Pretty Thieves (AU Francess & AU Cassandra)
A two-story, brick building stood on a quiet corner in Lincoln Park. Once upon a time, it was a mom-and-pop pharmacy. It kept its working soda fountain for over fifty years. A small apartment upstairs housed the pharmacist, who inherited the profession and business from his father. He was lost in the 2013 disaster. Recently, the building was renovated for the market. The developers tried to keep its original charm, but in a market dominated by chains stores, it would be tough to sell it as a pharmacy.

The fugitives broke in through the back door and used it for a hideout. There were plenty of nooks and crannies for hiding, upstairs and down. Francess stood in a bathroom at the top of the stairs. It was narrow and long with checkerboard tiles and a porcelain sink. Neither the electricity or power worked. She watched her reflection in the mirror and combed fingers through her tangled hair. It was long, nearly to her waist. Several times, she thought to cut it. In their world, fugitives could sell their hair and make a few pennies. She couldn't bring herself to do so, though. People like her had so few vanities. The winter dress was too tattered and faded to be pretty. She had no cosmetics, nor a need to use them.

Fran remembered the slight perfume of her mother's powders, how the puff and talc felt so soft on her nose, her mother's laugh a balm. Arlene didn't know what her daughter was capable of. It was her sister Beatrice who discovered it, Beatrice who told. She chewed her lip and sifted the strands through her fingers.

Cassandra found Francess in the bathroom, pausing in the doorway when she saw the young woman lost in thought, staring into the mirror. As Francess started to try and comb her fingers through her hair Cass stepped in, clearing her throat softly so as not to startle Fran if she hadn't noticed Cass's presence.

Unable to bear children for reasons she would never tell, Cass had grown to look upon Francess with some maternal instincts, keeping an eye out for her and where possible ensuring she was protected from the less savory elements their group encountered, and attracted at times. Her healing skills were called upon by the group, not only for injuries suffered at the hands of the Inquisition, but also from the wrath of a public whose hatred and fear of anything they didn't regard as pure human caused them to try and destroy anyone who might be different.

"Here, let me help," she said softly, her fingers lifting the long hair and gently combing through the ends to remove the tangles, working carefully up the length. "How are you feeling now?" she asked, looking over Francess's shoulder at her reflection in the mirror. She had been exhausted when she'd finally returned from her 'scouting mission' and Cassandra had left her to sleep while searching out the premises they had chosen to use as their refuge. "Did you rest well?"

Francess gave a small smile into the mirror and shrugged. "A little." Sleep was full of dreams, and those she hated. They were so similar to her etheric state and yet, unlike the other, completely beyond her control. Sometimes, nightmares scared her so badly that she left her body and did a strange, directionless dreamwalk, which left her disoriented afterwards. "I dreamed that they burned our building down," she said. She turned on the dried-up faucet. She imagined the luxury of cold, clear water running into her cupped palm.

Francess knew the Inquisition thought her less than human. She also knew they'd forgive her if she submitted to their purging process. She couldn't bring herself to do so. One never forgot how badly it hurt to be spoken to as if she were dirt. She wanted no part of it, no part of them, and no chance she might become like them. "They won't like it here. There are too many others like us. I saw them when I traveled." She closed her eyes. The soft pull of another person's hand in her hair lulled her into calm. Cassandra was a caretaker and always gentle, not like the vampires, who sometimes (despite intentions to the contrary) became rough when they bit for blood. It was in the predatory nature.

Cass listened to Francess talk of the dreams, and the others of this world she had seen on her flight, interested that there were so many of their own kind around. Could they have actually arrived somewhere that would be safer than their own dimension? Was it possible the fates had allowed them through to a world that didn't hate them to the point of hunting them constantly, killing those who refused to have their very essence stripped from them, simply to make them the same as those who hated, feared them?

Her fingers continued to untangle Francess's hair, working up the length to her scalp. When she reached it she divided the hair into three section and started to braid it. "Do you feel up to helping me look for some supplies? I know others are already looking, but I would like to see if I can find some different things, things they won't think to look for." There was also the fact that they may not possibly exist in this dimension, though she was hopeful. Some of the herbs and other things she used were difficult to come across in their own world so she had no idea what she might find there.

Fran opened her eyes. "I'd like to go for a real walk," she said. It might not be safe, but she hadn't left her world to be cloistered away in an old building forever. "Cass, what if they don't return? If they find others and leave us here?" Fear of neglect was often worse than fear of capture. Her hidden shame was that Fran feared finding safety here in equal measure to being caught. If they were safe, the group would disband, and she wasn't sure she could care for herself in a foreign place.

