[center][h2][color=maroon]Fleur Moreau[/color][/h2][/center]
	A light groan was heard as a pale, unearthly woman awoke early that day.  For the desert it was in, the township of Dust was surprisingly cool in the hours between dusk and dawn, and many of the beds on the frontier were equipped for this constantly shifting weather.  These thick covers were pushed aside to reveal the nearly bare body of Fleur Moreau, one of the only female engineers to be taking part in the era of the steam engine.  She stood quickly as her body was shocked into action by the cold, prompting her to gather her various items of clothing and armor from the floor and redress as fast as she could.  [color=maroon]"Ugh, as much as I need this outfit to survive, I hate it..."[/color]

	A solid ten minutes of replacing the complicated ensemble later, the engineer only had the dark leather corset and her pauldron left, one of which she would actually need help with.  She grimaced at the thought, then slipped the foundation on and focused for a brief moment, the black ink on her left arm lighting up a bright orange and emitting a low-level light as a pair of small wisps formed around the ends of the lace in the back of the garment.  Together, they weaved themselves through the reinforced holes, tightening up and tying off the string at the top holes with a bow, along with a double-knot for good measure.  The inky writing and shapes on the girl's left arm settled once again with the leather piece in place, earning a nod from the spellsword as she buckled her eerie armor piece into place and picked up a golden medal from the side table.  She examined it with a few turns, then clipped it to her shoulder and secured it to her corset with a similar chain.  Lastly, she retrieved her dagger and sword, slipping both of them into their respective scabbards before doing a quick check of all her items.  Finding everything to be in order, she smiled and pulled open the door to her rented room on the upper floor of the Sleeping Bear Inn.

	The scent of alcohol and tobacco was already thick in the bar, despite the early hour, which oddly invigorated the woman.  In a sense, this was the only crowd that would ignore her pale skin and red eyes.  Sure, it was mostly because of her decently-sized breasts, but beggars can't be choosers.  She gave the bartender a thankful nod as she descended the stairs, likely due to some obscure agreement that had allowed her to stay a few nights while she passed through.  It wasn't anything sexual, no, just a few lights had blown out the previous week, and she offered to fix them for a reduced fee.  Being the gearhead she was, it was an extremely simple matter.  As she neared the door, she was pulled to the side by the town's drunk, already smelling of booze and in desperate need of a new pair of pants.  [color=gray]"Yah know... I know what yer are, lady!  Yer one o' dem bloodsuckers, from waaaaay down south... those FUCKIN' swamps 'er whatever!"[/color]  The boozer sloppily pulled a hatchet from his belt while the patrons of the tavern looked on with unease.  No one liked the drunk, yet no one wanted a vampire in their midst...

	Truly a dilemma for the people of Dust that were already thirsty.

	[color=maroon]"Mon cher, I do not mean to cause problems.  I'm just passing through on a journey."[/color]  Fleur, always having taken a passive route when she could, attempted to push past the man, and was forcibly shoved into the wall this time.  Now having to listen to a grown man rant and rave about the false things about her, she crossed her arms under her chests and sighed.  Today was gonna be one of [i]those[/i] days.

	[color=gray]"What kind 'er jerney?  To bite the entire world!?  I could kill ye right now 'n no one would care!"[/color]  He grinned like a madman, the thick stubble on his face wrinkling.  [color=gray]"Er maybe... OOF, FUCK!"[/color]  The color drained from the drunk's face as he flew back a few feet and bounced off the wall, a welt already forming on the back of his head while he fell unconscious.  The same orange glow from earlier was fading from Fleur's arm.  Quite simply, she had given the poor bastard an open-handed strike to the stomach, along with a bit of magic to give it that extra [i]'umf'[/i] needed to get that point across.  She shook her head at the man and tutted him, then came over to his limp body.

	[color=maroon]"Life lesson:  Never threaten a mage if you have no magic of your own."[/color]  She flicked the side of his head and made her way for the exit, giving a warm smile and a friendly wave to any patrons she happened to pass by.  She soon pushed open the doors to the saloon to find a fellow girl in what appeared to be some form of military uniform.  The Dhampir came up beside the girl and leaned on the railing that defined the porch of the inn from Rail Street, flipping her hood up to shield herself from the morning sun.  [color=maroon]"Mon chere, what brings you to the middle of nowhere?  You look like someone with purpose."[/color]  She paused for a moment, the grinned slightly.  [color=maroon]"Pardon my rudeness.  Fleur Moreau, Airship Engineer."[/color]  She leaned on her cryptic left arm and extended her right hand towards the other female, awaiting a handshake.  Across the street and a building or two down, she spotted another person matching her gender, staring out a window from a proper bar setting and looking extremely bored.  Mostly just because, she made a slight beckoning motion towards her with her left hand.

[center][@TheWindel][@Fairess][/center]