bench a few minutes ago before re-lacing her boots, but now it was conveniently nowhere to be found. Could the Initiate have looked a little more thoroughly? Absolutely. Would she acknowledge that and search properly? Never. Had to be theft—no doubt in her mind.
But who?
She swept her gaze up and down the corridor, which was admittedly quiet, given that it was already evening, and scoured the depths of her short-term memory for a clue. Somebody did walk past, right enough, from left to right and out to the courtyard. At this time? Internally, she cursed herself for her lack of observation before sprinting off in pursuit of the supposed thief.
Yet, when she arrived at the entrance courtyard, it was... empty? Nobody could have crossed it that quickly. Initiate Vult, maybe, but he didn't seem like the thieving type.
No, somebody absolutely walked this way, very likely with her mirror in their cretinous sticky fingers. She had decided it, and thus, it was true. Fucking bastard, whoever they were.
It wasn't just some sentimental object that Marcia might have wept over if she had to replace it; no, it was a vital component of her magic and an emergency source of reflection in rooms without. Not having it made the Initiate feel vulnerable, and feeling vulnerable was the eighth lesser-known sin. Also, it was just the principle of the matter. Violence between peers was one thing, but stealing?! Why not steal from the wealthy cretins with their noble house names? Why her?
"You've got to be somewhere," Marcia seethed, reflexively curling and unfurling her fists in anticipation of cracking somebody right in the jaw.
Having already double-downed once on deciding that the mirror had been stolen in the first place (and not just behind the bench), she also double-downed on the theory that her thief was here and hiding in the courtyard. Flawless decision-making. It had been a particularly taxing training day, and it was late in her defence.
And so the hunt began. She would kick every bush, climb every tree, and inspect every statue in the courtyard. There would be no hiding from Marcia nor her wrath.
Well, that was Marcia's running theory after angrily searching for her compact mirror for four entire seconds with the patience of a Proctor five minutes before lunch. She could have sworn that she had placed it on the bench a few minutes ago before re-lacing her boots, but now it was conveniently nowhere to be found. Could the Initiate have looked a little more thoroughly? Absolutely. Would she acknowledge that and search properly? Never. Had to be theft—no doubt in her mind.
But who?
She swept her gaze up and down the corridor, which was admittedly quiet, given that it was already evening, and scoured the depths of her short-term memory for a clue. Somebody did walk past, right enough, from left to right and out to the courtyard. At this time? Internally, she cursed herself for her lack of observation before sprinting off in pursuit of the supposed thief.
Yet, when she arrived at the entrance courtyard, it was... empty? Nobody could have crossed it that quickly. Initiate Vult, maybe, but he didn't seem like the thieving type.
No, somebody absolutely walked this way, very likely with her mirror in their cretinous sticky fingers. She had decided it, and thus, it was true. Fucking bastard, whoever they were.
It wasn't just some sentimental object that Marcia might have wept over if she had to replace it; no, it was a vital component of her magic and an emergency source of reflection in rooms without. Not having it made the Initiate feel vulnerable, and feeling vulnerable was the eighth lesser-known sin. Also, it was just the principle of the matter. Violence between peers was one thing, but stealing?! Why not steal from the wealthy cretins with their noble house names? Why her?
"You've got to be somewhere," Marcia seethed, reflexively curling and unfurling her fists in anticipation of cracking somebody right in the jaw.
Having already double-downed once on deciding that the mirror had been stolen in the first place (and not just behind the bench), she also double-downed on the theory that her thief was here and hiding in the courtyard. Flawless decision-making. It had been a particularly taxing training day, and it was late in her defence.
And so the hunt began. She would kick every bush, climb every tree, and inspect every statue in the courtyard. There would be no hiding from Marcia nor her wrath.