She looked at her fingernails. "I haven't any money, nor skills to make some. Do you think they have servants here?"

Finishing the braid, Cass pulled a ribbon from inside one of her pockets, deftly tying it to fasten the end. "We will find new friends, and a place we can learn the ways of this world, and what we can do with our gifts, to help those who help us, and even those who don't," she told Francess reassuringly. In the months the two had known one another, Cassandra had seen the fear in the girl's eyes, how they widened with fright at the mere suggestion she would be alone, even when it was just for the time the others were doing things and she was 'flying'. Cassandra had always tried to make sure Fran's corporeal body had remained within reach, within her sight when she left it, so she knew when she returned to it she was not alone.

"You are an excellent assistant, and I don't think I could have done as much for the others if I hadn't had you to help me, to find those things I needed at times so the others could fetch them for me." She laid her hands on Francess's shoulders as she continued to speak, her voice a soft, warm touch to Francess's hearing. "You are very strong, and can help in so many ways that anyone would be blessed to have you in their household, be it as a servant, or mistress of the mansion," she told her without hesitation. Her fingers tightened gently for a moment as Cass straightened, eyes still on Francess's, then after a small nod turning to look out the door and down the stairway.

"Come, let's go and see what we can find, shall we?" she said, her tone now a little more matter-of-fact and smiling.

"Thank you," she said, in gratitude for the braid and making her feel less pitiful. Occasionally, she felt very pitiful, and hated herself for it. In daydreams, Fran imagined herself as some kind of warrior. Once or twice, she considered asking Ruben or another vampire to turn her, just so she could have their strength, but the idea of feeding on people nauseated her.

Rallying her spirits, Francess gathered her skirts and followed Cass down the narrow staircase in the back of the building. They could exit from the rear door into an alleyway and not give away their hideout. They slipped out in near silence. "I saw two young girls walk by today," she whispered. "Alone... without escort! Can you imagine such freedom? Their dresses came up above their knees! I should like a new dress someday, but I don't think one so short, even if it is their custom."

"Yes, indeed, and what would I do for pockets?" Cassandra answered, smiling at Francess as she took the young woman's hand as they made their way along the alley and out onto the street. There were decidedly fewer people in this area than they had reported were in others and she wondered if it was anything to do with the strange energy she felt in her bones. It was faint, but it was there, and she had no idea what it was.

"If we could find some gardens we might be able to find some of what I would like to have on hand," she said to Francess as they walked in the early morning pre-dawn light. "And now is the best time to search as the day's sun hasn't yet woken them, and they're best picked now." She talked a little more about what they were searching for, mainly to give Francess something to focus on, something to sooth her as they walked through the foreign and unfamiliar streets. Still so many buildings around them stood vacant, something that was puzzling in itself.

"It is an unusual place, this one. Chicago," she mused as they rounded a corner and saw a newly landscaped park.

"I once lived in a real neighborhood," Francess said. "There were houses and cobblestone streets and enormous old oaks." She lifted her arms overhead, imitating their branches. The memory of her childhood home was so vivid, she smelled honeysuckle when she thought of it. It grew on the back fence. When she was small -- no more than five -- her siblings picked it for her and dribbled the honey flavor on her tongue. "I could climb better than anyone except my brother." That ability to stretch her long limbs and climb or run came in handy later on.

"Did you grow up in such a place?" she asked Cassandra.

"Not quite like this," Cassandra answered, smiling benignly. Her upbringing had been in the highlands of Scotland, the clan she'd been a part of one that had been in feud with another for more than three generations. When her family learned of her abilities they were worried, believing it made her a target. Hiding her abilities, her father secretly made arrangements for her to be taken into the household of the lord who bought the game her father caught for him.

"But it was very nice," she added, crossing the road to the park. "Oh, feel the grass!" she said, slipping her feet from the soft leather slippers she had on her feet and walking on the soft green ground cover. "Did your brother have any special gifts?" she asked as she spun around, her arms out from her body, the long skirts flying out as she turned.

Francess imitated the witch by taking off her ankle boots. The grass tickled the soles of her feet. "No, neither him nor my sister," she said, picking her way through the blades. She feared something sharp. "I didn't think I had a gift, either. It didn't happen until I was thirteen. I used to wander about, nosing into people's secret business," she confessed. She balanced on the enormous roots of a tree. "I never told any private things and I didn't think anyone could see me. Most can't. But Beatrice read my journal."

