#zarrinth

Those were not words Zarrinth expected to hear but ones which certainly made her sit up straight, her heart pounding against her chest. “You... you do?” Her voice sounded ridiculous in her own ears; hopeful and desperate and eager. Like a puppy. Like all of those men who had fallen for her own charms.

“Hmhm, I want you,” Isra continued, dipping low as if to capture Zarrinth’s lips in a kiss. “To help me set up the tent.” 

Zarrinth physically deflated, a soft huff on her lips as she glared at the other woman. “You are a cruel mistress, Isra. Exciting me so only to let me down.”

It wasn't often one of The Kingdoms reached out to the others. There were alliances but most were as fragile as spun glass. And as sharp as when the knife sunk into the proverbial back. It was an intriguing notion, and curious enough to catch the eyes of Zarrinth. And of Mother which meant it was important enough to attend. The Kingdom of Feleris had sent out a call to each kingdom requesting aid. They had also sent out a general call and request for Mercenaries just in case the Kingdoms ignored the call.

Vallonde had sent one of their brutes - a Knight decked in armour she could see her face in. Ridiculous. It hadn’t saved him from her blade. He’d been pretty too - all blue eyed and chiselled jaw. There had been no stories on his hands, no scar marking his battle history. Not her type in the end. She had liked people with stories, with history etched across their features and ingrained into them. The Knight had been so new he had almost bled green.

The meeting itself had primarily been quite boring. Talk on about the darkness which was creeping in. Whole fields of livestock had been found dead, crops failing, villages falling ill or slaughtered. And on it seemd to go. How they had allowed it to go on so long Zarrinth didn’t know, it was foolish to allow such a thing to fester. As the meeting went on Zarrinth found herself watching those around her, as always. There was something incredibly fascinating to Zarrinth about people, all there little foibles and intricaces. From the warrior whose foot didn’t stop tap, tap, tapping against the dark wood table leg. An archer whose hands  constantly danced over her bow. Some seemed as bored as Zarrinth while others hung on every word.

No matter how much the scholar prattled on they were getting no where. Feleris were known for its Scholars, for the age old Libraries that housed information Zarrinth itched to read. Maybe one day. If Mother stopped sending her across the Kingdoms. There would be no finding out what it was until they were out there, Zarrinth dying simply to move. She disliked being in the open so much despite her chosen seat against a wall. Here there was no where to hide and no need to but such a thing made her antsy, her fingers itching to check every dagger hidden in the thick black cloak which covered her.

Finally they were released, the Scholar pointing them toward an Inn where they could rest and plan. Some easily moved into groups, a natural seperation as Zarrinth rose and followed. It would be best to work with others at least first. Where she wished to go was dangerous - she needed cannon fodder. As the others moved she carefully watched as most of them left, her eyes drawn to two who lingered almost close together. There was a certain tension which burned between them, a mismatched-ness which seemed to work. While Zarrinthe required cannon fodder she wanted cannon fodder which could fight and they both looked capable. She hoped. The male towered above her, a wall of brute strength which easily appealed to her. Zarrinth’s eye lingered on the female for a time - she was beautiful and most likely far deadlier than she appeared.