[center][color=thistle][h2]Lady Grey Coulbourne[/h2][/color]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/jftqPPu.jpg?1[/img]
Interacting with the Brandt Trout
[@holy soldier][/center]
[hr]
The scene was rapidly devolving into chaos. Before she knew what was happening, Grey was being pulled away by Nyle and Sir Jory into the frantic crowd. She couldn't get the vision of the King's bloody head staring blankly up at her from behind half-closed eyelids in her lap. The blood, cooling and sticky, was only seeping further through the layers of her gown. There was a crimson stain blossoming on her thighs and down her legs, though it did manage to reach up her legs and splatter on her chest as well. There were even a few droplets speckled across her face. 

People, terrified and scrambled, pushed and shoved, all trying to go or come, filled with the need to do [i]something[/i]. Because something had to be done, right? The king had been murdered. Whether that meant running to their families, or trying to just escape the horror, or mindlessly moving between the people, action was required. Grey had to fight to stay upright, let alone with her family. 

Losing track of them was inevitable. One moment she was following behind Sir Jory and Nyle, her cousin's hand gripping her wrist. The next she was stumbling to the side, trying desperately not to fall over and be crushed by the mob. A large middle-aged man had shoved into her, dislodging Nyle's grip. She saw her cousin look back, eyes wide, before she lost him in the sea of people. The current pushed Grey back and out, until she was finally free of the mob. 

Grey looked around, desperate to find her family. But she was too small to see over the crowd, and every second Sir Jory and Nyle only left her further behind. She yelled their names, but her voice was lost in the thunder of voices, all screaming and calling for their own loved ones.

Grey was vaguely aware of the fact that she was trembling. She needed to find them again, she needed to go home to her girls, she needed to get the dead king's blood [i]off[/i] of her and [i]un-see his blank eyes and rolling head[/i]. 

She turned and ran as fast as she could away from the crowd. Maybe if she could find –

Her half-formed thought was interrupted when she stumbled directly into a tall, oddly [i]calm[/i] man. A stable rock in a churning ocean, Grey couldn't help but use him to steady herself. She looked up to see a familiar face – Lord Jeyco Swan, the winner of the tournament. Except… he wasn't a lord at all. The memory of his banner flashed in her mind as she looked up at him. The bone white kraken, stained red with blood on a black flag. The same blood stained her.

[i]Pirate[/i]. 

Her eyes widened with realization. He… he'd done it. Hadn't he. He'd murdered the king and rolled his head up in that fearsome banner as a gruesome taunt when he won the tournament. 

She took a stuttering step back from him, eyes still locked on his one. Her lips parted to scream or call out or accuse… but no sound escaped her. She could only stare up at him with stunned eyes, abandoned by her voice.