Rohaan hadn't been sure of how Berlin would react to their plan. When they'd visited and told him they had a plan for what would be arguably the biggest heist in history, he simply laughed and said, "Oh ho ho! So you've actually got a [I]plan[/I] for once!" Rohaan rarely ever planned much beyond maybe peeking in through a window, or perhaps watching the changes of guards. A trait that would one day get him killed, Berlin always scolded. But as the [I]isfahaan[/I], the siblings, told him the details of their plan, the old pirate nearly teared up with fatherly pride. 

"Damn if you two really haven't grown up...ah! You've both come so far from picking pockets." It was as if they'd announced they were starting their own business venture, or were betrothed to be married. In a way, one of them sort of was. Gaining Berlin's approval had not been strictly necessary, but to Rohaan at least, it meant the world to him. He learned everything he knew about cons and heists and outright piracy from him, and still considered the old man to be a master at his trade. 

The preparation had taken a while. There was so much groundwork to lay, both materially and socially. Rohaan had spent a lot of time sourcing (stealing) materials for rich clothing for Vequaniel to wear. He insisted the outfits be real and not the work of their telepathic magic, or some other form of illusion. Illusions could be broken, and were tiresome to keep up. Fabric would last. He even made off with a horse and carriage for them, though that proved to be an especially bloody venture. Horses and other animals feared Rohaan, as they did most shifters, and the poor beast bolted in a panic all the way back to their hideout while Rohaan drove the carriage in a drugged stupor from a poisoned blade someone had cut him with in the encounter. He was bedridden for a day and a half after that. But the carriage was repainted so as not to be identified, and the horse was soothed and mostly kept away from Rohaan. Before long, Vequaniel had all the trappings of an upper class socialite. 

There was a reputation to build, too. If the public and the courts were going to believe Vequaniel was some yet-unheard of person of wealth and dignity and standing, then they needed to know of them before meeting them. The pair spread rumors, forged papers, sent gifts, and eventually wrote letters to important people in order to establish them. Now, it was time to put all their hard work to the test. 

Rohaan checked over the carriage one last time, making the horse whinny and stamp and toss her head as he passed. He sighed. "You might want to convince that thing I won't eat it." He Hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the poor beast. "I've got a feeling we'll be...getting to know each other in this venture. Wouldn't do to have you ride into town pulled by a mad horse, now would it?" Rohaan picked something out of his teeth with the small knife he kept in his boot--more of a tool than a weapon. He was practically feral when Berlin found him, and though he'd civilized some as an adult, that wild, animal nature had not wholly left him. Compared to his sibling, he was far more rough, crass, uncouth, and unkempt. He had a dangerous, weathered look about him, and a loose moral compass to match it. 

"Well, you about ready, then?"