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Anmarisa Pelagios

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LEAVE THIS BLUE NEIGHBORHOOD - Cole & Jeremiah

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 Cold as Ice, [Erik]
Cahira Murdock
 Posted: Mar 16 2018, 12:17 AM
Quote

Ice
Age: 18
application
tracker
Group Icon
Warrior
Soul-Reading

Posts: 26
OOC: Fyra


Cahira stepped out of her room at the inn. She had spent the extra coin she'd gathered in favor of privacy and bought a room all to herself. Even so, she had made enough recently that she had enough for food, drink and extra to spare. It had been a long week of travelling, and she felt so much better after the bath. Unfortunately, it had cooled rather quickly. Nonetheless, the young woman emerged into the common room a completely different sight than she had originally entered the inn in.

Porcelain skin all but glowed in the dim lighting of the inn, and she paused for a moment to double check the belt that hung from her waist at a carefully placed angle. Her dress was a modest cut but her skirt was full, giving her room to move swiftly if needed. The gentle lavender and blue were gentle hues that brought her silver eyes to sparkling, and despite it's modest cut, one could still see her collarbone. There had not been much she could do with her short hair, and so it fell in platinum locks around her face. Her slender, gloved fingers were adorned with silver rings, and around her throat a delicate necklace sat. It looked like crystal, but was in truth, ice. Nearly everything about her was the image of a properly raised, modest woman of traditional Ice heritage. Only one piece stayed out of place.

She knew the world too well at this point. Her carefully angled belt held a pouch and a long dagger. Underneath her skirts, she could feel the two daggers in her boots, giving her a measure of comfort.

Cahira let her mind soak up the emotions of those in the inn as she came down the steps, her face expressionless and her eyes looking over the inn. Few here were thinking anything dark. Emotions soared upwards into happiness as ale flowed and patrons found themselves warm and comfortable. Though her expression was blank and her emotions carefully contained, she felt satisfied. It should be fairly safe here.

Once down among the crowd, she carefully weaved around them, avoiding any contact with anyone, until she reached a table, empty, in the corner. There she waved a barmaid over, ordering a meal and a glass of wine. Both were delivered promptly, and Cahira ensured that several coppers were slipped to the barmaid for her quick service. Then, her posture perfect, she began to eat carefully, silver-grey eyes scanning the room, ever watchful, as she did so.
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Erik Lothar
 Posted: Mar 31 2018, 12:43 AM
Quote

Ice
Age: 32
application
tracker
Group Icon
Warrior
Force-Field Manipulation

Posts: 9
OOC: Spotty


The man moved with a sense of purpose through the dilapidated port, grey eyes vigilant and mind sharp. He'd never been much of a fan of the previous water tribe cities, and now that it had fallen out of Averian control, it made it even less appealing. Still, he had business here. A source of his had told him Cahira Murdock was last seen about the streets of Dessus and he thought to seek a meeting with the girl before she drifted into whatever godsforsaken corner of the earth she'd travel too next.

Cahira was an interesting conundrum. She was every bit her father's daughter as she was his complete opposite. He could understand Ulysses’ choice to let her take a more martial path and had little quarrel with it, in theory. As frustrating as it might be to have her considered a warrior, but not yet under his potential purview, perhaps it was for the best. He needed people dedicated to Aver and her people, not free wanderers. And not people who couldn't listen to reason or authority, which was the reputation she had garnered from some of Aver’s remaining war-hardened military.

Still, as Ulysses’ daughter, he didn't bring up the subject out of respect the man. Perhaps she should have just taken the mantle of a scout instead? He had heard her mother had been one. But if she was content to travel, perhaps she could be of some use to him. Caldo wasn't a kingdom that sat on their hands. Fire and lightning, energy, both were dynamic forces by nature. He was not foolish enough to think this was the end. They'd come again, like hungry dogs looking for blood. Both forces were weakened, but not defeated. He knew something was going on within those dented metal walls, but not what.

As one of the only standing, if not the only standing inn in the town, he figured if she could still be found, she'd be here. Instinct and fortune had both aided him, as a visual comb of the inn’s busy common room quickly highlighted those not painfully overt in their drunken merriment. He'd briefly seen her before, but it was that in combination with previous exclusion that had him settle on his perceived target.

“Ms. Murdock, might I have a word?”

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Cahira Murdock
 Posted: Mar 31 2018, 01:43 AM
Quote

Ice
Age: 18
application
tracker
Group Icon
Warrior
Soul-Reading

Posts: 26
OOC: Fyra


She sat, a pocket of cool propriety within an inn full of drunken revelry. The emotions of the room remained light and friendly. These were decent folk for the most part, though everyone had their shadows on their souls. Silently, she thanked the god that had instilled her with such natural discipline that allowed her to be around more people than her mother ever managed. For all of her strengths, Cahira knew Rhyn would have fled the instant more than five of the people within the inn showed up. Even among their family, there had been times as Cahira grew older that she had watched her mother’s pale golden eyes turn out toward the frozen woods, longing within. Even her children were sometimes too much.

With her senses keenly tuned into the feeling of the room, it was unmistakable when another of her people walked into the room. Her silvery eyes fell upon him as people moved out of the way. Emotionally, he was dark, almost like a black hole with only the barest sparks of color. Purpose, curiosity, but mostly determined purpose. There was little else to be read from him. Only those born into the culture of the ice tribe held such discipline over their emotions that even an empath had occasional difficulty reading them.

She did not halt her meal with this observation though. It took only a few more minute to finish off her stew and bread, and by the time Erik reached her, as she knew he inevitably would, she was merely sipping at the goblet of wine. He was familiar, a face she had seen before, and his name floated into her mind. Erik Lothar. The Lothar family had stepped up after the war ended, dragging the ragged ends of Aver into place slowly. It was a large project, but she held no doubt that they would succeed as a family.

His voice was a soothing timbre in comparison to the noise of the rest of the room, and after her pale gaze swooped over him, she moved gently. Gracefully, she rose to her feet and sank into a brief curtsey, one noble to another, as her father had insisted she learn. ”M’lord Lothar. It would be my pleasure to speak with you.” Her eyes met his boldly before sinking in proper, demure style for a maiden of her age.

A brief moment passed as she thought about whether he would prefer to walk to where it was quieter, or sit with her there, and the realization that, rather improperly, she had no escort. She had scoffed when her father tried to insist that she take one of her brother’s with her, and she still didn’t know what her mother had said that had caused him to relent. But here she was, a maiden, a warrior, but still a maiden, and without an escort. If her dress showing her collarbone wasn’t scandalous enough, how dare she show that expanse of porcelain skin and not have an escort on top of it. The humor in her thoughts showed only in the barest of smiles in her eyes, the corners crinkling. The rest of her remained impeccably polite as she offered Erik a seat at her table. ”Would you like a drink, m’lord?” Perhaps too formal, but better to err upon the side of caution. Besides… perhaps he would react to her addressing him more respectfully than he had began adressing her.
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