The bark felt wonderful on the arches of her feet. She inched higher. "She was angry because I admitted to snooping on her and a boy. She told. I don't think she understood what would happen." Francess reached up and touched a branch with her fingertips. "Do you have siblings?"

"Not any more, no," Cassandra answered as she kept up her movement on the grass, the soft cool energy of the grass feeling a little ticklish but delightful nonetheless. "My brothers died in battle and my sister was taken away, accused of sorcery, and my mother and father never heard from her again. Oh they tried to find her, but there was little in the way of information, and the Inquisition wasn't really concerned with their rights."

It had been a long time ago yet Cassandra still felt a small pang of loss, wishing things had been different, that her sister had been spared, and if necessary for her to take her sister's place. Seeing the agony on her mother and father's faces had been almost too much for her to bear.

"Oh, look! Some lavenesh!" she exclaimed with delight, the spears of soft purple flowers rising up from the grey green leaves of the bush that bore it. She moved across to the raised garden bed and knelt, gently stroking the leaves of the plant as she spoke softly in a tongue that was unknown to most and as ancient as the hills from which she came. She finished her prayer of gratitude to the plant and gently picked some of both the flowers and the leaves, placing them in one of her pockets, a cone of paper already tucked inside to receive them.

The aroma that rose from the stems was sweetly pungent and Cass inhaled it, closing her eyes for a moment and relishing the familiar scent. "Something that's the same," she murmured, feeling a sense of relief that at least some things might be of use and she may be able to help more than she might without the aid of the plants. "This is a good sign indeed!"

Curious, Francess lifted her skirt and tiptoed into the landscaped area. "It's pretty," she said. She leaned down and tucked her nose within the petals. "What's it for?" She flattened her palm and ran her hand over the blossoms, careful not to injure them. Her favorite flowers were tulips. As a kid, she drew them to look sawed and pointy at the top and was surprised to later learn they were soft. She bunched her dress between her knees and crouched alongside Cassandra. "Is it for teas?"

"You can make tea, yes, and it's excellent as such. It helps sooth the nerves, and helps with sleep, especially when used in a massage oil. But most often I have found it helpful for wounds, to aid in healing," she explained to Francess, showing her one of the flower spikes still on the plant. "It is one of the most useful plants and I am so pleased to have found it, for if there were one plant I could wish for it would be this." Cassandra stroked her hand lovingly over the leaves of the small bushes from which she'd plucked the flowers, smiling gently before looking up at Francess. "Come, let's look further and see what else there might be."

Balancing on the balls of her feet, Francess stood and went in search of other flowers. Her braid was a heavy rope on her shoulder. She wasn't sure what to look for, but liked having the distraction. Once in a while, automobiles went by, and she looked up to watch their progression in the bluish morning light, most of them contractors going to work on the old homes. Even an aeroplane flew overhead.

"Cass, I want to go swimming," she confessed. Francess stared eastward, where she had heard there was a lake. "Do you think we could, when it's dark and no one could see? We could ask one of the others to stand guard."

Looking up from where she had found some aloe plants, Cass paused. While not identical to what she was used to, the plants were of the same family from what she had deduced and felt, and she carefully harvested two of the broad, thick, juice-laden stems. She wrapped the exposed ends in a piece of paper then bound it with cloth before slipping it into another of her pockets.

"We can ask," she told Francess, not wanting to promise something she was not sure she could deliver to the young woman. "Perhaps Sonya may agree to accompany us, and she would be able to keep watch. We could do the same for her if she wished it also." While the building they had found was relatively clean and secure there was no water and Cassandra wondered how long it would be before this caused problems. "And that reminds me, we must see if we can find some pails, or something to use as such, and fetch water. I will need it to prepare some tonic, and also some tea for those who so desire." She knew the simple act of preparing the tea would be a challenge in itself. The heating of the water was not so much an issue, but the simple receptacle to hold it and serve it was not something she could conjure, unlike the heat which she could bring forth by holding a cup.

"Alright." She scratched her elbow and continued to look eastward. Francess was a cautious sort. She never went wandering alone (unless in an astral state), and knew that considering it was reckless. Yet she made up her mind that she would swim, no matter if anyone stood guard or not. It could be an adventure, the first she allowed herself in years. She refrained from telling Cass, knowing the protective woman would disapprove.

"We could see if the eateries have old containers," she suggested. "Perhaps they throw jugs or buckets away once they're emptied. We could check their garbage, or even ask."

