He had been watching all afternoon and into the evening and so far as he could tell there had been no movement in or around the house. From this distance, where the meadow butted into forest, he wasn’t quite able to see the finer details in the fading light but now that darkness had fallen he believed that he could creep closer for a better look.

Tharen had heard the stories the old men told when they had had a few drinks and were in the mood to frighten their juniors: a witch lived in the wood on the outskirts of their village. A crone, thirsty for virgin blood and with powers granted by the old gods of the land. She would grant wishes for a price, but they were double-edged if you weren't careful. He wasn't sure if they were true, but an old woman living in seclusion probably had something he could hock for quick money.

Pins and needles assailed Tharen's legs as he stood from where he'd been crouched in the underbrush. He leaned against a tree and stretched to restore feeling before stepping from the tree line. One the starlight was full on him, a buzzing tingle raised the hair at the back of his neck and he gave a shudder, reaching up to run his neck. Strange; maybe he was getting cold feet?

Before Tharen could cast more doubt on his intentions he began to walk toward the brick home, keeping to the grass and clear of the pebble path lest he be heard. He kept close to the wall once he arrived, pulling a small mirror from his pocket to look through the window at the darkened room within.

Readying his tools, he gave an experimental tug at the windowpane in order to locate the latch and as surprised when it swung noiselessly outward. A moment later, Tharen was lowering himself carefully to the floor; he was in.

In the top floor of the beautifully crafted three-story wood and brick home, which sat deep in the forest away from most of civilization that she knew of, Brynn stood in front of the tall mirror which was situated in the corner of her large bed chamber. Her head tilted slightly, the woman stared blankly at a naked body whose reflection showed prominent facial features, bright emerald eyes, shoulder-length dark hair, a petite frame, and smooth olive skin which she’d quite ignored in her otherwise day-to-day busy life of doing nothing all that important. Outward, she had the visage and physical appearance of one who could be no more older than in her late-twenties, and yet the reality was far from that as even an aging spell can’t fix everything. The years seemed to fly by, even for one who has lived an infinite number of lives, and yet a lot hasn’t changed. However, what became more noticeable as time went on, was the fact that her mind was feeling the affects like slowly fading color pigment from a painted canvas exposed to the light. It saddened her at that moment of realization, that at some point in her long life, she could very well become a hollow representation of the person she knew.

If they only knew me for who I am, rather than what they think I am.

The woman mused, as she stepped away from the mirror and headed to the other side of the room, rummaging through her clothes in the cluttered walk-in closet, the many dresses, corsets, leggings, shoes, and myriad of miscellaneous things hung and stored away in its proper place as she does each and every evening. Brynn pulled a long, elegant, flowy plumb-colored nightgown from the hanger, and slipped it over her body, allowing the lacey material to caress her features as the hem landed at her toes. Her attention turned to the window which looked out into the night, the vast garden, and the clear lake beyond that, her eyes eventually fixating on the fountain in the center of the body of water. She most enjoyed her morning swims, and the opportunity to watch as the sun itself rose above the horizon line, casting it’s warm glow onto her face, reminding her that there is always another day to live for.

She was suddenly pulled from her reverie by an usual feeling, as though something was quite off about her surroundings, by beyond that, further below her. Perhaps the second floor? No, the first? Brynn narrowed her eyes as she thought for a moment, wondering if she was already going mad, but in that moment, she headed out of her room and down the staircase, carrying with her a three-pointed candelabra, which illuminated the way with a magical blue flame.

@DawnsLight

From what he could see in the dim light form the windows the place had rich furnishings. Someone absolutely lived here; the place was too well kept to be vacant. Nothing here was any less than fine, so it stood to reason that any valuables he could find would fetch a good price, even if he had to move them quickly. Eager but not careless, Tharen began to rifle through drawers and anyplace he thought could be a hiding place for trinkets. He pocketed a few items he came across, but was certain that better was to be found in other rooms. Careful strides carried him silently to the threshold of the doorway which led to the hall beyond.

Tharen's ears rang in the silence as he strained to hear even the smallest sound that may indicate movement, ducking his head out to glace around before moving to the foot of the stairway. He had just placed his foot on the bottom most step when the blue glow reflected along the wall from above caught his attention. Was it the moon's light? It couldn't be, if he was remembering correctly the moon wasn't full just now and this light seemed to be moving. It couldn't be a candle. Wheat-colored brows knit with confusion, his mind racing to process just what was approaching before his self-preservation instinct screamed that something was approaching and if he did not want to face some sort of consequence for his trespass, he needed to move now.

He turned, intent on the doorway and the room beyond which housed the open window and his escape, but the darkness and unfamiliar surroundings got the better of him when his hip bumped a small table nearby, nearly toppling a bud vase that rested upon it, the top-heavy peony it held making it wobble precariously. Tharen hissed a curse before he could catch himself. Some master thief! You'll wake whoever is here no matter if they're a deaf old woman or not, idiot! He spun, pressing his back to the wall out of sight of the ghostly azure light coming down the stairs, praying that they did not choose to come all the way to the bottom but, if they did, that he could overpower them without much of a a fight. Cold sweat broke out on his brow and back as he fought to control his breath; each intake and exhale sounding like a gale wind to his strained senses. All that he could do now was wait and see what fate dealt him to act upon.

@Hallion