𝔬𝔥 𝖌𝖔𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖘!

Truthfully, Nik just wanted to take his drink in peace. He would have moved to a different area if he couldn’t feel the cold seeping into his bones, but as it was he currently needed to be by the fire at least in the interim. “No, can you blame a man for wanting to drink without being turned away?”

Her gaze made him uneasy and that was not a feeling that Nik was used to. He wasn’t intimidated exactly, but he definitely got the sense that he was being scrutinised, that there was something about him she either didn’t like or was trying to work out. Shit, she wasn’t one of his one night flings from back home was she? No, even in a drunken stupor he always made a point to remember those should they or their husbands make a return appearance. “Stopping by, just to get out of the castle for a while.”

-

Nadia had done a good job avoiding anything and anyone from Iilyria for a good while. Given the price still on her head, she wasn’t particularly interested in getting another mark on her red ledger... Still, as the wheels turned in her mind, sometimes it was alright to indulge her curiosity. Blue eyes held firm her gaze, the corner of her lips pulling upwards. “Looks like we’re just a pair of blameless individuals then.” She moved to the side, making a bit more room for the stranger.

It wasn’t enough to pour through her memories, the face of the man bringing forth little from the sixteen years she had in her home country. Worst came to worst, her sword was still comfortably strapped to her thigh. It’s the next words that bring forth a laugh.  “From the castle hmm?” Was he royalty? A guard? A stable hand? Given the accent and the now little detail, Nadia leaned forward. It was a thin line between potential friend and enemy. “Don’t tell me you got bored of all those servants and riches? I’ve heard even the latrines there are golden encrusted... royal shits.”  She took a sip of her ale, shaking her head. “What can you find here that you don’t have there?” 

he  sat  alone  in  the  gardens,  watching  others  around  him  go  about  there  their  day.  this  was  his  attempt  to  be  social,  to  be  seen,  though  he  made  no  attempt  to  start  a  conversation  with  them,  nor  interact  with  them.  in  truth,  he  was  unsure  of  he  would  even  approach  them,  he  spent  the  major  of  his  stay  here  avoiding  everyone,  avoiding  all  sort  of  gatherings  (to  the  best  of  his  ability)  that  he  no  longer  remembered  the  protocol.  now  he  sat  on  a  stone  bench,  aron  found  himself  missing  rhys,  again.  

The gardens... it reminded her of the castle back in Iilyria. Faint memories of roses blooming, ice covering their petals as the inclement weather challenged them to survive. Beautiful and delicate things never made it in a country like that. Certainly not during the reign of the mad king. Nadia had been only sixteen when she was forced to leave, branded a traitor... sword strapped to her side, the mercenary absentmindedly took a seat on one of the benches, aching muscles enjoying the brief calm. Her eyes briefly flickered towards the man a few clicks away, either lost in thought or people watching. “This place looks like a proper circus...” Nadia muttered, her fingers tapping against her thigh as she observed the passerby's. “Peacocks prancing around in their most expensive jewels... meanwhile people outside these walls got about fuck all to their name.”

It had been a long day spent cooped up in the castle and Aeron had felt himself growing more and more restless by the minute as he tried to find entertainment or some useful purpose for himself around the castle when all it seemed he could do was wait. It had been a long time since he was anchored to one place for so long and he had eventually opted to take one of the horses out over the plains to clear his head. 

He had returned only when the weather began to change for the worse and made it back to the stables just before the downpour started. “I don’t suppose you could give me a hand?” He called out as he dismounted. “I want to get this old boy sheltered fast before he gets drenched.”

-

The castle. Truth be told, Nadia had avoided the rich and royals unless her job demanded it. With the wounds of the past still open, could anyone blame her weariness? She’d just finished collecting payment for another odd job when the rain came. Cold. Dark. Was it an omen for the times to come... Headed to the stables, a voice and the sound of disgruntled horse caught her attention as she rounded the corner. “Lucky timing...” She nodded in response, one gloved hand reaching out towards the animal. “Aren’t you handsome.” Nadia’s voice cooed before she turned to the man beside. “I’ve never met a horse who liked the sound of thunder.” The chuckle left her lips, the mercenary’s eyebrow hitching upwards. 

With the latest horror at the castle, Nik was doing what he did best: drinking. Even if he was not tied to the deceased in any way, the thought that a man might have been murdered by a wife furious at being tethered to him did not sit well. Had he not worked out an arrangement with his own wife all those years ao, the same might have happened to him.

The air outside was bitter and once Nik successfully had his drink in his hand, he made his way over to the fire to try and rid the chill from his bones but found himself stopped by a voice. “Can a man not take a drink by a warm fire these days?”

.

It’s the accent that catches Nadia off guard, ten years of her exile not erasing the Illyrian tongue from memory. It was the same one she’d tried so hard to conceal. As it was, the old Mad King still had his fervent supports hidden in back alleys and shady inns... and she wouldn’t fall on their sword. Winter eyes immediately look in his direction, curiosity causing her to gesture to the space. “Can you blame a woman for being weary of strangers? Especially in these times?” The smirk dissipates from her features as she leans back, ale in hand.

It’s like solving a rubik’s cube blind, trying to shift through memories to find if she knows the man. A nobleman? A sordid civilian? She can’t place him. “I suppose I can share the space... call it an olive branch.” The mercenary nods. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, and with all the times I’ve stayed, I’m familiar with most of the dirt boots drag in here. Stopping by or staying?”

The wedding. The death of a nobleman. Wasn’t their world always bathed in chaos? It was all countermoves and moves, royals deciding the fate of thousands with each chess piece they tossed aside. Nadia had long ago removed herself from politics... but when times were hard, her kind of work certainly benefitted. There had been the paranoid duke who ordered his brother's murder. After all, who could take his position if they were six feet under? The safe passage of a King's bastard, brought to a new country and away from persecution... at least until that contract was up. The task didn't matter so as long as her pockets were lined. 

The inglenook Nadia took to was near the fire, blue eyes surveying the rough crowd that came out to play. She always loved the evenings in No Man's Land- the lawlessness, the dirt, the opportunity. It was a stark change to her lost childhood... The shuffle of boots broke her out of her head, a smirk pulling at her lips before she took a sip of her ale. “Spot’s taken, love... unless you’re bringing something interesting to the table?”

i believe that is nadia rostoya, the exiled mercenary & ranger of iilyria. they are twenty-six years old and are known to be very jocular  & pragmatic trait, though they can also be very roguish & vengeful. they remind me of the crimson stain of a judas kiss, the sound of thunder echoing in the mountains, and the glimmer of a freshly sharpened blade . ( izabella, 23, cst, she/her )

Hi guys, I’m Izabella and super excited to plot/write here is a quick snippet on my girl.

TDLR;; Was born to into a military family, her father was a general. Trained for war most of her life however things went south when mad King Sacha started his crusade. Her father ended up dying in the war and Nadia blamed Sacha... driven by vengeance, she tried to kill the man however failed. In return, she’s been exiled and living as a sellsword.

BIOGRAPHY    +    WANTED CONNECTIONS