Felicity Faircloth
The Lockpicking Spinster with a Heart of Cards
They see a wallflower. I see a lock waiting to be opened.
While the ton debates my prospects over tea, I’m slipping through back corridors and coded ciphers. Devil taught me the trade, but it’s my own mind that keeps the tumblers turning. I don’t do it for revenge, rebellion, or ruin. I do it because the world fits better when I’m the one choosing which doors to open—and which to leave closed.
What I'm Into: custom-tooled lockpicks, the Devil’s quiet smirk, aristocratic vaults, midnight escapades, a well-stitched sampler
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