NOPE.

[No Eul]

Why do I [t i r e] of counting shҽҽp
(Please take me away from here)
When I'm far too [t i r e d] to fall a s l e e p
┏ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ┓
The song, though it had been somewhat on the long side, slowly died down as it came to its inevitable end, the words fading back into a hum before disappearing entirely. Had he known how many people the song had managed to touch perhaps he would have continued with another song, but as he looked about the area at his fellow slaves, he began to fear the chance of any of the slavers becoming aggitated by his noise. It was a secretative business so silence was... ...encouraged, to say the least, by the masters on normal days.

However, the calming effect the song had produced seemed to have mellowed the whole caravan considerably and though Thanh could not see what had happened beyond the slaving area, he could see that the worn faces of the slave women had relaxed and gained some youth it had lost through the journey. The two women directly next to him looked as though they were about to nod off, their heads sagging slightly as they stared at the grass in front of them. Induldged with some self-satisfaction, a small smile worked its way subtley upon the child's face, but it would not last as long as he would have liked. As his blue eyes quietly skimmed over the other slaves, he managed to catch Amir and Sarafina standing in close proximity to each other, watching over the slaves while speaking amongst themselves. Slowly, as though to avoid attention from either person, Thanh pulled his legs closer to his body until they were close enough for his arms to forcefully hug them to his chest.
┗ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ┛
I'd rather stay awake when I'm aslȩȩp
'Cause everything is never as it seems
When I fall a s l e e p

(If no one writes anything, I may add more but it's not necessary)

[Unais]

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX╠ Çɑʅɒмîϯӌ Ѥ
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX"What's in it?"

Before he answers, a knight slides in and out of the conversation, relaying something covertly to him before leaving immediately. In that short span, her frown deepens from looking at his face, as it all starts coming back to her…

His pause is from mulling over something she wouldn’t know, but takes him much less time to figure out who she is. “…Calamity, right?”

“No,” the unlucky woman retorts promptly, piecing the thoughts together at the sound of it. “I, I—“

Yes, she traveled with this caravan before, and this man had led the assembly (or something like that). There were a few others with her and they had taken up the old moniker her “dear old” friend had given her and—

“No, I remember…” The man replies, breaking up her response with a chuckle as his lips crack into a small, amused smile. “All your little friends called you that.” She seethes a sigh with a shaking head and gets out a few more even-less-than-stunted versions of words before he continues right on, “Of course you can keep with us. Jus’ don’t poison anybody.”

She stares at him with wide-eyed exasperation, and breathes, conceding and turning to retreat to the fire. The caravan leader calls after her, resuming his watch, “Be a good girl, Calamity.”

His name escapes her completely.

Calamity sighs; fighting with only a personal reminder that she hasn’t been a child in a lifetime for what she can recall.

There is another couple by the fire. A dark man and in her eyes a rather strange looking woman. Her skin is like the surface of still water; so utterly without texture that Calamity’s gaze slides around and right off of her. The alchemist realizes this woman is considerably beautiful, and she herself can see that, but this life has helped her realize in the fibre of her being that perfection is not existent in a natural world. With eyes and senses trained to see and search for all the latent potential in the mundane and the unnoteworthy, witnessing something already refined to a flawless purity beyond possibility is intrinsically bizarre to her. Something completely naked gives her nothing to look at.

But there is something there, but she mustn’t look to see it. The two carry a similar and familiar air. When she realizes what it is, she closes her eyes, lifting her brows and smiling to herself at the thought. Anything reminding her of where she hails from seems like a rather poor reflection on herself and whatever’s causing her to recall.

Despite the conversation within earshot, she's hardly heard a word of it and chuckles audibly at her own musing.

___________________________________
¤ "You... don't want to know."

[Zevran Arainai]

___________________________________________________________
_____________________________
_______





Chapter 2: Lightning Strikes

As the night grew cold and the waxing moon hung in the star-dotted sky, many members of the Blue Caravan couldn’t help but drift into sleep, weary from travel and beckoned by the chilly winds. Those who heeded the rumors of Bandits and kept awake from the menacing sounds of the creatures that inhabited the Wilds, were still awake, eyes peeled and alert. Those who were armed were ready to engage any enemy that would appear and those who wielded no weaponry were wise enough to stand beside someone who did. The Leader and Guards of his Caravan stood watch at the front and the back, and the Slave Traders were left responsible for looking after their own cargo. All others found comfort beside the flickering campfire, whose warmth reminded many of home, and a time less dreary.

