༉˚*ೃ ᵒ¹. 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘!
C H I C A G O,  I L L I N O I S.  1 9 8 3 .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 over the counter, quiet and smiling and very alone. Her smile could have charmed just about anyone. Her blonde hair brushed past her face as she lay her flingers flat down against the counter's surface. Across her shoulders hung her beloved leather jacket, and below that, a bright yellow t-shirt that contrasted with the rest of her overall image. Her blue eyes were lifted up at the edges—but there were no crinkles formed. That was how you knew her smile wasn't genuine.

          Waiting behind her was a long line, trailing out of the bank. There were always long lines here, it was part of the reason why it made this entire plan of hers so troublesome. She, however, had it planned out step-by-step. The teller facing her was a middle-aged man with dark hair and a large smile. He was questioning her about the options of banking while she leant across from him, feigning interest.

          His thoughts were elsewhere. On his wife and family; wishing for a holiday; thinking about what to get his daughter Billie for Christmas. Simple thoughts. This one wouldn't be hard.

          Sar tucked some of her blonde hair behind her ear and clasped her hands together, giving him a soft smile. Her eyes were the only thing betraying her mischief. Bright top, intense interest, a smile: that's all it took. Distract them long enough to get in their heads—it was simple. Before she even uttered a single word of response to what he was currently telling her, Sar was climbing into his mind like some twisted parasite. Her consciousness reached into his thoughts and gripped his.

          She didn't have complete control over the man's mind—never did—and even if she could, Sar would never wish for that. She wasn't a monster. All it took was a small push. Human minds were a beautiful mess of colour and dreams, and his was no different. "Can I see the vault?" she asked, voice lowered and sweet but confident, her soft blue eyes focused on him. There were her thoughts, winding their way into his mind. She needs to see the vault.

          It didn't take a lot. Human minds were easy to bend after all.

          A kind of frightening calmness overcame him—his face eased, his eyes brightened—Sar always hated that part. The man smiled at her as if she was an old friend, stepped away from his position behind the counter, and opened the door for her. So very easy. There was a lack of commotion as she followed him. Why would anyone find suspicion in an action that friendly? He led her behind the telling station and into the inner works of the bank. Sar's mind strained with the effort of holding everything in place. His thoughts, and everyone else's. A perfect, pretty, clockwork picture.

         She found her consciousness slipping just a little bit, but the man seemed entirely convinced that he was doing the right thing. He was smiling at his co-workers as he passed them. Slowly, slightly, Sar seeped into their minds too, making sure they weren't suspicious of the fact he was leading a young girl through the back of the bank. Any suspicions they had were lifted—though she felt it tugging at her mind a little much. Hold up the act. They probably thought she was just one of his daughters. Sar smiled politely at them, holding her large bookbag beneath her arm, attaching and detaching to each of their minds as they passed. It was a gentle, regular rhythm.

          The bank teller led her downstairs to a large vault. It was secured by giant steel doors, practically impossible to break into without the right tools. They'd gotten secure, over the years. Across from the vault was an empty guard post. She'd already convinced the security to take their leave.

          Okay, so she admitted she was a mastermind.

          Sar cracked her fingers. She settled her bookbag down and from it drew out her thermic lance—a tool specifically designed to break through concrete and all other kinds of fortified materials. It wasn't the first time she'd done this. The teenager slipped on the necessary mask and goggles—careful not to end up with serious health issues—and pulled on the rest of the equipment. She may have mind powers, but Sar still had to break into a steel vault like any regular criminal.

          Without so much glancing at the teller, she sent him back upstairs with a single command. Once, she'd been unable to so much as control a mouse—such a feeble brain—but now, although it still hurt, Sar could reach her consciousness out far and wide. She stayed tethered to his mind, in case he was confused as to why people were asking about the young girl they'd seen him with. It had begun to hurt a little, she felt the strain on her mind, but Sar needed to focus on more important things now.

          The thermic lance took a while to break through the steel vault door, and she could feel the heat on her face despite all the protective equipment clothing her. Sar needed to be quick, too. Vaguely, at the back of her mind, Sar could sense the security guard wondering why he was on such a long break, and who he'd swapped out with. When the deed was finished, Sar lay the hot tool on the ground beside her and stripped herself of the gear that was making sweat bead across her skin. With a simple pull of a crowbar she'd stashed in her bookbag, the steel plate decorating the front of the vault pulled out. Stacks of cash lay behind, green and oh so inviting. Kim was going to be pleased.

