She sat in the midst of the tavern, her right foot resting on the table in front of her and her gaze looked on the flames of the fireplace. She was lost in tired thought, not caring much of appearances at the moment and not noticing the stranger until he'd situated himself besides her on the couch. She glanced to the man with a raised brow and asked out of common curtesy, "Who might you be?"
The man took a moment to notice her question, answering soon after with his first name of Ronaen and an added note that she could call him 'Ron'. She introduced herself- Kip. The two began their conversation following her middle name being shared like it was her first, the talk slow and pleasant until that man, Ron, decided to call her a little girl. She flared up, glaring daggers at him and her staff sang through the air before being caught in the man's hand a moment before it clocked him in the head.
She scowled, the Drowdar came to tell them both to stop being fools, and following her hitting Ron once more she rose from her spot and carried on. She clicked down the street with an air of disinterest and annoyance, pausing to look down the stone stairwell that led to the sewers. A place she could do as she liked and not follow rules or notions. She was stopped though by the echo of the Minister's word. She released a sigh and carried on to her next mistake.
It was several hours following the cane incident, the retelling of it just finishing as the Minister had to excuse himself. The Claith bit her tongue of calling him a name for needing to leave, venturing once more from the tavern. Down the streeet she went until being stopped by a baton. The finely dressed guard that had bothered her before kept her there and after a moment informed the guardsman besides him to search her.
She was clear of all weapon or drug, her foot moving forward so she could return to her walk before her boots were demanded off. "You always search me when you see me and I never have anything." The woman grumbled, removing her boots. Nothing in them but an empty sheath. There was a scoff and a muttered word that struck her as she moved off again.
Delinquent.
That's how they saw her, the name-lying Claith. She gave a thin smile as she carried on. So much for changing the way people see you.
The man took a moment to notice her question, answering soon after with his first name of Ronaen and an added note that she could call him 'Ron'. She introduced herself- Kip. The two began their conversation following her middle name being shared like it was her first, the talk slow and pleasant until that man, Ron, decided to call her a little girl. She flared up, glaring daggers at him and her staff sang through the air before being caught in the man's hand a moment before it clocked him in the head.
She scowled, the Drowdar came to tell them both to stop being fools, and following her hitting Ron once more she rose from her spot and carried on. She clicked down the street with an air of disinterest and annoyance, pausing to look down the stone stairwell that led to the sewers. A place she could do as she liked and not follow rules or notions. She was stopped though by the echo of the Minister's word. She released a sigh and carried on to her next mistake.
It was several hours following the cane incident, the retelling of it just finishing as the Minister had to excuse himself. The Claith bit her tongue of calling him a name for needing to leave, venturing once more from the tavern. Down the streeet she went until being stopped by a baton. The finely dressed guard that had bothered her before kept her there and after a moment informed the guardsman besides him to search her.
She was clear of all weapon or drug, her foot moving forward so she could return to her walk before her boots were demanded off. "You always search me when you see me and I never have anything." The woman grumbled, removing her boots. Nothing in them but an empty sheath. There was a scoff and a muttered word that struck her as she moved off again.
Delinquent.
That's how they saw her, the name-lying Claith. She gave a thin smile as she carried on. So much for changing the way people see you.
