A Heist

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Walking down the street to home in the evening, Lyra kept her head down, avoiding the people's gaze. And because of that, she didn't realize they were staring at her with confusion rather than outright hostility.

The moment her hand reached for the doorknob, she knew something was wrong. She could tell someone had intruded into her comfort zone. Pushing open the door, she looked around the living room in horror. It had literally been destroyed. The table was overturned and one of its legs was thrown across the room. Broken glass stood in odd angles on the floor.

Careful not to step on the glass, she made her way to the bedroom. If the living room was a disaster area, the bedroom looked like a tornado had gone through it. Her covers had been torn as if with a knife. The cabinet was open, spilling its contents onto the floor. She crossed the room and closed the window, wondering if the thief had made their getaway there.

A careful inspection of her house showed nothing missing—not that she had much in the first place. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair and left the house, deciding she'd clean up later when she gathered some energy.

Running daydreams and theories in her head, she bumped into someone on the road.

"My apologies."

She looked up to see a young man, his orange hair sticking out in odd angles. His blue eyes seemed to be holding a gentle amusement, as if the most mundane of things would be fun to mess with. A mask was pulled to one side of his head.

"Don't worry about it, girlie," he said, as she stepped back. Leaning forward, he added, "Is something wrong?"

"Not really, no. Who are you?"

"Childe, a Harbinger of the Fatui."

The fact his name was Childe caught her interest, even though there were too many words she didn't know in that one sentence. "Your name is Childe?"

He shrugged. "It's an alias of sorts." He looked down the street where she had walked in from, his gaze landing on her house. "I saw someone jump out of the window of that house."

She looked up, immediate interest shining in her eyes. "Who?"

He smiled. "Why don't we do a little information trade? What possession might you have that invited a thievery? In exchange, I'll tell you what I saw."

Lyra, frustrated, shook her head. "I have nothing worth stealing."

Childe raised an eyebrow, and Lyra knew he didn't believe her. "Too bad then." He turned a corner.

"Hey, wait!" But when she turned the same corner, there was no one to be found.

Lyra stared at the empty street for a while, before sighing and turning around. She wondered who she should report to for attempted thievery, and of course, it would probably be the knights. It was the beginning of the night now; the sun had already set, and she had no intention of returning home. She decided to head to the headquarters to see if she could talk to Jean.

"Lyra?"

Lyra turned to see Diluc, his hand hovering in front of the door to his tavern. "Hey."

"What's wrong?" he asked, as he walked over to her. And so, Lyra explained how she had returned home to see her house in tatters, as Diluc's eyebrows were lost in his bangs. "What do you even have that's worth stealing?"

Lyra shrugged, suddenly reminded of the fact that he had come to her house once. "Pretty much nothing."

Diluc tilted his head, and Lyra had a fleeting vision of cat ears on his head. "Shall I take a look?"

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