Chapter One (Part One): Her Name was Lumina

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A/N: Media is how I imagine our heroine, Lumina, to look! Music video is "Unsquare Dance" which goes well with Lumina's thieving, if you enjoy listening and reading!

I always loved the rush of adrenaline that came the second before the steal.

Picture a busy marketplace; people shouting their wares, the hissing of frying pans, the braying of donkeys as they move through the crowds. Imagine that it was nearly midsummer, and the sun was so hot that it sent heat waves rising from the dusty ground, and cast dark, soothing shadows that created puppet shows of weaving bodies. Now, add in a small, lithe figure of a young girl, no older than eighteen, and expertly hidden amongst the dark corners of the market.

That would be me.

It was nearly midday, during the height of the summer, and sweat coursed down my neck. My palms trembled. My back ached. Gods, was I getting old? My eighteenth birthday was in a few days. And I had been feeling odd lately...

Suppressing a snort, I sighed. Reia would say I was being silly, as she had the last time I'd brought up "becoming old". My reasoning was, as orphans approaching adulthood, that we were old— within the year we would have to leave and find our own trade.

Whatever that would be. Reia would be fine. With her good looks, her charm and her cleverness, she could take almost any job she wanted to.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets, waiting for midday and the heaviest traffic in which to conceal my activity.

My thoughts drifted once more, staring around the marketplace with a feeling of foreboding. Was this all that the remainder of my life would be— a tiny, backwater town in the north where technology barely reached? I clicked my tongue, disappointed. I dearly loved engines, and rare was a sight of a flying machine passing overhead here. Rumour was it that airships were common in Illychia, a land to the south, and that electricity lit up the capital city. Here, we were lucky to have a gas lamp.

Here, we were lucky to have food on the table.

If I managed to bring it.

Stealing was the only thing I was good at, aside from inventing - which nobody deemed a useful talent anyway. Not here, where technology was still tomorrow's adenture. Not that stealing was morally right- I knew that it wasn't- but when you were hungry, and an orphan, there weren't many options available.

My eyes today, however, weren't focused on the usual nourishing theft. If they were, I would be over towards the bakery stalls, the vegetable stalls, and, if I were having a particularly good day, poultry or fish stands. Instead, I was fixated on a more expensive, excessive product as I prowled forward.

Overhead, the sun reached its peak. Time to move. Two steps and I was in full daylight. Feeling blinded and exposed, I hid behind my fringe. I approached the wooden booth, decorated with lamps and wind chimes, enticing the customer with some spare coin.

Water trickled down my spine, from heat and anticipation. Not a single commoner flanked this stall; as I approached it, eyes flickered towards the peasant approaching them.

I could almost see myself from their own eyes; a tiny, deathly pale, cloaked girl, lurching towards them with dark hair flowing like hellish tentacles from her head. I had to look scary.

The servants of the wealthier families were the first to shoo me away. They turned their noses upwards at me and cursed my filthiness. The middle-class ladies, clustered in groups, clutched at their posies and clasped their hands in prayer. I put on a convincing stagger, gasping for breath.

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