#archras

A puzzled mind searches, almost frantically, for a response. It takes a moment before he tells her. “No.” A rough hand moves back to his side as he struggles to find answer to the question himself. Did he just... move? Thoughts he can’t put into words float around, indescribable reasons that he can’t make sense of. Only two form something coherent. “I don’t know why I’m here, actually.” To check on you... the words don’t reach his mouth.

         ❛ OH? WHAT IS IT YOU have there? ❜ mike speaks with a curious tone. his eyebrows slightly raised with interest.

     “—Ah.” Sasha’s shoulders bunch at her neck as Linqui’s attention turns, expectation weighing heavy in her chest. Her grip tightens around a crudely tied stack of shortbreads, a self-reminder of why she was sent here. It was no secret that the Corp was underfunded. Why the superiors had chosen her to be one of the few sent out to charm the heiress, however, was lost on her.

     “A gift for my lady!” She offers the dappled cookies with a bowed head. “I really enjoyed making them! I’m not allowed to use the good stuff in our pantries…”

Lingqi’s amber gaze moved from the crudely-presented foodstuffs to the soldier who carried them with an expression on her countenance that denoted intrigue. The brunette before her was not like what she expected from a stereotypical soldier, especially one from the Survey Corps. She had always imagined the sort from those parts of the army to be more solemn and rigid, but having the casual and rather jovial girl as her first encounter with a Survey Corps trooper was in the midst of breaking that pre-determined image she always had. 

“My thanks.” The young mistress nodded and smiled slightly, took the stack given by the soldier and set them down on the tea table beside her. “Come, sit.” She said as she pulled a chair and offered it to the brunette then sat on the chair across. Lingqi gave instructions to the nearby attendant to prepare tea for her and the Survey Corps soldier to which the attendant duly nodded and departed to bring the tea set.  

Lingqi has heard of the Survey Corps’ campaign to gather support from Sina volunteers and was willing to negotiate with those who were interested in the cause, Lingqi being part of the latter. After all, with all the resources, manpower, and heaven knew what else was there used in recent expeditions, the silver haired girl understood why the Corps were in rather dire straits as of the moment. 

When the attendant returned with their tea, Lingqi nodded and thanked her attendant who bowed and backed away to a comfortable distance for the two ladies to discuss among themselves. 

¬¬brows furrow with  the sudden lift of fog-laden breeze , skin is flush with fatigue ; even as she dozes , left heel taps  , incessant - beating a gravelly staccato into fissure-veined pavement .

scarlet -STOP- sign. serves as support for her pounding head ; fingers twitch minutely (sporadic) , tracing movements of the night past ; lines & angles of ink , infinite ,  sprawling ;; plummeting fulcrums & pivots that spin like sycamore seeds ;; numbers innumerable , driven as ever into the folds of her brain ; her knuckles are swollen , still faintly imprinted with grooves of canvas + pull-rings , fruits of after-dark labor rolled tight & tucked under one arm...would this be jackpot?

!...head jerks up sharply as scent |most singular !| slips joltingly sweet (piquant) into her parched airways & she turns- gaze whetting , nares quivering :

Cinnamon .

a girl - hair dark , drawn up from spritely shoulders  , tongue protruding slightly in blissful concentration ; on her knees a tower of white packages balance precarious , teetering ; wrapping parchment moist with syrupy condensation : .

cognac eyes widen___ ;; C i n n a m o n  rolls…the good kind- flat and stout ; thickset currants bulge through the translucent packing & innards snarl as she curses her endeavour-crazed self ; no food had passed her mouth this morn nor yon night . she had been seized , rapt , by drawing fever , only just released as today’s dawn coloured the heavens.

confit-laden girl rises whilst wistful one starts , expression almost anguished beneath heavy lids ; the column of pastries trembles & one brick topples loose as bus trundles to a halt before them ; doors unfold wheezily & the girl places a foot inside_

she scrambles up after  her , wind-chilled palms lurching off the bench ;; brunette turns  , quizzical____________?  ; t’other purses her lips lest she slaver-

“Look, I’m not saying you can’t hit it, but... you know what? Yeah, you can’t hit that.” The reason he even agreed to come on this little escapade is lost on him at the moment. The other decided to sharpen her archery skills, and took to the woods to do just that. Boredom, maybe, was why he followed; maybe it was intrigue. If it was anything else, it wasn’t coming to mind.

      “Justus Mero, Imperial Lieutenant of the Penitus Oculatus. I am here in the name of her Imperial Majesty, and am to conduct you to the Imperial City for a private audience with her imperial grace.” A soldier accompanied by five others in similar armors - and in his hand, a scroll with the imperial seal. Agents of the Order were a rare sight in Skyrim, for they usually limited their activity to the immediate surroundings of the currently reigning monarch.