Little did those wary travelers know was that an ambush was waiting to strike, claws and teeth bared to tear the Caravan apart along with the people that travelled along with it. The Bandits were a cautious group, skilled from years of experience living in the desert, and in combat as well. They outnumbered the Caravan’s battle-ready inhabitants three-to-one, but wouldn’t show their true numbers unless their target tried to flee into Racluear. Their plan was effective and brought them success with smaller traveling caravans.

Who could blame those bandits? They weren’t always criminals preying on traveling wagons for valuables so that their families could be fed. Motivated by hunger, power, and fear, these men and women have chosen to abandon their unsavory lives to live as thieves. Whether they are farmers who’ve suffered their last drought, an escaped slave who’d murdered her merciless Master, or a desperate mother in search for a solution to her children’s empty bellies, they aren’t afraid to slice through an innocent traveler to get what they needed to survive.

So, with that being said, will the Bandits succeed in ransacking the Blue Caravan for its chattel, or will they be sorry that they ever considered attacking them? In the wee hours after midnight, the time comes for them to strike…

[Shin~The ladle monster!]

..........

____________________________________________________

〖 ۞ 〗

[ - C a l e . H a r s h a l - ]
_____________________________





"There's a she-wolf in disguise; coming out, coming out, coming out..."




Cale was once again stationed at the camp’s perimeter, only this time there was no feigning of laziness or sleep. She stood guard at the rear of the camp, wide awake and ready for conflict. A former bandit herself, she knew that the time was coming. Because really, despite the efficient and professional way that she carried herself, she was no trained guard, no militant. She had already mapped out exactly how and when she would go about attacking the caravan, were she on the other side. When the time came to fight, she wouldn’t be doing so with the trained precision of a guard--it would be with the gritty, realistic and unmerciful tendencies she had picked up over her years of banditry. They had been lucky enough not to have seen very much action by this point. Doubtless, a few heads would be turned when they saw the other side of this seemingly stoic and reclusive guard.

'Maybe... maybe I'll feel more comfortable with these people after fighting alongside them. I can relax more among people I've shed blood with, and shed blood for.'

From where she stood, she had a decent view of the slave wagons and the camp they had set up not far from her own. She knew what was in those wagons, had made a point of finding out what she could of their companions. Did she judge the slavers? Not really. They were a pack of their own, and had their own hierarchy. The slavers were obviously dominant, and they provided for the basest of needs of their charges. Beyond that, it wasn’t really Cale's place to say anything else, regardless of what she felt. She couldn’t help but wonder if they were adequately guarded against the bandits, though.

'Would it not be safer to move the camps closer, combine our defences to create a single solid front rather than two weak ones?'

She shook her mind free of such wandering thoughts and worries, moving her gaze away from the slaver’s camp and back out toward the trees. She focused on the shadows, wanting to be sure that her eyes were used to the dark enough to function well for her during a fight.

Her blade, a broad weapon, was now naked and glinting dully in the moonlight. Despite its large size and considerable weight, she held it slightly aloft, with control in her wrist and arm. She was at the ready.

〖 ۞ 〗

____________________________________________________

..........

[Zevran Arainai]

Amir Malik

"Let's make a deal..."

Amir yawned. Since he’d rounded up the girls and shoved them back into their wagon for fear of being snatched by bandits, he was finally becoming restless. It wasn’t like him to be stuck in one place for too long, even if it were simply a night. Amir slept on his own time, when he felt the need to. At the moment, he would’ve rather re-engaged his dearest Charlotte in sharp-tongued banter once again. He kept watch outside of his properties, sitting upon what seemed to be a barrel that he’d dragged there simply for the purpose of sitting on it. Sarafina should have been at watch with him, but she was a woman of her own accord, never following orders. Why should she? Amir respected her – or at least he made it seem that way. He wasn’t exactly the anti-chauvinist.

