The King of Thieves [Job - Edith & Atsu]

Wasting a morning was never something the would-be slayer would consider, but without proper aim or destination, the thought of succumbing to boredom started looming over Edith's person like a large, foreboding storm cloud. Her surrogate mother, Ria, hadn't proposed a single errand for her to busy herself with, strangely enough, and despite her insistent pleas for something to do, there really was nothing to do - and it bothered the little Fleur enough to have her traverse the surrounding areas for available odd jobs in the wee hours of morning, where not even a full sunrise was present to greet her resolve.

Two hours into her expedition, and her little companion already seemed fed up with the aimless flying. "...We've been flying for hours now Ede. Pick a landing site already." Cynthia said, her tiny purple body fidgeting a bit as she shifted Edith's weight from one paw to another.

Edith spares the exceed an idle glance, arms folding over her chest, mostly in contemplation. "...Oh hum," she'd mumble, prompting a sigh to clumsily fumble its way through her lips, "Trust my instinct, Thia, we're almost there!"

A pair of bunny ears twitched to that response, feigning irritation as Thia's cuddly face contorted into a scowl, "Just where is this 'there' that you continue talking about?"

"...THERE!" Edith screamed, all at once, feverishly pointing a finger directly at the expanse of fine white that stretched beyond a clearing of mountains, the distance between the pair and the area to be considered lightly, since there wasn't much. From her vantage point, the lack of color had its own, steady allure that drew her in significantly, her body tilted one way from her emphasis of the direction she wished Cynthia would hover over to.

Thia began to sport a questioning expression as she narrowed her eyes, her tiny brows furrowing upon realizing that the selected destination was, in a fact, a desert. Her mistress wasn't one to jest often, but surely now, she didn't mean to spend the next few hours in the smoldering heat of the Forgotten Desert, did she?

"That's a desert." she heard Thia say, though her doubt clearly didn't seem to hinder her flying speed, which was as stable as it ever was.

"I know~" the slayer hummed, swinging her legs to a pronounced rhythm, "But I also know that that's where we're headed, right Thia?"

The exceed no longer has the right words to describe her apprehension for her master's decision, and simply takes to her 'instincts' with a moment of hesitance. "...You're kidding me, right? What's with you fire slayers and heat, anyway?"

Edith provided her answer to her pet's question with an uncanny smile and a jolt-like shock from what comes after that - she thrusts her body forward at a force unmeasured, strong enough to have Thia's grip on her collar slip from her furry protection, sending the little Fleur air-borne and, indefinitely, hurdling towards sudden death.

"We both can spontaneously combust!" she'd say.

"...That doesn't make sense." her pet ponders out loud, several seconds too late to realize the impact of her master's decision to fall out of her-

"IDIOT!"

The wind at that altitude was particularly unpleasant, especially with sudden momentum. But it appeared to have garnered the least amount of attention from the corners of her brain as she rode out her descent with her usual smile on, arms outstretched and body lax as her figure tore through the remaining ounce of sky like a knife to paper. Thia would follow suite, her teeth caught in a grit and her paws desperately grasping at her master's pigtails, in futile hopes, perhaps, of catching her before she'd be impaled or much less crushed by the ground, which was approaching them quickly.

If there had been one, redeeming quality to Edith's whimsies, it was their level of surprise, since she had a tendency to run far from expectations. And when Thia expects her to blonde head into tiny little pieces, she giggles, threading her fingers together as she casts a spell with the precision of practice. In her head, a patch of blossoms paint outward strokes, all in red, with the words to her Azalea swimming through her thoughts. Her fluffy companion had neither the choice nor the will to avert her focus from the flash of flames that corner Edith's person, a spread of magic briefly making home in one portion of the sky before dispersing. The Azalea glows bright scarlet as it generates magic to circle her ankles, buzzing vividly.

Edith would execute a step, balancing her person across the curve of a tree branch, which had gently bent in response to her weight. She flung her best smile back at Cynthia, clinging to a large trunk for her dear life - not in the sense of falling to her death, but rather, escaping the wrath of Thia that she wordlessly concurred, but it wasn't unexpected. After all, her only reason she had to explain her stunt was how she yearned to know to experience the thrill of falling for once - an idle thought that honestly, was out of place, but it was part of her scheme of things to have her decisions a bit jarring for most.

"Please tell me a good reason for this...." Cynthia muttered, terror spreading through her lilac fur, and Edith was adamant that it wan't just the exceed's hair that was standing end to end. "Well?"

"Ehehe...I...may have...kinda...well...you know-" a cough, "...been a little too experimental I guess, ahaha...~"

"...."