          Sar stepped through the hole she'd created, into the vault. Getting onto her knees, the teenager pulled a few sacks from her bookbag. She gathered up all the cash she could and tossed it into the sacks, filling them to the brim as quickly and discreetly as possible. The further the bank teller got from her, the more it strained her mind. She was beginning to feel its ache deep at the edge of her skull. Should've just made him stay here. Sar threw the last wads of cash—hundred dollar bills at a time—until they threatened to be too heavy to carry. After a few minutes, she slumped back to her knees, strands of her blonde hair sticking to her face. She'd managed to shove most of the vault into the three bags, a pretty remarkable achievement for her. When she was sure she could cram no more in, Sar stood. Her knees gave a stiff crack as she did so.

         Sar gathered up her things, threw the full sacks over her shoulders, and left the vault. She walked out like she had absolutely nothing to hide. This part was always trickier. Sar liked to call herself a criminal mastermind, but Kim would bug the hell out of her if she knew how exhausted the blonde girl grew after their heists. How the moment Kim was gone, Sar would take a rather long nap and wait for the pain in her head to run away.

          Her mind reached out like silent tethers, latching onto everyone she'd passed, now or before. She's doing nothing wrong. I don't remember what she looked like. And if she'd done her job correctly—which Sar always did—the security guard would have turned off the cameras. Causally, as she marched towards the bank entrance as if she'd been walking with her hands in her pockets, Sar glanced up towards the right corner of the bank. Sure enough, the camera's light was off. Bingo. She gave a rather large satisfied grin. I don't remember what she looked like. It was that simple.

          When Sar walked carelessly out to the street, her yellow boots clicking on the pavement and red skirt short at her knees, no one noticed. The sun was shining on her face, warm and bright, pooling sunrays across her young skin. Her grip on the sacks were tight—they were remarkably heavy—it made her knuckles bloom white. Her eyes were latched on the parcel truck parked just outside, apparently doing nothing at all. A brunette girl sat at the wheel, hair whipped up in a hair-sprayed mess on the top of her head. She was tapping her hands against the steering wheel to a song by The Clash. The music blasted loudly through the radio. Apparently noticing Sar strolling towards her out of the corner to her eyes, the girl glanced up and nodded, jolting her head towards the back of the truck. She had a cigarette dangling out of her lips.

          Sar walked around to the back of the parcel truck—Kim had some very talented painters on the crew who specialised in vehicle forgery—and rolled up the door. The large amount of minds she was reaching into was just about Sar's limit. Ignoring the stabbing pain at her temples, she threw the bags into the back of the truck. Sar reached a hand up to cup her forehead momentarily, willing away the nauseating feeling that was beginning to rise in her chest. Just a second longer.

          No one was paying the two girls any attention, even as Sar slammed the door closed and slid into the passenger seat beside Kimberly. The older girl—Sar wasn't quite sure how old Kim was, but she was Sar's elder by about five years, at least—turned down the radio and looked over at her. She fiddled with her cigarette at her lips. "Good one, kid," Kim grinned, her usual praise for Sar's excellent work, pulled the gas, and the truck squealed out onto the street. And no one was none the wiser.

          Sar turned towards the window, as she let go of each of the minds she'd been tethered to. A trickle of blood left a long red line beneath her nose, dripping down her chin. She raised an arm to wipe it away. The blood smeared across her upper lip and then disappeared into her jacket sleeve.

༉*ೃ༄

just a very short chapter introducing sar!

i hope, hope, hope everyone enjoys this story! i've been toying with this major idea for a while and finally am executing it! this story is a ride, i promise, and has heaps of twists and turns along the way. i hope everyone stays along for the story and really enjoys it! we'll find out more about sar, her story, and why she's the way that she is :)

the bolded and italicized text during the writing is her manipulating their thoughts.

the playlist to this story can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2nRcRmz8VHnenSPPkW5ayP?si=xBC_UCYQSaGg4jEnnE8LiA !

NOTE FROM PRESENT: the moonmaiden series is the series out of all of mine that remains closest to my heart. its story has stuck with me. i'm currently in the process of rewriting this book, in 2020, as i've improved a lot since originally posting it in 2017! as of this post, i've currently rewritten up to chapter 9. it's easy to see which chapters are my new, rewritten ones based on the formatting! the formatting of this chapter is my current layout, and will be the ones that are rewritten :)

please keep reading on! sar is so, so, so close to my heart. she is the oc i've connected to most and her story is so worth reading. she's been with me ever since i thought up her story in the shower in 2017, and has never left. i hope you come to love her as much as i do <3

this is the girl who single-handedly got me back into writing, and helped me get through high school. it's kind of dumb to attribute an oc to being my rock, but i wouldn't be where i am now if it wasn't for my love sar, and i'm very, very happy to be rewriting her again. i missed her so much

enjoy! <3

word count: 2,033

originally posted, 01.12.2017.

revised and rewritten, 01.06.2020.