After voicing his concerns for the prized Oronian, the boy had since been taken from the shelter of the rest of the ladies, shackled on his own, and placed inside the first wagon, where nearly all of the supplies were kept and where the Traders themselves slept when they felt the need to. Amir felt that it was the safest at the moment. Special cases were usually assigned to the third wagon; those who needed to be especially cared for. At that time, he’d decided that it would’ve been too easy for a bandit to slip through the back while no one was looking. Even though the boy was in a much more secure space than before, Amir still insisted on checking on him periodically.

Twenty minutes ago, he’d left Thanh with yet another bowl of luke-warm soup. Feeding him would surely lessen his deterioration, but until a body of salt-water was found, the Oronian’s color would remain as dull as the dirt on the ground. Amir had admitted before to Sarafina that he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to care for a child of Thanh’s age and that she would receive a generous cut of the profit if the boy lived to reach his destination.

Amir wasn’t concerned about the protection of his caravan. He and Sarafina were perfectly capable of defending themselves and their cargo. They were a formidable duo, if they weren’t as threatening separately. Not to mention the fact that there were also three others to guard the wagons and to whip the horses into action should the need to flee (or chase) arise. Plus, bandits never seemed to want any of the 'valuables' the slave traders carried, anyway.

[Kasius Unlimited]

Jeroh Evran

"Even when watching the blackest of night I will come and take what I need, for like the darkness I shall engulf your world and claim it for my own."

The days seemed to bleed together like some sort of crazed play for the mind of Jeroh Evran as he feels that feeling, the tingling in his fingers, the prospect that he always chased in hopes of finding some hidden meaning. To say he simply travels with the bandits for security or companionship would be almost easy to figure, that is how the bandits were as if a large family who happened to tear apart other families in order to survive, to go on.
Jeroh thrived on the mob mentality of this group as he had with others in the past although for the past three months he has yet felt that shiver in his foot that meant it was time to part ways, for reasons unknown to him he finds himself with this particular band, tribe, group or however you wish to label it. He began to wonder if he found something worth holding onto as he began moving like a shadow over rocks with five others, he knew two of them by name but the other three were just lost faces in the crowd for him.

His group was to be part of the secondary wave, the mop up crew as it were as he served as the murderer for his team, a finisher if you will. End the fate for the dying or to hush any loud voices should they stumble into people who could not shut their mouth while the other four would loot what they can. The main group holds the ground while the second wave moves in quick and silent, take what seems of value as they were simply the thieves whom were fleet of foot and agile hands to make sure the raid would be worth it.
Jeroh would scan those around the fire seeking the glittering of steel or armor as his job was not to seek valuables but to be a mobile sentry, he preferred it that way as to him the only real commodity was clothes and food while the spilling of blood was merely the pleasure of the trip, some assumed he was insane, others simply understood everyone needs a hobby and this was his. He would not boast or share stories around the fire once they get back to camp, but he would gladly listen as others would relate the adventure with an inner glee he could never show through smile or laughter although he finds himself feigning these things as to not seem suspicious.

Suspicious people usually never woke up again as the family cut any possible loose ends, so in essence Jeroh was a constant actor in a play, always looking at things from an angle it seemed. His golden eyes slowly turned to his companions as one particular young man began shuffling here and there as he was feeling uneasy, adrenaline was high for everyone involved as all it takes is a word and a signal before chaos would envelop them all and either take them or end them.
Jeroh placed a calm hand on his shoulder as his name escaped him for now so he simply said. "Soon, be at ease for you will move enough once our time comes friend." Jeroh gave no smile but his voice was even and steady giving the young man reassurance that was needed, the young ones always seemed so eager, in a way he missed that feeling.
Then again that lack of control was always a constant memory as with every rain comes a familiar itch from a scar that ran down his spine, an experienced guard with sharp wits and a sharper spear nearly ended his life and as he recalled it he could swear he could still feel shards of steel still embedded in the aging wound.
Oh the younger years and the lack of experiences it came with, days probably best forgotten as new memories were to be made in short order, time was always moving and made no effort to wait for those who missed their moments as he could feel the intensity in the dark. That which would soon begin...