There was an echo amongst the rustle of tress, and if one listened closely, it sounded like the trill of a maiden who'd been unceremoniously hit by something with great strength behind it, quickly fading into loud, angry grumbles that had been blurred out by a consistent flapping sound.


At the heart of desert village was a notification board, and just the mere sight of it from afar was enough to spring energy into her spirit, prompting her to take haste as she rattled down the streets at a rapid clip. With little regard for whatever she'd get her hands on, Edith scrambled for the nearest piece of paper, just about arm's reach. The piece of paper was smooth, foldings from age non-existent, implying that it had only just been posted, perhaps several hours ago. Delighted as she was to find something fresh to compose most of her day, it seems that it wasn't just her fancy alone, but someone else's, too, both being snared by a job involving thieves. Grueling, nonetheless, but not foreign to wizards whose menial tasks involved using their magics to extract criminals.

Edith blinked twice at the older man, her small build visibly dwarfed by his shadow alone. She gulped, unable to narrow down the emotion he harbored behind the large shades.

"Um." is what she says, almost in unison to his own blabber. She shook her head, prying courage from the depths of her throat.

"...So, uh, mister, you're gonna shoot for this one too?"

In light of her question, Edith would briefly mull over a number of options, where the idea of running away with the paper became a consistent thematic in between each one. Though the image of Ria's disappointed face and her exceed's continuous yapping coincidentally muddled into the mix, stopping her from any attempt at spontaneity.

"...Cool, cool." she mumbled, unable to comprehend a legit response to the situation, and instead settled on waiting for whatever the man had to say in return.

The blonde archer watched the man fumble about with a stare lit by sparks of curiosity, her temple creasing as she arched an eyebrow to his small moment of hesitance, faltering backward rapidly as if deeming Edith as far more suitable for the odd job. His movements were largely confusing, but the little Fleur was no stranger to adult decisions, so there was little complaint spilling from her lips as the older man withdraws, nothing but a gesture of farewell to mark his retreating tracks. She'd tilt her head, a light flutter to her steps as she raised her head to read the words that were scrawled out haphazardly unto paper. Mentions of fire, as blunt as they were, was more than simple allure for the girl, but it seemed good enough as kindle material for her interest.

Then, a tick and tack and click replayed over a rapid succession sent her attention elsewhere, the mister with a puff of blue hair hurrying back to his previous place in little under a few seconds. For an adult with an appearance that left a lot to be desired, his speed was admirable, regardless if the archer's body bent backward like a tense bowstring from the shock generated by the older man's actions.

Breathless seemed to become a short thematic to his persona as the man asked Edith of her rank, and, despite the thrill of wizardy existing in her head, she could hardly boast of any on-the-job experience, where the majority of her battles consisted of sparse hunting fiasco and her regular training routines with Ria - all of which were nothing compared to the bravado of real world scuffles.

Edith stiffened, a sheepish scratch to her cheek as she registered the mister's words with grim clippings of truth to them, "Well...uh..y-yeah...haha....I knew that." she said, the scribbles bearing the descriptions of C-ranked targets and hence, a general C-rank to compliment the odd job's difficulty. "I'm no better than a newbie at this whole wizard thing, to be honest, so...err.."

The little Fleur instinctively yanked the job paper from its safe housing on the request board, its material tearing and folding slightly under her grip. She'd have outstretched her vacant hand, her fingers small, but her resolve hardly dwarfed by it, "50/50 and we got ourselves a deal, aye?" the archer grinned, her voice acting like a steady invitation, "I'm Edith, by the way. And before we get ourselves scorched, what would you like to be called, mister?"

From her back shuffled the noise of mewling, a pair of lavender wings spreading in a yawn as Thia recoiled from her napping position, her head unraveling the lazy knot at the mouth of her string bag.

"...I feel like crap." the exceed mumbled, her choice of words unfitting for her cuddly exterior. Thia's glare is later directed to the older man, an expression of confusion passing her face before the purple fluff opted to crawl back into the comforting confines of Edith's bag, "...Whatever your planning, Ede, leave me out of it."

To abandon the bag at a random road side was indefinitely tempting, but was hardly a practice of a little girl, much less one raised by Ria, who had been an ethical lady for as far as her time could tell. The blonde archer huffed a sigh, waving a hand in dismissal of her pet's behavior, "Don't mind her, she can get cranky at the worst times."

