[center][color=darkseagreen][b][i]Annalynne[/i][/b][/color][/center]

[color=darkseagreen]Armistice - Eastern Gate - 250 HP[/color]
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It has been years since she's been home. The busy cobbled streets of the market city were now so foreign to her, despite how much they had -not- changed over the years. Even the remnants of her childhood home. Isolated and abandoned, charred wood and warped metal littered the shambled ruins. The smoke obviously had lifted, but the memories were still there. It stood, broken and battered, forgotten, and so far removed from the happenings of town, it was as if its story had been swept under the rug. She couldn't help but chuckle, drawing a parallel to her own situation. 'The life of a house' - so stationary, so uninvolved and predictable. A wry smile tugged at her lips, as that was all about to change.

25 years was a long time. And while other jobs had put her in the vicinity of her former abode, she made it a point never to linger for too long, and there was never the need nor the care to make such an effort. The past was the past, and nostalgia just wasn't worth it. This was different though. Whichever way it ended, she knew this would be her last chance to take that lonely trip down memory lane. If she was truly honest with herself, she might have admitted that the whole ordeal was a suicide mission. Then again, some would view death as a release, not a punishment. She had come so close so many times, danced the line and lived. It wasn't just the thrill of dying that captivated her, but the possibility of success, and coming out of this alive. Besides, it was too late. her i's were already dotted, her t's were already crossed. And anything not directly handled by the guild was a welcomed change. It begged the thought though, how much worse would the ICC be?

It wasn't a very long journey to the gates of Armistice. She made sure had enough time to visit her home town and still arrive before everyone else. Being in the business of information was quite helpful in this instance, some were harder to dig up the down and dirty while others, she had mountains of intel on. Different orders were represented here, The Enclave, the Burning Light ... but none had disturbed her as much as the hulking giant she spied amongst the group. The 'God Eaters'. She'd faced many brutes in her time, her many secret escapades and endeavors signed in blood. The 'God Eaters' were legend though, and not one to be trifled with. It was very rare that she let someone rattle her so much. But this someone shook her to the core. There were also more women in their group than men. This also didn't sit very well with her. An image crossed her mind, corpses of her comrades litter the field, not from a battle with the enemy, but with each other. 

She stood, propped up against the city wall, her arms folded over her chest, hood tugged over her head, merely observing the day unfold before her. [color=#cc9900]"Funny looking dog you got there."[/color], someone prattled off to the beast. A snicker snaked its way from her mouth. [color=darkseagreen][i]Brazen, if not stupid[/i][/color], she thought. She could very well come to like this one. It would be nice to have someone's back for a change, and even nicer for someone to have her back. Looking around at the others, there were a few that had piqued her interest, whether just by their look or demeanor, the information on them she had gathered, or by the fragments of their personality they had shared within that brief interaction. But her line of work had never afforded her friendships. It would be foolish to think she would have that luxury now. It was a nice dream, even if for a moment. One that was interrupted when the giant returned the comment with a few of his own, engaging the woman in friendly conversation. Her body stiffened with awkwardness. As standoffish as she may have seemed, it was never her intention. Merely to stay out of the way, to stay out of view and just observe. She was never good with groups, rather, she just wasn't good with people. Forming attachments often got people killed. And at this point, their main goal was to stay alive through this mission. 

A gloved hand reached inside her duster and pulled out a small silver flask. She uncorked it, never taking her eyes off the group of people before her. Their interactions seemed so natural, despite the oddities and awkward stares. She tipped her head back slightly, sipping from the flask. [color=darkseagreen]"Gods help us"[/color], she muttered softly, returning her flask to its rightful hiding place.