Mayor's Manor

Lorel's morning ritual, while unusual, was something she performed almost without thought. Her essential belongings were spread across her bed. Once she had donned her usual armor, she set to adding her usual 'accessories'. Her rapier at her waist, bow over her shoulder, and daggers at the back of her belt. Then came the smaller bits, her set of picks, now fifteen years old, she hid in small pockets across her armor. Her crowbar and hammer at her belt, and her quiver on the opposite shoulder to the bow. It took a few minutes to get through the rest, but she was soon ready to go.
She knew her parents did not think highly of her leaving with kit to rob a bank, they did not get it. She suspected Lysander understood a bit of it, though Posupniar she knew had no idea. It wasn't any kind of paranoia like Lysander thought, more sentimentality. Some of the equipment dated back to her earliest memories. She did not expect to need it, tempting as that was; but it reminded her of before. For some reason, that felt important.
Once she had everything, left her room, striding at a hurried pace.