[center][h1][color=forestgreen]~Alysse~[/color][/h1][/center]

Falkreath was a dark place, the grey skies that threatened rain and the looming tombs of the fallen that the hold and capital was named for. It was a dreary place, and Alysse Lathronein adored it. As she leaned upon the counter of Grave Concoctions waiting for customers and watching the owner, Zaria, mix up a batch of healing potion. It was always a quick seller and they never seemed to have enough. Especially with the war, but the Imperials and their taxes were taking the coin as fast as the war brought it in. A curse and a blessing. But then again, Alysse mussed, war was a blessing to her second trade.

In the sense of challenge and danger. A slight smirk graced her lips as she gave a light chuckle. Zaria knew her well enough not to ask. She'd only get a shake of a ravened head and a smile. Her fingers flickered tapping on the counter, before scooping up a basket. "I'm heading to the stalls, Zaria. You'll keep a eye on the shop?" The Redguard laughed with a retort about her having run the shop well enough before the Nord had joined as her help. Slipping on a cloak over her robes she pulled the hood over the raven bun she had pinned her hair up in. 

Stalking through the streets with a joyous sway to her step. The markets loomed ahead and her amber-brown eyes gleamed with glee. She was here to shop, true. But her first love hid in the many secret pockets of the robes, and her quick fingers. As a townsman walked by, struggling under a large load of lumber, she passed closed by, her hand darting into the shadows. As the man walked away, Alysse's purse was heavier with a small brass key. She was a thief, and she enjoyed it. Perhaps she enjoyed it a bit too much.