[i]The city![/i]

	[i]... Merde! The city![/i]

	[i]Fair Mother of the Hollow Moon's shame globes-- why oh why did it have to be in the city?[/i]

	Jeanne wasn't quite sure what she had intended to do when she finally weaved her way through the shadows in the canopy from the small forest-edge town of Dead Dog Pines to that location Chichi-- and now, from Chichi, [i]she[/i]-- had been instructed to deliver... whatever the hell was in the parcel she had been given. At the present moment, as she leaped from tree to tree in the pale glow of the dying day, she found that she had been transformed from thief turned courier. 

	She didn't normally take jobs like this-- and even though she had offered to help Chichi out, she was herself uneasy when she discovered what it was that Chichi wanted her to do. Typically she'd disagree to performing such a task, it was [i]almost[/i] too close to a legal profession for her to even consider. But... In her mind at the very least, Chichi reminded her of her great uncle, the man who had raised her, and quite frankly, she couldn't turn him down for anything. He was the reason she was as skilled as she was at her art, and he was also the reason she was so comfortable with the constant threats of death from the Dwarf. She could do this for him; like her uncle, Chichi had taught her many tools in the art of theft, along wit constantly threatening to kill her-- just like grunkle! Besides, this was only one delivery! Once she dropped off whatever was in the parcel, they'd release his daughter on the outskirts of Dead Dog.

	She was capable of completing this task... she[i] had[/i] to believe it was within her abilities...

	She [i]had[/i] to.

	[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WaPlDuskJpk][color=white]At the very least, she didn't need to think of all of that right now. Jeanne lost herself in the instinctual speed she could achieve in the woods. Jumping lightly from treetops like a squirrel, she moved fast-- less like the people she found herself living around, constantly both trying to please and simultaneously harm with her profession-- and more like her father's people, an entire race she had, no, [i]would[/i] never meet. With the rise of cities and places like Dead Dog in this region the nomadic Faun who had relied on large expanses of undeveloped trees had naturally fled south, Jeanne was probably one of the few individuals with the horns of an doe this far north. 

	It didn't matter to her though. Or a the very least, she old herself that it didn't matter. That the bark felt natural against her skin, that the world felt so much more comfortable moving at this rate, with a convenience the humans would never quite know by avoiding the roads and simply relying on Pan... [i]a forgotten god's[/i] wisdom to reach her destination-- it didn't matter. Or at least she told herself that she didn't care about these skills. She couldn't deny, not even to herself, though, that they did have their uses. She found that she wasn't particularly fast when running in the streets, and her stamina was below average, for a human and a faun. It would be impossible for her to reach the city from as far away as Dead Dog in a matter of a few hours if she were simply running. 

	Jeanne supposed it was a rather scenic route, as well, she couldn't deny it's beauty. Although, it was a bit absurd when juxtaposed with her 'civilized' human raising. Chichi, just as her Uncle did, professed a preference of what can be used over what others might see as 'socially acceptable.' The weak cerulean sky, with it's mushroom-white, rolling clouds, died down as she traveled. And it gave way to an orange and purple soupy expanse about the jade canopy, Jeanne leapt from goldenrod branch to branch satchel in tow. Many may have seen her as a madwoman (and fewer, unscrupulous individuals may have questioned why she simple didn't steal whatever was in the package and run), to such individuals, she would respond that it was something that came naturally, from a simple performance of parkour to living by a certain code.[/color][/url]

	As darkness fell, Jeanne, too, fell upon the city. A Tavern of Night was all Chichi had given her to go off of, and soon, Jeanne followed several darkly dressed men who, from what Jeanne could hear, badly need a drink, into a back alley Tavern that seemed to exude a palpable miasma of misery. This wasn't a typical upbeat tavern scene, there was no bard, no yelling matches, no joyous laughter... This wasn't quite a bar that people went to forget their troubles, this was a place people went to [i]drown[/i] them. Walking through the door, Jeanne could already see many black market deals taking place between various patrons, mixed in the sea of rouges who actually sought to drown their misfortune in watered-down ale. There were also... several shapely men and women who drew her eye for various [i]other[/i] reasons. She tried not to let her eyes linger, she didn't need the unnecessary attention. Her goal here was simple; deliver the parcel, confirm Chichi's daughter's safety, get the man off her back fr a few months. [i]Very simple.[/i]

	Jeanne kept her head down as she walked over to a chair and observed the inner workings of the candle-lit tavern from inside. As she watched, she wasn't quite nervous in the environment, but more... uneasy. The tavern certainly wasn't lifeless as she had thought walking in, the illicit drug deals, the card games, the narcotics... There was a life that was low-key, very subdued. She felt uneasy because she was surrounded by individuals who were completely better at what she did for a living. [i]Tack simply wouldn't do it here.[/i] She was uneasy because she was surrounded by masters of tack. She realized that she needed to make it obvious to whomever the delivery was to with something that didn't expect. 

	[i]She needed to make a scene.[/i] 

	Jeanne stood. Emphasizing the sway in her hips and the bith of skin exposed by the split in her dress as she walked, earning more than a few whistles for her trouble. She waltzed over to the bar, practically nuzzling, or as close as she could get at her size, from across the bar, the bartender, a burly, no-nonsense looking human. With a dramatic flourish, she plopped the satchel down in front of the bartender and batted her eyes at the man as she practically sang, loud enough to carry through the room, in her accented voice; "Are there any kidnappers here looking for their ransom? if they don't come and get it I might just use it to buy everyone here a drink."