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Mikha'el; The Foundling
Topic Started: Jun 18 2016, 06:15 PM (38 Views)
Mikha'el
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Mikha'el
Believer
17 years old female
Shoulder length, wavy, reddish-blond hair
Slender, lithe, athletic build, quick footed
Street smart, very dexterous and strong for her size
Anti-social, suspicious and somewhat skittish



Mikha'el hung back at the alley entrance and watched the baker work, through the store window, even as she kept an eye on the street. Any time a Justice or
Templari appeared among the crowd she stepped back, just enough to be unseen among the brightly colored cloths of the textile merchant's booth and the shadowy clutter of the dark litter strewn alley.

Reaching up, she pulled her reddish-blond hair into a pony tail, and tied it with a strap of leather. The smell of the fresh baked bread wafted across the street, making her stomach growl. She watched as the baker laid several loafs on the window ledge to cool.

"Maggie won't like this," her spirit cried. Mikha'el straightened her spine, shoving her shoulders back as a look of determination stole over her face. "No, Maggie wouldn't like it." But, the old lady who had found her on the streets a few years ago, and taken her into her home, humble though it was, was sick, and she needed food.

Discreetly she stretched, and then bounced on her tiptoes. Old habits died hard. Fourteen years of living off the streets, for that matter, fourteen years of surviving on the streets taught you some skills. Those skills didn't disappear just because God sent an angel to rescue her. And God would forgive her. Maggie needed food.

Mikha'el again faded into the shadows as a Justice suddenly appeared at the corner of the booth. The Justice stopped right in front of where she was hiding and stared down into the alley. Mikha'el held her breath, afraid to even breath, then the Justice turned and continued down the street.

"Pay attention!" She berated herself. "You've never been caught, don't start now!"

After another quick look down the road, Mikha'el darted across the busy street, weaving in and out of the people, snatched a loaf of bread of the window sill and bolted, amidst the hail of "Stop, theif!"

As she ran, the sound of boots clomping down the cobblestone after her, she couldn't help but think of the last time she'd done this. She weaved around a couple of booths and shifted down an alleyway.

That had been a handful of beans and a couple of apples. She had stopped to hide in a shadowy doorway, as the Justices had pounded past, again not seeing her. The she screeched as the door behind her opened suddenly, and she tumble ungracefully in the small but clean room of the alley apartment belonging to Maggie.

Maggie was of the Faith. She saw what was going on before Mikha'el even had a chance to speak, and then to her dismay, called the Justice's back to her house, trapping Mikha'el there, short of running the old lady over in her escape.

What happened next boggled her to this day, and reminded her of God's love, something Maggie had introduced her to. Maggie prevented the Justices from arresting her by paying for what she had stolen, out of her meager widow's pension, and then pledging to be responsible for Mikha'el from that point forward.

And she had been. She took Mikha'el in and taught her, by example, the love of God AND his forgiveness.

Snapping back to the present, Mikha'el checked her surroundings. She appeared to have lost the Justices, and so she carefully made her way back to Maggie's house. Gently and quietly she stepped through the doorway and shut the door, being careful not to disturb the sleeping Maggie. Setting the bread on the small table, she turned into the room and stepped over to the dark corner that housed Maggie's sleeping mat, before stopping with a scream on her lips.

The man sitting on the floor on Maggie's mat was definitely not Maggie, and obviously a Templari. Heart pounding Mikha'el addressed the stranger. "What have you done with Maggie."

Swiftly and gracefully the man stood, and nodded to her. "She has been taken to the temple. They will care for her. And now you have a choice to make."

Mikha'el tensed, "What choice?"

The man stepped out of the shadow and into the dim light of the small kitchen window.

"God desires your services. I have come to take you to your service."

"Or?" Mikha'el asked.

"Or turn you over to the Justices.
"
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