"Yes, that's a good idea," she agreed, patting her pockets before she reached the pavement. Putting her shoes back on her feet she looked up and down the street, the area stretching away from them looking more commercial than residential. Despite this, there was no indication as to which business might be in business, given how underpopulated the area seemed to be. It was an unusual place, some of the premises showing no sign of occupation, and others appearing to be newly established. And again Cassandra could sense a strange residual energy that felt out of sorts, as though much pain and anguish had been experienced here, but not for a long while. And although it had been a while, there had been very little in the way of healing done for those who'd suffered.

With an underlying sense of discomfort she moved along the streetscape, looking from storefront to storefront for somewhere that may have something they could use. A loud backfire sounded from the mouth of an access lane a few doors down and a delivery truck lumbered into view, turned into the street away from them and belched another cloud of smoke and exhaust into the air as it slowly accelerated down the relatively deserted street.

"Maybe we should take a look down there," Cassandra suggested, wondering if perhaps there was more activity at the rear of the buildings as people prepared for the day's business.

Fran's bootlaces weren't as tight as she liked, but she kept up with Cass and hurried to peep around the corner. "There's been a delivery, from the looks of it." She saw a stack of boxes beside a door, and a thin man in his twenties carrying them inside one at a time. Just inside the door, a narrow set of steps led into a basement level, which explained any reluctance to use a hand-truck. "What do you suppose they are? Groceries?" Ever imagining, Fran pictured the contents to be fresh vegetables and fruits, or frozen turkeys, when they might've been boxes of books, for all she knew. Letting her imagination run wild often led to bitter disappointments.

"I hope they're whole cantaloupes!" she whispered. "Even if we do need jugs."

Cass couldn't help but smile at Francess, putting a hand on her arm to calm her for just a moment. "I cannot tell from here, but from the looks of the store they look like boxes of ... " She paused, frowning as she stared at the unmarked cardboard cartons, trying to detect what they held. There was nothing coming back to her, no energy of any type, signifying there was little or no natural substance in there. "I don't know!" she declared, a tiny hint of frustration in her tone. She had hoped that if it wasn't food it would be something useful, but she hadn't ever felt such a lack of any sort of energy before, her curiosity being piqued slightly.

She crept forward, eyes watching in the doorway for the return of the young man, but as she reached the open entrance she could hear him down in the basement, things being moved around. She darted across the doorway and laid a hand on the door, the other on the top of the carton, closing her eyes for a brief moment and murmuring something before picking up the flap on top of the box, tugging it up to see what was inside. The box moved, being surprisingly very light for its size, and she peered inside, trying to see what it was.

Rows and rows of strange shapes were tucked inside, Cass's head angling to one side then the other as she tried to figure out what they were. What she did know is they were definitely not edible, but the white shapes were unidentifiable to her. She poked a finger in, her nail leaving a dent in the surface she touched and she tugged the lid a little higher. She could see they were at least dish-shaped, and decided they would be better than nothing when it came to preparing her lotions and teas. Again she murmured some words as she struggled to tug the box open, the soft cardboard giving way and allowing her to withdraw a handful of what were now clearly some sort of strange tray that folded on itself. "How odd!" she said as she handed them to Francess and tugged out a few more for herself. They weighed next to nothing and as she and Francess hurried away around the corner, the footsteps on the stairs signaling the return of the young man, she studied them.

It was an odd thing to have stolen, but people who scavenged for their livelihood took whatever goodies came their way and made uses for them. The styrofoam takeout containers were no exception, though neither Francess nor Cassandra could know their name or purpose.

Francess poked her stack of white, airy boxes with a thumbnail and gasped. "Oh, no! I've damaged mine!" She showed the indentation to her friend and lamented it. "Do you think they might be valuable?" If so, perhaps they could trade them for food or clothing. Gently, she folded hers in half and noticed there was a latch. "It's a box!" She examined it from all angles, the others being kept carefully beneath her arm. She wondered what valuables people kept in such delicate confines. Yarn, maybe.

"Oh, I do wish it had been food." Fran touched her stomach, which was hollow and often noisy.

Pausing around the corner they had taken refuge behind, Cassandra studied the containers a little more closely, closing one of hers in the same fashion as Francess and feeling a little more delight at the object now she'd seen it properly. "Oh these are perfect!" she declared, "at least for preparing some of my lotions," she added as Francess's stomach complained again, this time audibly.

"Come, let's see what else we might find," she said to Francess. "There are stores on the other side, and perhaps they have deliveries at this time too. We may be lucky and find something to eat - perhaps we can leave some of these in exchange?"