[Cobalt Masquerade]

Salieern Icewind

"His voice sent chills down mens spines and his glare froze blood..."

Salieern waited with all of his gear on, he sat at the edge of the woods that seperated the bandits from the caravan and sighed slightly, he was always the first to go in since his Artic winds could cause quite a bit of chaos if noone could counter it. Not that it kept him from wondering if they let him go first to act as a meatshield while the rest of them snuck past but he couldn't care less either way since he had survived thus far.

Salieerns sharp ears could pick up the sounds of the other bandits somewhere behind him as they readied themselves for the attack, though they would wait for the artic wind to blow through first before they started the attack. That of course was something else that might have pissed him off, they used him like some sort of signal for everyone else to move in on all sides to raid the hopefully scared and confused caravan of all it's goods.

[artfreek]

~~~~Nesa Comec~~~~


Nesa had danced by the fire until the song ended. She felt so free when she danced almost as if she had melted into the wind and it carried her through the sky. It had been a disappointment when the song ended. It was beautiful and she wished it had kept going so she could dance more. When she danced she thought of nothing and all worries and tension melted away. That song just seemed to enhance that feeling. She could have continued dancing with a song of her own, but she didn't feel it could measure up to the other.

Now she sat by the fire, her pack strapped to her back again. She was hugging her legs to her chest as her head rested on her knees. She was beginning to feel tired, but she didn't dare fall asleep. If the bandits were going to attack she wanted to be on her guard. Waking up to people in a panic would not be good. Or she could just not wake up at all having had one of the bandits kill her in her sleep. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it was a possibility and it fueled her need to stay awake.

She had never really used the wind other than in her performances and for fun. The thought of using it to protect herself never really had occurred to her, but now she was running through everything she knew trying to make it work in a fight. She realized that she wouldn't be able to do much but shove people with gusts of wind and would be more on the defensive than anything. She had no idea how to fight and knew she wouldn't be able to kill anybody.

She got up now not wanting to sit anymore. A familiar nervous twinge rose in her stomach. It happened to every time right before she performed, but this wasn't a performance. This very well could turn out to be a life or death situation and she wasn't sure how she would handle it. Swirls of air went around her body like a mother hugging her child. It was warm and calmed her down a bit like it always did when her emotions were high. The wind was always here comfort constantly there and always loyal. She held out her hand feeling it wind around her arm and through her finger. Invisible and powerful with lithe and grace matched by no other.

[Tragoedia]

_____________________________________________________________________

ѕтαη∂ ωιтн мє.

There was a soft gust of wind that swished delicately through the man's long, gray hair. Casey turned his head to the side slightly, his right ear tilted upwards, as he listened to the harmonious rustle of the freezing air fluttering through the leaves above him. It caught his silken scarf and caused that to "dance" slightly, creating a small splash of color on the darkened background of the night in front of him. He was standing by the edge of the woods and leaning against a tree with that same grin still painted onto his face, his back to the fire and the wagons.

He didn't have to turn around to know who the closest person to him was. She was hidden behind the caravan behind him...the princess' maid...the one with the pretty golden hair that matched his scarf. What was her name again? It was either Justina or Justine. He always got those two names confused for some reason....

Justina/Justine was probably just working again like she had been when Casey had last seen her. Kind of a confusing career choice in Casey's opinion, a maid. It seemed to somehow greatly lack excitment to him. Definately not something he would enjoy.

A small flicker of movement caught his eye. Those topaz orbs shifted quickly to the dirt ground only to see a little mouse scamper across a tree's protruded roots; it was at least several meters away from him. It paused and stood on it's hind legs, sniffing the air, then dropping on all fours to crawl around the ground again.

Casey watched it scamper along the ground for a minute or two, standing there as still as a statue would as he waited for it to run away. His grin broadened slightly. "Things're tough eh', little guy?" At the sound of his voice, however, even though it was soft, the mouse froze in it's tracks. It's little beady eyes stared at the spot where the voice had come from. Casey moved his head slightly and the little rodent darted away, immediately disappearing from sight.