This person was...intriguing, not at all in a superficial way, but his level of curiosity reached far beyond face value alone. Perhaps there was little to be said in reference to his appearance, but the more information was leaked, the more was his character beginning to flesh out, which had its own fair amount of charm in the most mundane details - the state of his arms, particularly, and the origin of his nickname further encroached some sort of drive in her little blonde head to know more about the mister with floofy hair, which was only further complimented by the strange delay between his response and her handshake.

Perhaps his upbringing dictated something different, though the little Fleur knew very little of the surrounding cultures that littered Ishval, hence the limited wiggle room for her to assume. As opposed to dotting too much on it, however, Edith would have deftly played along, both their arms bouncing up and down to an indefinite rhythm.  

"Mr. Twigs it is then! Course, if you don't like the informality, we can settle for Mr. Atsu too." she said, her grin wide and enthusiastic, "In return, you can call me Ede, it's my go-to nickname nowadays, or any other weird name you've got up your sleeve, I don't mind."

The friendly handshake, which was starting to get oddly extensive, came to a stop as Atsu addressed the existence of the odd job request and what their actual objective was to begin with, much less their destination. At the drop of his hand, Ede proceeded to examine the objective layered out in detail over the fine material of her scrunched up piece of paper.

"Says something about a Desert Cartel, has all the directions printed in too." scanning downward, the blonde archer fought back a triumphant little chuckle, "And we're busting thieves for stealing crates of lacrimas when we get to their HQ. Sounds good, right Mr. Twigs?"

Edith edged one hand forward, pointing east as she eyed the make-shift road that swiveled into a small juncture between two adjacent houses, the road visibly narrowing at the end. "The notes point that-a-way." she said, jerking her body forward with slight haste, excitement tangible from the grin on her face, "So here we gooooooooo!"

Sand was a curious thing, the little slayer would conclude, the curve of her boot digging into a soft mound that settled at her feet. It scattered and whizzed as she braved a kick, the bounce in her pace absorbed by the desert surface that caused her steps to appear slow and languid. In spite of the rough nature of sand, Edith harbored a wordless attraction to its flow, easily comparable to the ebb and throb of the human world where time governed everything, how humans were gracefully stuck knee-deep into the rush of things. It was an unavoidable circumstance of being mortal, as Ria thought her, to be pulled and thinned out by time as it pleased. Human lifelines were unfortunately wistful and brief as the flutter of sand itself.

'Death is not to be feared.' the voice of her mistress would repeat in her head, the words becoming a memory ingrained into her brain. 'Much like flowers, humans live fleeting existences, which is why mortality calls for each day to be spent wisely.' she said.

The little Fleur would bundle her arms behind her, a questioning expression making home atop her small face as she eyed the wreckage a few meters ahead. She'd watch the older man tread his way to the solitary cart that tumbled over its wheels, where a litter of merchandise told a story of an ambush, though the danger implied was albeit indistinct for the blonde slayer. The cart's outline was a better, sharp contrast to the blurring horizon of the Forgotten Deserts, and it drew her attention almost instinctively. Had it not been for the look that Atsu spared her, along with his choice of words, she'd have already aided in the investigation with her own flare of enthusiasm.

"Oh?" she mumbled, tilting her head one way as if to manage even the slightest glimpse of what dictated the mister to usher her away from it. "I'm not sure what you're hiding Mr. Twigs, but if its anything, I'm sure I can-"

A rough, whizzing sound akin to the rapture of the sandy surface from below would all but invade the space they occupied, revealing a man who'd sport an impressive build that had an arm slung against Atsu's person. His face was largely marred by sweat and sand, and, if at all, a great ounce of smugness to compliment his condescending voice. 'Bandits.' she mumbled, an irate crease appearing atop her brow in her anger. Having resolved to a hostage - she'd have been warned in the past that there many sort of humans, some balancing on the lowest of moral compasses even. In her face was a grand example of how diverse human culture was, though it was anything but irksome to deal with at that point.

Edith bit at her lower lip, her dominant hand twitching from the stinging urge to brandish Luciole. It would have been easy to dispose of the man should she give herself the liberty of undoing her restraints when a chance at battle was presented...but the little Fleur couldn't afford to have the floofy-haired mister gain any sort of harm if they were to manage the rest of the cartel - which, she assumed, was the group that governed this motley crew of bandits as well.

"Tch."

Their numbers would drastically increase with a pop of more sand, scratching irritably at her skin as the others retract from their choice of hiding spot. Their weapons, particularly the blades, appeared to be of seemingly unimpressive caliber, though they still boasted a shine in the bandits' taunt against Ede, sneers aimed at her and her small figure which was always subject to belittling.

