Sparrow had been counting through her piling trinkets when the ship lurched forward and sent her flying in the other direction. She rolled backwards and landed heavily against the wall, cradling what she had stolen carefully in her arms.
She had taken
a small pile of coins
two jewel necklaces
a small vial of squid ink
a parakeet feather.
It was a lovely feather, a shade of light green decorated with golden spots. It glistened under sunlight and almost looked surreal.
Jacob would love it and so would the other kids.
“Ow.” She said, rubbing her head as she set her things down. The feather was crushed slightly and she quickly smoothed it out, realizing that if she were to want this feather to last, she’d have to find a place to keep it and in her lap, was not a very good place, especially if the ship she was on had violent tendencies to lurch forward without notice.
She quickly tucked the rest of her trinkets away and headed out, feather in hand, to look for a journal to steal. Why journal? Why not a box or a glass case or something else to hold a feather in? Because she said so and when Sparrow had something set in her mind, change was a word that no longer existed in her mental dictionary.
Taking a casual stroll around the ship, she tried to ignore the noise, but it bothered her. Yes, it made sneaking up on people easy, but what fun was that? The whole point of stealing was test your abilities of deception. Noise cancelled out all sources of deception. What was the fun of that? In her annoyance however, she almost ran into a... giant?
“Oh, sorry.” She muttered as she took a step back to look up at the tallest man she’d ever seen. He loomed over her, an entire foot taller, so tall in fact, that Sparrow almost had to crane her neck to look up at his face.
“Ohhh,” she suddenly giggled. “Jeez, you’re tall.”
A pair of striking green eyes stared down at her and blinked for a moment before he shrugged.
“Or maybe you’re tall and I’m short, how about that?” Sparrow mused, already going through his pockets and to her disappointment, there was no journal. At least not one that she found. “You don’t by chance have a journal on you?”
He squinted at her, obviously somewhat perplexed by this semi-bizarre conversation.
“Shucks.” Sparrow made a face and then strolled off again. She'd have to find someone else.