The absent-minded grin remained on his face as it fled. He angled his gaze upward again, towards the depths of the woods.

ιт'ѕ ѕαƒєя σνєя нєяє.
_____________________________________________________________________

((Starting at a new spot since everyone seems to be doing that.))

[Shalailai]

______________________________________________________________________ϻεȴȴɒ Ϛσʄεʁɳɒ

She whistled a merry tune through her teeth, whittling a block of wood with her knife. Her back was leaning against a side of the caravan, and her foot upon a large rock. Shreds of wood fluttered to the floor. The wind tousled her hair slightly, strands covering her face. Mella pulled them away, more interested in the block of wood that was taking shape. Of course, she had to be on guard if there were bandits, but the view seemed calm and without problems.

But, the gold and jewels upon the caravan was bait for thieves. She wasn't fond of being here and taking care of a caravan when people had talents better than her, when she had none. But they were probably clumsy on their feet, using their power for their own good. Mella used her weapons and terrain to her advantage, years of experience in the always defying terrains of the mountains and such, where she had lived for a time in her life.

Of course, but like the caravan said, you don't tell us your secrets, you don't tell us yours.' Mella's life wasn't the best, but it wasn't the worse. She enjoyed it except for the constant hunger and bandits. Maybe that was why she had become a guard and accepted this long mission. Maybe because she liked to travel and wander, and stop the bandits. Or maybe just because of the pay. For whatever reason, she didn't really mind this.

Mella blew lightly on the block of wood, the dust wandering away, and revealing a small bird in it's place, nicely made. it wasn't her best, it wasn't her worse. It was one of the ones she made for fun and for calming the mind. She put it in one of her pockets, saving it for later. She stood up, the wind slightly rustling her hair and her swords at her side. It was high time she stepped up and did her part of patrolling the caravan. With her arms at her side and her face blank, she walked ahead, leaves making sounds below her feet. Her long , golden hair trailed behind her alongside her purple cloak, making her seem like she was sailing against the wind, the way she stood. She couldn't wait to take a blink of sleep, for she needed it dearly, and a sleepy guard made an aware bandit. Mella tried rubbing her eyes, and forced them open after the concentration she put into the wooden hawk. But she would make it through patrol.

Her salary needed her too.

'Look no farther than your hand
Make a choice and take a stand
I tell tall tales never heard before
Slid across the wood floor
And come join the fun with me
And let us call victory with glee'

I made up that silly nice rhyme,
In my useless spare time.

[Phloxx]

________________________________________________________________________
[ ღ ] ⇢ Sarafina Tricka

Sixty four, sixty five, sixty six, sixty seven, sixty eight. Sixty eight. Sixty eight beats per minute. She was getting excited.

Sarafina felt her fingers twitch, anticipation itching at them. She was ready, so ready for the boredom to be gone. All that needed to happen now was for the dirty creatures in the forest to come and try their hands at robbing her. She couldn’t wait until they did. Until the moment were she would reflect in their dark hues, a vision of evil; a white-haired female with amber eyes that would tear the very marrow from their bones. It wasn't that Sarafina was particularly sadistic but battles made her feel most alive.

At the moment, however, she sat unmoving and remote in the corner of one of the slave caravans, biding her time until the mundane night slipped into chaos, a hungry predator. The little Oronian boy sat in his shackles only an arms length away, a bowl of watery soup in front of him. It seemed that she was now charged with his well being, a situation she would not soon forgive Amir for. She was as much a mother as he was a housewife. His lack of breasts though apparently made her a more suitable candidate. In truth, Sarafina found herself unable to care for the boy. Such a pathetic little child, he really would be better off dead. His despair perfumed the air around him like thick and heavy engine smoke. Sara could almost see how it swirled about, bruising the room a blue and black haze, before reaching her and traveling down the stem of her neck, pooling into the flawed chambers of her heart. It should have effected her, but it didn’t. She was uninterested in the boys sadness. She only watched him with distant and hard eyes, making sure he ate the food in front of him.

"Eat or harm will befall you." She warned him, voice clipped, "You resemble a skeleton. Remedy it."

