[center][i]"The sword is the self. Its edge is the mind."[/i]- Ansei Frandar Hunding,[/center]

The light breeze of summer’s morning was cool against Kiania's skin as it pulled at the edges of her cowl just so. The corners of her traveling cloak took up the motion of the wind whenever it changed direction, but otherwise trailed behind her lithe form. It seemed only a short time ago that the fresh air had slowly become supplemented with the scent of pine trees as party, the Dragons Eye, moved deeper into Falkreath hold. It had been a rather uneventful journey thus far, and aside from a run in with a few wolves in a few days ago, nothing eventful had taken place; but by Tava was it cold! Kiania was no stranger to the cold or even freezing temperatures, having spent most of her life in the ice cold waste of the Alik’r during the nights when Mundus was no longer gracing the land with its unforgiving heat. 

Still she found she was no fan of the colder northern realm of Skyrim, but she was sure her training would help he persevere. To take her mind of the growing cold, Kiania let her mind wonder to other subjects. Namely that of her traveling companions on this most important of missions. The first that had caught her interest first was an old man, a Breton she would guess from his slight frame, or maybe a very frail Nord. His milky white eyes and jerky strut made it clear the old man was blind, that fact alone grew a kind of empathy for the man; even if he did seem a few whetstones short of a sharper mind to say the least. Aside from the peculiar old man, there was another strange sight. The first was what appeared to be, by all appearances, a Reachmen, or more acutely women. 

Her chosen attire made it clear enough to her origins, and the thought of how out of shorts she appeared struck Kiania as a potential problem in the near future, after all their main goal was one of anonymity. Perhaps a change of wardrobe was in order sooner than later? Already many were eyeing the group, mostly Alana, and it would seem merging seamlessly in with the flux of bodies heading into Skyrim was now a fools hope. Perhaps her marital talents would make up for her lack of discretion. Kiania sighed, her breath fogging in the cold air as she considered how they would address that problem. The other two of their group seemed more akin to being inconspicuous. 

One from what Kiania could judge by their height and slight frame was a high elf, of that she had little doubt. She didn’t like the way the mer handled himself, something about him just rubbed her the wrong way. But it was likely her prejudices that were rearing their head, so she would hold her judgment on the mer until she had come to know him better as an individual. The next member of their little group was a hard one to pin down, to be sure, reclusive bordering on anti-social; he had said the least of everyone thus far, with the mad old man being the most talkative of the lot, though he rarely if ever made any sense. She guessed him to be a Breton, he was too short and pale to be an altmer or dunmer, and lacked any grace expected of a bosmer.
 
She found she disliked him almost as much as the high elf, for no better reason then she merely found his presence unsettling. He had the looks of a killer on him, and reminded her of the bandits she had rescued her father from years prior. She could not fathom why exactly that was though, for by all first appearances he seemed a rather unintimidating a man she had ever met. Kiania had been on the road long enough to know that appearances were often deceiving however. Kiania pulled her cloak tighter around her frame as she inconspicuously took in the many people passing them by. It seemed the group had stopped for the time being before the preacher raving about gods, wheels, and whatever else, she was not really listening.

Kiania was itching to get started herself, though it seemed the group as a while as intent on waiting. Well if they were going to stop for the moment they might as well attempt to assemble at least the vague idea of a plan upon infiltrating Falkreath proper.

Head bowed and speaking just loud enough for her companions to hear Kainia began. “Well, it would seem the first leg of our journey is near at an end.” She clapped her hands together against the cold, warming them by rubbing them together. “I assume everyone has an idea of how to go about the next leg of our purpose?” She left it cryptic to an extent; they all knew what she was talking about. There was hardly a need to say anything that would mark their true purpose there was. Not this close to their first objective.