she's on the rooftop of a half-burned building, balancing delicately on exposed stone. she rolls on the balls of her feet, arms outstretched. her auburn hair spills over her shoulder as her right hand dips and she nearly loses it. nyla looks up from her preening momentarily, but the tenseness in her wings slides away when parker regains her balance (the bird probably would have let her fall anyways). she breathes out, breathes in, and surveys the neighborhood to her left. a fence separates the cozy cookie cutter houses from the less agreeable streets. 

it hasn't done much of a job keeping them out, nyla comments silently. parker agrees. of course it's not going to keep them out. if anything, it's going to invite them in. because if something's worth trying to hide, of course people are gonna try to steal it. and she wouldn't mind being on the receiving end of some of those goods. it's not like those people, with their higher education and fancy technology, really need all of it. you could argue that they're like robin hood--stealing from the rich to give to, well, themselves. 

but she's here to save face. because that's what the coven needs right now. she can save the petty stealing for later. if she manages this, nyla will stop breathing down her neck about the money they owe, and about where they're going to get their next meal. silvertongue watches out for us, she's told her, and the bird has only scoffed, told her that the only people who are gonna watch out for them are themselves. 

parker jerks when she hears a scuffling noise below her, but her swear is cut short when she finds her balance again by gripping the edge of the wall. nyla chuffs in laughter. 

"you kenzie?" parker barks. 

ulla