[No Eul]

xxxxxxxxxx{ ☀ }xxxxxxxxxx
The hours had passed by relatively quickly and the bandits had made their way quickly down the mountain side after the bandit leader had explained the raid plan once more. There were three main groups: those who would attack at close range, those who would steal the items, and those who would provide support for the other two groups with a shower of arrows. Needless to say, Ailbhe was in the final group as archery had always been her only talent. It was not a lie to say that the woman knew how to use a dagger, but her skills with the knife were nothing compared to many bandits who wielded their swords and flashed their daggers in the raids. The darkness made it hard to see the caravan down below, but the leader had picked a good place for the archers to lie in wait for the first signal.

There was always a signal and since Salieern had joined the bandits, the leader had decided that the excruciatingly cold air the older man could produce was a good tactic to use most of the time. This raid would be no different and after Salieern produced the cold signal then the archers were to begin their attack. Soon after the archers began their attack, it would be time for the close range attackers to move in and then the raid would truly begin. However, as Ailbhe laid there in the tall grass, glaring down at the caravan down below, she could feel an agitation growing just beneath the surface. The leader knew when to initiate an attack but as someone who could only wait, Ailbhe was beginning to feel antsy.


Little did Ailbhe know that further down in the thin line of trees between the mountains and the lake, the leader of the band was making his final preparations. His eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness ahead of him as though it was as bright as day. After moving through the group, the leader made his way over to Salieern and stopped only an arm's length away. His arm was raised ever so slightly, reaching towards the arctic man without ever coming close to touching him. His eyes and his attention were fully focused on the sky above, the waxing moon reflecting in his eyes. Minutes stretched by until a passing cloud covered the moon completely and then the leader tapped Salieern's shoulder.

"You're up."

xxxxxxxxxx{ ☪ }xxxxxxxxxx

Aɩɭɓɧҽ இ Ɍυαɩɖɧrȉ

[No Eul]

Why do I [t i r e] of counting shҽҽp
(Please take me away from here)
When I'm far too [t i r e d] to fall a s l e e p
┏ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ┓
Amazingly, the slavers felt some sort of need to isolate the boy from the rest of the slaves, though Thanh quickly found that it wasn't out of sympathy for his misfortunate situation. Those people had realized that he had not been eating properly (or something of the sort) and had confined him within a different caravan in order to fatten him up. Amir had given him more soup than the boy had wanted and continued to do so and it seemed that Sarafina was looking after him, making sure that he did eat. Even at that moment, the woman was sitting in the caravan with a scary, annoyed look on her face and a bowl of soup sat in front of him.

"Eat or harm with befall you."

The words made the child flinch, his ice blue eyes quickly darting up towards the woman before settling down on the soup again. He had eaten so much that he was surprised that he hadn't passed into a food coma already, yet the slavers continued to insist that he eat more. He could not understand what was so horrid about not feeling hungry. He had lost a little weight, but in the kind of condition all the slaves were in, he had figured that it was just part of the life. However, the prospect of being physically beaten was more unpleasant than the slight pain of his stomach stretching. The bowl was quickly brought to his lips and the broth was sucked in as quickly as possible. It was not the warmest soup but the only meant that the liquid that ran from the corners of his mouth did not leave a red streak on its journey down his the sides of his throat. The oversoftened vegetables that occassionally spotted the soup were soft enough that they practically dissolved over his tongue and aside from nutritional value, it did little for taste.

Once air refused to help anymore soup along, the bowl was torn away from Thanh's lips and made a loud banging sound as he set it down, breathing heavily. It took several heavy pants before the child could catch his breath and went back to nervously staring between the now half-empty bowl of soup and Sarafina. He had certainly done what the woman had told him to, but he was unsure of whether or not the woman would be angry with the technicalities of her statement. After a moment and a half of consideration, the child opened his mouth and then closed it... and then opened it again. The child did this several times before peering towards the female slaver. "Fu-- ... Fu-Full..." he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, backing away from the woman ever so slightly as he spoke.
