[center][img]https://imgur.com/XShqxhB.png[/img]
[h1][u]Elys Adair[/u][/h1][/center]
[i][color=gray]Oratorio - The Adventurer's District, //A3[/color][/i]
[sub][@SilverPaw][/sub]

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Her exhaustion had gotten the better of her. She had inherently kept all her remaining attention on the sounds around her, avoiding the masses that moved around her in the city that stirred in the morning - that she had failed to detect one of those masses, crimson-stained, was headed directly for her. It wasn’t until she felt a light touch on her shoulder that she was alerted, and by that time, it was far too late.

She could ‘see’ them. The crimson flame was surrounded by masses that stuck idly by him. Friends? Followers?

[quote=Crimson][color=af002a]“Hello, there,”[/color][/quote]

[b]“Last time someone thought to put a hand on me, they lost it in one clean sweep,”[/b] Elys growled, hand holding her battered sword twitching. Her chin jerked sharply to his hand. [b]“Remove it.”[/b]

[quote=Crimson][color=af002a]“You know I could have attacked you now as you’d done when you first met me. You know what would happen if I did, don’t you?”[/color][/quote]

That’s when Elys paled under her blindfold. The masses attentive to the crimson flame seemed a touch more ominous in their presence now. How many were there… four, five? Too many to take on with her bare fists. Even too many with her staff, wedged in her other grip around the loot she held. 

She couldn’t fight with a broken sword.

[i]He[/i] knew that.

And he was [i]furious[/i].

Almost immediately, her heart sunk a little, trepidation pooling in her veins. But she refused to bow her head, staring aloofly at where she assumed the crimson flame’s eyes were.

[quote=Crimson][color=af002a]“Remember that. If you have any [i]honour[/i], you will find a way to repay me.”[/color][/quote]

[b]“Repay you?!”[/b] Elys hissed. There was no way she would do anything of the sort. It was only her in the vision ascending the stairs, [i]no one else[/i]. To even consider another Ichor-blessed as a friend, or even in non-hostility, was blasphemy. 

[b]“We don’t have that luxury. Surely you, of all people, would know this.”[/b] She said, biting down on her tongue before she said anything further. She was at a severe disadvantage. She needed her sword fixed, among a growing list of extreme necessities, in order to survive. 

Right now, she could hardly defend herself.

But perhaps it was for the best that she didn’t have her sword, torn as she was about the reality of being an Ichor-blessed. Torn over having to end the others in order to survive.

Abruptly, she turned away. [b]“I wish to be left alone.”[/b]

He seemed ready to leave anyway, and as she clenched tighter to the sword in her hand, she could only feel a faint sense of humiliation, having to ask for pardon instead of simply taking her leave.

If he left in peace, she would have to hurry. Sell her loot, and head to the Bladerights.