The slayer managed to slither her arm half-way down her waist, Luciole's ornate handle inviting a draw at the touch of her fingertips. Though she quickly withdrew from her idea of war when Atsu proposed they follow along, earning him a confused shade of blue to stare back at him. Surely now...he didn't mean to simply succumb to it?

Her eyes narrowed lightly, mulling over the possibility that perhaps it was a fluke and that he was one to have hidden motives. She would admit that he presented a sketchy atmosphere about himself, but so was the aura of wisdom that came with years.

'Trust your elders.' Ria would tell her, though it'd appear rude to label the mister as an elder. Instead, the little Fleur fabricates an expression of worry, her smile withering as if in fear, paying her respects to Atsu's decision by playing along...dramatically.

"P-please...don't hurt me...!" she screamed, the trill in her voice cracking as she crumpled to her knees, "I...I'll d-do anything you want...mister...just please...d-don't hurt me..."

The majority of the men appeared to be pleased with her whimpering reaction, one even taking the liberty of producing a string of rope from his pocket with a flick of agreement from the burly man who clung ever tight to Atsu's person. He'd have bowed down to her level, urging her arms back with a harsh tug. The material of the rope was rough and bumpy against the skin of her wrist, and she did her best to put up the impression of wincing to better seal in her act.

"You've got a pretty nice sword there, missy." the man cooed, sliding a finger down the length of Luciole's sheathe. A vein began to pop in her head as she grimaced, disgusted by the fact that another hand dare lay a mark on her Luciole. Edith swallowed the vile in her throat that threatened to spill from her lips, pleading her voice to keep the helpless tone, lest she burst in anger.

"...T-that's...my father's...!" she pleaded, making her lip quiver as she offered the bandit a begging expression, "A-anything...sir...anything...but the sword...! I don't...even know...h-how to use it...m-mister..."

"Oh..." he said, "True...your figure ain't too fit to use such a big sword..."

Something clicked in his head as he eyed the slayer's form from top to bottom, the emotion in his eyes quickly shifting into something far more primal than expected. It almost coaxed an unpleasant reaction from her, the thought of generating flames right there and then slithering into her mind for a brief fraction of a second, which only flared out as the man dared to hoist her unto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"This one's mine boys! Hands off!"

Opting to stay limp to avoid any further danger, Edith immediately quells her plan to release her flames then, blinking back at the older man from beneath the shadow of her cap.

'Did I do well Mr. Twigs?' her expression seemed to ask, unsure if this was the sort of outcome that he devised in the first place.

The angle provided by the position she'd been hauled into by her captor proved to become a nuisance in the long run, the curved slope of her back now tingling in a low, crinkling ache. The sharp features on Ede's face appeared to be underneath the influence of grimace and a distinct, almost tangible feeling of provocation that had her eyes a lit in impatience, teeth sinking into her lower lip, albeit irritably, as she pictured the triumphant face that her captor might've bore in those short moments.

What a pretentious fellow.

In her head, it'd take minimum effort to bend a knee and deliver a kick to the bandit's scarcely protected chest, as if in reminder to deal with hostages more efficiently, lest she allow her patience to thin even further - an ending that both parties could easily regret. Despite how making things go boom was her specialty, achieving a premature climax hardly seemed appropriate in the steady scheme of things, and that much she could understand. Wiggling a bit in the bandit's grasp, the little Fleur takes notice of the approving gesture that her older comrade would send her, having both their captors sharing a barbaric conversation in set pace.

It may have been a tiny, trivial response to others, but Ede could feel her enthusiasm manifesting from that sign of approval - now a slow, boiling heat pulsing through the caverns of her heart, pumping to the rhythm of adventure up ahead.

It was okay, she thought, to admit that her happiness was shallow enough to have her frustrations disperse with a slight stretch of a thumb, where even the smallest of smiles began to exist atop her lips, the livid expression she harbored earlier almost ceasing entirely.

That's right...with the desert sun shining well into its peak, it was impossible to not to think of fire burning relentlessly across a scatter of bandits, and the little slayer joyfully made sure to realize those thoughts as they load into a dark, dusty wagon, travelling far into the sandy dunes.


Because of her spontaneity at times, Edith has little tolerance for the mundane, and when it occurred to her that a horse-drawn wagon was their mode of transport across a barren, formless environment, she prepared herself to undergo an intense wave of both boredom and restlessness prior to their arrival at the bandit headquarters.

As a response to the impeding bore, the slayer opted to retreat into her own thoughts, mulling over random subjects like the possible ways of busting down a door should her captor decide to enslave her in a locked room, or how the bandit wagon looked like it'd fall apart from the sheer weight of those who boarded it, or how horse sounded like it was dying along the way, making her both pity and emphasize with the poor thing.

