@oferebus

What was supposed to be a routine surveying expedition had turned into an ugly fight as Ayane and her company of scouts struggled to evade the Freemen. Ever since discovering the compound, they had been followed. There was always that risk when scouting enemies. With their base compromised, they had been relentless in their pursuit. The scouts needed to be silenced before they could make a report. 

They had finally been caught and surrounded in the foothills. Her allies pierced and blooded the Freemen soldiers while Ayane weakened them with poison and targeted ligaments and limbs to cripple them. 

A searing hot pain wrenched through her shoulder and she cried out as it stabbed down her now limp arm. She spun on her attacker and used her remaining arm to swipe her dagger across his belly, catching him by surprise. He staggered back and clutched his belly. Novice. They were lucky these men were not better trained. They were green and struggled to control their reflexes. But looking on at battle she groaned. Both sides were in bad shape, but without her arm this fight was already lost. Two freemen were bearing down on Nolan, and the rest of their allies were either dead or unconscious. 

Ayane dashed over to Nolan’s side. “Hold your breathe” she whispered to him, then loosed a smoke bomb that filled the air with a thick, foul smelling haze. She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the smoke and away from the fight. “We can’t stay.” she urged. He did not argue. The soldiers slowly lumbered out from the haze, disoriented from the vapors. One pulled out a crossbow and aimed for them. The arrows flew far and wide, except for one. “Fuck” Ayane cursed as it dug into her leg. They couldn’t stop moving, and they did not. Nolan glanced sidelong at her and reached around to help support her weight. Every step sent a stabbing pain down her leg, but she moved as quickly as she could. 

@oferebus

The farmers had been quick to point Aeliana to the sprawling estate home of the local lord and -- after struggling to understand the trade tongue spoken through thick Orlesian accents -- she had been surprised at the respect with which they spoke of him. Despite the fact that the man was relatively young, exceedingly wealthy and scandalously Nevarran in name, he seemed to compensate his workers well. Many of them were elvhen and had fled far less favourable conditions for the greens of his pastures.

Aeliana was hoping to take advantage of this lordling’s good will herself. She’d been ambushed on the road by a group of bandits with... less than desirable intentions. While she’d been able to kill two and wound another, they had made off with most of her supplies -- including her coin with which to buy more. The local people had been relatively kind to a strange Tevinter woman, offering her food and shelter for the night, but she needed someone to offer her sanctuary or work until she could pay her way home once more.

“Venhedis... fasta vass...”

The estate rose tidy and well-maintained around her. It was lovely, in an austere sort of way that most Orlesians were too pretentious to manage. Smiling servants looked up from their work, hair plastered against their faces under the heat of the sun, and pointed her in the direction of the main entrance. Aeliana’s boots padded against the immaculately polished steps. The doors were tall and imposing, and her hand looked small -- delicate -- as she knocked.

A pause. Nobody answered.

“Kaffas.” She hissed between her teeth before gripping the heavy gilt door knocker. It pounded against the door -- thoom thoom thoom -- to announce her arrival.

{ ➴ } ; —-

              ” do you expect an                       H O N E S T                                answer? “            & his voice grew hushed,            for a mere few seconds,             —-almost  h e s i t a n t ;                  as if the answer truly               MATTERED to anyone            besides himself,            & as if his continual self-hatred            would cease upon responding. 

                                   his grip TIGHTENING around                                   any last bit of dignity he                                           dared to salvage —                                   because the answer was                                           f e a r f u l l y  s i m p l e ,                                     you see,                                             it always was. 

           he’d always been a selfish man ;            never choosing to SHARE           his words with the likes of y o u                     failing to see any                     warmth left in anyone :            they’re all the enemy,           & no one’s going to save him,                          he’s left defenseless—           he’d be a fool to think otherwise. 

( mumbled latin, a crash, and an ominous cat squealing. ) 

   aiden was very fond of cats––he had had a pet cat ever since   he was born because his mother also adored the creature. He had   been heading home when he spotted the grey tabby cross the street   in front of him and pause looking at him. " Hey there... " He murmured   before bending down to extend an arm to it, " Nice kitty––" it hissed   before he got a chance to pet it and sunk its canines into his finger.