A Bad Idea
Characters: Rhen D., Lars T.
Idea: Questions like "so who actually stole the elf statuette?" keep me up at night so I just wrote a quick piece lol. Also this is my first time trying out present tense so it might be weird at parts, please bear with me. I was trying to broaden my writing skills.
Note: I can't seem to stay away from RxL sigh XD --- "This is a bad idea," Lars whispers.
"We don't really have a choice." Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Rhen hoists herself up onto the window ledge and swings her legs inside the house. She lands softly on the carpeted floor and moves away. Lars lands next to her, just not as gracefully. He knocks an unknown object, sending it clattering to the floor. "Shh!" she whispers fiercely. "You're going to wake the people!" "It's not my fault! It's so dark I can barely see my fingers." Suppressing an urge to roll her eyes, Rhen lifts her arms and slowly makes her way through - what she assumes is - the hall, blinking hard in hopes of getting her vision adjusted to the darkness. Lars knocks into something behind her and he swears again. "What a brilliant idea," he growls sarcastically behind her. "Quit whining. We'll just grab the statue and bolt... hopefully with no problems." "'You're both small in size. Also, you're both the youngest'," Lars mimics, "What a load of crap. Te'ijal should be doing this. Her night vision wouldn't be a problem."
She ignores Lars' comment. Her outstretched fingers come in contact with a wall. She feels her way around it, bringing them into a room. But Rhen misses an armchair, planted right in front of her, and she ends up stubbing her toe - hard - on one of its cold metal legs.
"Ow!" Tears spring into her eyes. Rhen reaches for her toes and groans when she feels wetness on her fingers.
"Shut up! Do you want to get us killed?" Lars hisses.
"What about it?"
"I stubbed it. And I think it's bleeding."
Lars clucks his tongue. Rhen can imagine him rolling his eyes. She hears movement behind her. "Where is it," he whispers.
"Where is what?" she replies, annoyed.
"Your TOE. Where is your toe!"
"Give me your foot!"
Rhen eagerly obliges. But she misjudges in the darkness and her foot comes in contact with Lars' face instead. It hits him right in the nose and he loses his balance, falling backwards on the ground.
"Damn it! I'm so sorry, Lars!"
Lars makes no reply; instead he lets out a squeak of pain.
Suddenly an angry voice calls out from the top of the stairs across the hall, accompanied by the faint glow of candlelight. "Who goes there?!"
Panicking, Rhen reaches for where Lars had fallen and grabs onto what she assumes is his robes and pulls him up. "Hurry, someone's coming!" she hisses.
Lars pushes her forward. "Hide!"
"Show yourself!" Angry footsteps start descending the stairs and approaching them at a steady pace.
"But where?" Rhen whispers urgently.
The approaching glow from the candle illuminates the room they are in through the door. In its dim light Lars spots a couch by the far wall. He points to it.
"Behind that couch! Go!"
Quickly they head for the couch and pull it away from the wall, enough for the two of them to squeeze in behind. In their haste and panic, Lars trips and lands, back first, into the space they have created. Rhen follows suit in a tangle of arms and legs and lands squarely on top of him, earning a pained "Oof!" from the sorcerer.
"My leg!" Lars whispers frantically. Rhen cranes her neck to see his blue-clad leg sticking out. She presses her hands against the floor and lifts herself, trying to give him room to fold his leg in. But the candlelight fills the room and it is too late to reposition themselves. They remain in an awkward position, staring at each other with wide eyes.
The voice starts speaking again.
"Who is it? I know what I heard!"
Heart beating fast, Rhen squeezes her eyes shut and holds her breath, praying hard that the unknown man would leave and head back to bed. Below her Lars also stops breathing.
"Come out," says the man in a singsong voice, "I know someone's here. Who is it? Is it YOU, Gerard?"
Rhen suppresses yet another urge to roll her eyes. What’s wrong with this guy? All she wants to do is to get the statue and get out of his hair. Why was he being so difficult? She sighs internally, arms trembling from the strain of holding herself up.
"Dear, what are you doing out of bed?" a female voice drawl.
Rhen meets Lars' gaze and she tilts her head upwards, hoping he will understand what she is going to do. He understands and nods, mouthing, "Slowly."
Lifting herself, she peeks out from their hiding place, careful not to make any sudden movements. She sees a woman in a nightdress standing at the door. Dismissing the woman, Rhen gives the room they were in a quick sweep. They are in a nicely furnished living room. There was a hearth, a few bookcases and that dreadful armchair. And there, in the corner, stands a statuette of an elf, the statue the thieves had requested and the item they are there for. Satisfied, she slowly lowers herself, mentally taking note of the statue's placement.
"I heard something," the man replies gruffly.
"There's nothing, dearie. You're just jittery," the woman replies. "Come back to bed, love."
The man says something inaudible and walks away.
"Finally," Lars mouths angrily.
The candlelight dims as the man joins the woman at the door. They head back up the stairs together and the living room is once again shrouded in darkness. But Rhen and Lars remain still. Only when a distant door open and shut did Lars let out a tired sigh. They shift into more into a more comfortable position and look at each other in the darkness.
"We wait a while. They might still be awake," she replies.
"That was too close. And I think my leg is dead."
"Tell me about it," Rhen whines, rubbing her arms.
"Hey, it's harder for me. ME! I'm LARS TENOBOR, cousin to the Empress, youngest sorcerer the Isles have ever seen and what am I doing? Breaking into people's houses!"
"Don't you whatever me-"
"Anyways it's for a good cause," Rhen interrupts lamely. It is too dark but she is pretty sure Lars rolled his eyes when she said that.
A silence falls between them.
"Might as well fix your toe while waiting," he says suddenly, reaching for her ankle. Rhen lets him hold it and winces when he places his hand over her abused toe. Tingling healing magic courses through her foot and the pain subsides.
"Thanks," she whispers.
"You should get your face fixed too."
"What about it?"
"I hit you pretty hard. You might have broken something..."
"Ugh," was Lars' only reply.
Smiling to herself, Rhen slowly makes her way out from behind the couch. Mentally picturing the living room in her head, she heads straight for the corner where the elf statuette is placed. Behind her Lars also stands up, cursing at his numb leg. Her fingers touch cold stone and she wraps her arms around the statuette, lifting it from its pedestal.
"Got it," she whispers triumphantly.
"Good, let's go."
"Need some help."
Together, they hoist the heavy statuette between them and head back to the window from which they had entered.
"Do you know the penalty for stealing from a noble's house?"
“Like I said, we need this statue to help the King, so I'm pretty sure we're forgiven."
"Ah yes, 'it is for a good cause'."
"Shut UP, Lars. And let’s get out of here."