'I feel you, horsey.' she mused, somehow sinking into an idle thought that maybe the horse was telepathic when the wagon jolted with the horse's abrupt movements.

Just thinking of it, too, made her wonder if the desert air was trying to kill her sanity.


Regardless of the uneventful trek to their base, the bandits managed themselves quite an impressive space of shelter among the dilapidated remains of what appeared to be an abandoned city, the thrive of the civilization having long left the foundations to a bunch of stingy men and their equally stingy schemes.

Having had her hands bound in a knot of rope, Ede complied to the long and bothersome procession through their headquarters that would stretch deeper into the heart of the city ruins, taking a mental note of the hoards of shadowy figures that weaved through the columns every now and then, dusty, red-eyed faces watching them with curiosity. She doubted the possibility of the bandits not scavenging the place for loot before branding it as their territory, and would slowly come to conclusion that pilfering, perhaps, was a function closest to breathing for these type of men.

She sneered.

Then, their numbers would dwindle and the tension would escalate dramatically among those who were left behind, which was only ever them, the hostages, and the two who hung unto their binds. With the way her captor spoke of 'talking' to the little Fleur, the call to respond first was slowly beginning to rear its voice - especially then, after Atsu quickly braved the seconds to deliver her a go signal to commence...whatever the hell she was supposed to do.

And by the gods, Ede already had a clear, vindictive malice dangling above her captor's head that she so desperately wanted to pursue.


The sound of struggle is a classic opening to a scene that parents often didn't want the little kiddies to see, and Ede did her very best, mind you, to uphold the tradition by containing a strangled, helpless tone of voice as her body is forcibly tossed into a cold, empty room with a single roll of foam over to one side.

She'd feel a single gloved hand make a bee-line for her waist, latching unto Luciole's embroidered scabbard with an urgency, "Annddd, you won't be needing this ole hunk 'a junk." he said, prying it from its place on her belt before moving to place it somewhere beyond her instinctive reach.

He even had the nerve to unsheathe the blade, prompting her teeth to grind against themselves, her fingers ensuing a soft yet distinguishable snap as soon as the bandit chose to turn his back, beginning a monologue in wholesome, ignorant bliss.

"Kids these days, being allowed by their parents to run around with weapons they can't even use." he shrugged, discarding his headscarf in the process, "Let me tell ya kiddo, the real world ain't fun, and if your mommy or daddy encouraged you to take a breather outdoors, well ya better tell them they were wrong."

He'd pull at the material of his cloak, undoing the knot and leaving it to the dust before casting one, predatory glance to the little Fleur who sat innocently atop the floor, "Since you'll be begging for them to come help you once I'm done with-"

"Don't you ever stop talking? God. I get it." she barked, visibly tired with her facade and the bandit's smartass drawl that left an unpleasant taste in her mouth, "It's no wonder you're so thirsty mister, women would've been repelled by your weird accent."

The bandit appeared to contract a strange case of blood clot as a fine line bulged over his temple in response to Ede's choice of words, "Why you little piece of sh-!"

"Shh!" she interjects, a second time, her hands somehow broken free of the binds after fiddling with the weak knot, now having been able to press a finger to her lips in a silencing gesture, "Not in front of the kids!"

"What the...and how did you-?!"

The man made a face that implied he was catching unto the slayer's musings, his face red with anything but passionate heat as he felt his eye twitch in response, "Ya'll regret this ya little wench!" he barked, drawing the scimitar that sat at his hip and brandishing it against her.

Edith snapped her finger twice in her sparse moment of apprehension, once to form an aconite blossom in her hand, and twice to properly place another atop her captor's head.

"I regret nothing!"

Her fingers crinkle into a ball as she hauls herself backward, bracing an impact to come from casting that particular spell. The crushing motion she delivered to the imitation flower in her hand caused a burst of fire to swallow her target whole, ensuing a low groan of pain to leave the man's lips as soon as the flames extinguish, revealing a body covered in soot and a funny, burnt expression on his face. His hair is fried into an black afro, and patches of his clothes still had fire burning holes into them.

Needless to say, despite the fire being significantly weak enough to not burn him completely, the shock of it caused her captor to fall limp unto the floor, stilling into an unconscious heap of charred mass, though it'd be more accurate to say he looked like burnt toast.

'That's one down.' she nodded to herself, snatching Luciole away from its place on the ground, giving the sheathe a protective polish before slinking the blade into her belt, where it belonged.

'Let's go see how Mr. Twigs is doing!'