If Doll could go back in time and shake the hand of one person it would unquestionably be the inventor of 'sanctuary'. Who was it that said no one can be arrested in a temple? Whoever it was Doll felt she was indebted to them. She hadn't meant to pick the pocket of a royal guardsman (he hadn't been in uniform) but the moment she'd gotten his purse he'd turned and announced she was quite under arrest.

As if it was that easy. Doll was born and raised on the streets, and she'd had to choose at a young age between the only two available careers for someone like her. The thief did not regret her choice, though the brothel girls certainly slept warmer then everyone else. Doll had learned to navigate the crowded labyrinth of the city's streets in ways that the royal guards never could. It had been easy enough to locate the familiar spires and white washed walls of a temple, and with no end of amusement had heard the guard's frustrated yell as she slipped passed the ornate doors and into the chapel. With his purse.

Doll tossed the entire purse (filled almost obscenely with gold and silver coins) into the temple's offering plate (it'd be suicide to spend a guard's money on wine and women) and sat in one of the many empty pews to wait out the man's fury.