[h2]Syrena Sinclair - Basilmeron Castle Courtyard[/h2]

Syrena was starting to think this was a bad idea. When her father had first come to her and told her that Basileus Truculenter had agreed to let her apprentice the kingdom's arch mage she had been excited. Maybe, finally someone would be able to teach her how to subdue the flames. Brother Malachi was a nice man and his meditations techniques had been a great help to her but he had little experience in magic and what was happening to Syrena went far beyond his knowledge.

Syrena had thought coming to the capitol was her best choice. She thought she could do some good in the kingdom rather than just let the flames rage. Now however standing among the Reclaimers of Peace Syrena was feeling both out of place and extremely nervous. What would she do if one of them wanted to talk to her? At the thought Syrena clutched her tome, Arma Infernum closer to her chest. 

The blue bound book was meant to contain her powers and let her channel them safely when she needed to in battle. It wasn't perfect though. In certain instances her magic had built to the point that the pages could no longer contain it and huge bursts of flame had exploded out of it and her alike. The tome was a help and a great comfort but as for controlling her powers it was little more than a bandage. The real problems festered underneath.

Syrena pulled the hood of her robe up further, casting her face into shadow. She was shorter than most everyone present which meant looking at her most people only saw the top of her hood and if she was looking at them, her eyes peaking out.

The robe itself was green with two yellow lines running over it. They were standard issue at the capitol. Apparently this identified her as a user of Anima Magic. [i]Red would have been more suitable.[/i] She thought slightly bitterly. That's the color everyone's skin turned when exposed to her power.

Syrena was so deep in thought that she didn't register the approached of a man until he'd knelt down so he face was level with hers. Syrena gave a slight squeak of surprise and took too steps back, the symbols on her tome started to glow ever so slightly brighter. Once her shock subsided somewhat she peered at him through her hood pulled low. He was older, but then that wasn't saying much as every one of the Reclaimers was older then Syrena. His hair was short and black, his skin pale and he wore garish clothing. Striking purples and yellows and fur that clashed violently with one another.

Syrena could feel her magic bubbling distractedly below the surface though it seemed dormant enough now. Hesitantly she looked into the strangers eyes. "D-did you n-n-need someth-th-thing?" she asked, not holding his gaze for more than a second or two. What if he said something she didn't like? What if the inferno beneath her skin got excited? What if... what if she hurt him... or any of them.

The Reclaimers had apparently been assigned a disproportionate number of mages to knights but not many of them looked suited to help Syrena with her problem. The anima users mostly looked young and inexperienced and the other ones, like this man that knelt before her reeked of a different kind of magic. What if no one could help her? What if no one could save her?

[h2]Marcus Ambrosias - Basilmeron Castle Courtyard[/h2]
Marcus was enjoying himself. Which admittedly he thought he didn't really deserve but at least for a few moments it wouldn't hurt anyone for him to be social and gallant. As the thief queen made her speech Marcus smiled slightly. Now that woman had gall, Marcus liked her almost immediately.

The air in the courtyard was remarkably different from that of the monastery. With the Brotherhood there had always been an overwhelming feeling of emptiness. No that wasn't quite the right word. Calm and quite fit the bill more closely. Everything in the monastery including the monks had been subdued and calm, collected and calculated. It always felt planned and therefore contrived. Marcus much preferred this, there was uncertainty and excitement and adventure in the air.

Marcus decided that sitting quietly in the corner would do him no good so instead he walked up to the thief queen who had a small group of people forming around her. He clapped her on the back, probably a little harder than was necessary. "Well met indeed mi'lady." he said inclining his head to her. "I am Brother Ambrose but most people call me Marcus. I'm the healer and the spiritual guide for the Reclaimer's mission. I suppose I can assume that your talents lie in the use of a blade and opening doors?" he said genially with a smile on his face. 

Nothing about his appearance or his manor suggested anything but a content and friendly monk, glad to be out in the world. It was not strictly true but Marcus saw no reason why he shouldn't be social while he atoned for his crimes.