Francess nodded her agreement, thinking that was a good idea. As they walked toward the storefronts, she carefully realigned her air-boxes. "Do you think they have homeless here?" The neighborhood around them suggested a housing abundance, if anything. It didn't give her much hope, but still Francess said, "They might have free kitchens." On the home world, there were places were hungry humans could get food and drink from sympathetic neighbors. Few catered to the supernatural, but when clean, she blended well enough to pass for pure. A few nights were spent with a full belly because of those places.

Others, who feared extending such a gesture, tossed their rubbish outside with extra food in it. They didn't call the authorities when it was rummaged. They mused that it was 'animals' to relieve themselves of guilt for aiding the enemy. "We could ask, in a parish, maybe."

"We could, and hopefully in the reconnaissance they're doing, the others will find some places like that for us to visit." As they crossed the road and headed down another small access lane to the rear of the stores there, she felt her own stomach cramp a little with hunger. "It would be good to have a meal, the transfer seems to have stopped me feeling hungry till now," she admitted. The 'trip' had been more than a little disorienting to her energy and she had busied herself when they'd arrived with doing things she normally did to help ground herself again. Now she was grounded, especially having been able to find some grassed area and connect, her metabolism was kicking back in again. She hoped they could find something to eat, or something she could use to trade for food. Often the medicines and lotions she made she had been able to trade for food and other things, many people willing to use what she could make, but not willing to accept her in fear of retribution from the Inquisitors.

She signaled to Francess to pause as she stopped at the end of the access lane, slowly craning her neck to peer round the corner and see what was there.

Francess leaned around the corner, too. "Look, there is a market!" she whispered. As the doors whooshed open, a woman left the grocery with cloth bags. A loaf of bread stuck out of one. "We could go inside and find some potatoes or apples. I have pockets." Francess stuck her free hand into one. Having not picked any plants, hers were empty and could carry a few pieces of food, which they could split.

She wet her lips and looked at Cassandra. "If anyone comes, you can distract them while I take the food. We'll leave one of my trays behind for payment." Stealing was a way of surviving (and they had already done a bit of it today), but Fran wanted to start off on a good foot in the new world, if she could. "What do you say?"

Cassandra nodded and the two of them entered the store. As Francess moved down one aisle Cass kept an eye out, moving toward where a door led out the back, to what appeared to be the preparation area. She noticed Francess selecting some things, slipping them into her pockets, and secreted away two juicy apples herself. One of the advantages of having long skirts and petticoats was the abundance of pockets. Just as she was inspecting an orange, a man pushed his way suddenly through the clear, plastic flaps that acted as doors.

Quickly, she drew him to the other side of the door, her hand slipping into his pocket when she saw a large gash on his forearm, the wound obviously done that morning but not dressed. "Oh, my, that looks like it needs attention," she said, taking his arm gently and inspecting the gash. He started to withdraw it automatically but found himself leaving it there, the touch of her hand light, but not releasing.

"It's nothing," he said gruffly, frowning at Cassandra's strange clothing but then disregarded it as, after all, he was in Lincoln Park and the place didn't have a lot that was what could be called regular as regulars.

"No, it needs attention," she told him, already feeling the warmth of future infection through his skin. She fished in her pocket that had the aloe and withdrew it, showing it to him. "This is going to help, to clean it and keep it safe," she told him, eyes meeting his as her head angled a little. "You will feel it helping and know it will heal without scarring," she said, her voice having changed in lilt and tone, only really audible to him now. She could see Francess over his shoulder but kept her focus on the man.

In the produce section, Francess kept an eye out for employees. Once certain she wasn't watched, she scooted up an aisle and pocketed tomatoes, pears, and a bunch of grapes. That was all her pockets could hold without bulging. She picked up a plastic container of berries and held it close, so the folds of her skirt obscured it from view. Before she left, she dropped an air-box on the fruit basket in payment. She gestured at Cassandra and darted back outside in the morning sunlight.

With her back against the wall of the market, she waited for the witch to join her. Even though it was rude, she couldn't resist picking a green grape from the stem and cramming it in her mouth. The flavor burst on her tongue. She closed her eyes and relished it, only opening them when an automobile parked and the driver door opened. "Come on, Cass," she whispered, wanting badly to leave before anyone spoke to her. It was bright outside, too, meaning soon it'd be their turn to watch the hideout while the vampires slept.

When the brunette emerged, Francess grabbed her hand and tugged. "Let's go!" she said, jubilant over accomplishment. The sound of their running feet echoed down the narrow street.