┗ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ┛
I'd rather stay awake when I'm aslȩȩp
'Cause everything is never as it seems
When I fall a s l e e p

[Cobalt Masquerade]

Salieern Icewind

"His voice sent chills down mens spines and his glare froze blood..."

"So it would seem, I'll ask that you back up so you don't get caught in it..." Salieern said glancing back at the bandit leader then towards the moon above and sighed as he crouched slightly so that he wouldn't off balance himself, then took in a deep breath. the first breath seemed to affect no change on the area around him, except that it got slightly colder. His second breath was visable as the air got even colder, the same with the third and fourth breaths until it was absolutly freezing and the ground around him frosted over. Then the fifth breath was blown and a noise erupted from him, not a human noise but that of a banshee's scream and thus was the artic wind set into motion, screaming through the trees, leaving only frost and ice in it's wake as it flew towards the caravan's, though they would hear it coming long before the cold reached them.

Salieern let out a long breath as he slumped over, mostly to regain his strench and breath, the artic winds always took a lot out of him but he hoped to be on his feet as soon as the meele line had started to pass him so that he wasn't left behind. It was here that he glanced around to see if the bandit leader was still around or if he had gone off to do whatever it was he was doing to do.

[Moment`s Indecision`]

CxhxaxrxlxoxtxtxexxxxAxnxnxe
xxx
Sxxoxxlxxexxixxl




MιRRoR, яoяяιM on the wall,xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Who is. . .xxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxxxxxI AM the fairest of them all.

The moment Justine greeted and asked about the new items Charlotte had come to possess, the princess quickly ushered her maid into the wagon. The femme deemed it exceedingly important that the knowledge of her craft was not overheard. To believe that a witch was among them would not be something that would work to Charlotte’s advantage. Witchcraft was a dangerous – and illegal – business. It would not be fitting for the Princess of Albrind to be considered a witch.

And so, Charlotte spoke with Justine about her magic within the confines of the wagon. She’d shown her the dark of night and the heat of fire, explaining the potential each attribute possessed. However, the only information she let out was the benefits of the items; night to hide her identity for protection and fire to keep her warm when it was cold. She never alluded to the darker aspects; night for poison and fire for slowly torturing another. These were the aspects that Charlotte was dying to use. Call it twisted, but that was the way Charlotte’s mind worked.

After the conversation had been made, Justine returned to her chores and Charlotte was sit within the wagon, left to worry about a rumored attack on the caravan. Despite her guard standing just outside the wagon and her abilities, the femme couldn’t help but worry. Mainly because her magical possessions could be taken from her. That was a fear that Charlotte couldn’t stand. She would not dare sleep if her elements were threatened in any way. Most of her time after her conversation with Justine was deciding how she should conceal her valuables amidst her clothing. Already, she’d hidden some of the smaller vials and containers within her corset and had strapped a few canisters to her thighs. Her bag was strapped on her back beneath her cloak and she was currently placing more vials within her one boot. A small flimsy dagger was hidden within the other. Not that she would ever use the blade anyways. That was a pathetic last resort if her clever wit and witchcraft failed her.

She was only slightly less comfortable when all the items were in place. Each and every one hidden with acute precision and care. Charlotte could not help but smirk as she thought of Amir’s comment from earlier. This dress would not do her any good? It was concealing her possessions quite nicely. So long as she had her elements, she could defend herself from anything – dress or no.

A shiver traversed through Charlotte’s body as she sat restlessly within the wagon. Was it her imagination or had it just gotten colder? The difference was slight, but it was enough to bother the princess. She turned her gaze over to Justine who sat idly by.

“It feels colder.” She stated while wrapping her cloak around her exposed arms. “Did you notice?”

Immediately, a rather strange noise echoed throughout her ears. It was very soft from within her wagon. Just barely audible. Barely. The sound was more than likely louder outside. The sound slowly began to grow into a sound that Charlotte premised would be ear-shattering. With a rather displeased look, she questioned bitterly about the sound. “What. Is that?”

C a r exxxxf o rxxxxa nxxxxxA p p l e ?

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