[centre][h1][color=f9ad81]Laurel Mith[/color][/h1][/centre]

[color=Gray]Whatever Laurel had expected, or perhaps feared, her first experience of Exodus had exceeded both with its extravagant displays of wealth and decadence. Life truly was different for those in the richer nations but if even half of the tales were true of the Freyja people, Laurel felt no incentive to move from her relatively impoverished realm. Rather, she had been reluctant to make the journey to Exodus but the Princess had insisted on her presence and Laurel had finally consented, sensing a degree of trepidation in her friend. Some of her own anxiety had dissipated with the decision, the knowledge that she could make certain of the Princess' safety with her own two eyes easing her worries.

She had bid farewell to the main group for a short time and had moved on ahead to explore Exodus as much as she could. Having some idea of the lay of the land would help boost her confidence but there was just too much to search out, the vastly more numerous population and their affluence creating a metropolis dwarfing Earthica several times over.

It felt wrong, though, to not have wilderness, such as it was, within easy reach. The comfort of easy isolation was something she would miss, Laurel realised, as she paced the streets of Exodus, noting the stalls and any significant looking buildings. Truth be told she had lost track of her surroundings some time ago but perhaps her memory might be sparked usefully if she was in the area again? It was the best she could hope for and, realising that she was reaching the limits of usefulness in her exploration, she turned back on herself.

Eyes followed her as she walked, the surcoat she wore over her hunting leathers emblazoned proudly with Earthica's insignia and marking her loyalty out for all to see. At first she had refused the garment but one of the older guards had insisted she wear it for her own protection, reasoning that no one would be stupid enough to attack someone from any of the royal entourages in broad daylight. A lone Levonian woman looking lost in the wrong part of a foreign city, though? She would be prey to near enough any desperate lurker and she had no desire to get into unnecessary fights so she had yielded to the man's wisdom. Now, she was happy she had for the looks cast her way were curious, searching and occasionally hostile but never threatening. The thin cloth was like a shield against indiscriminate violence.

She passed a tavern, hearing the sounds of brawling inside, and quickened her pace; getting into such a melee would surely not be expected of someone wearing Earthica's colours. A thirst for ale did rise, though, as she smelt the questionable aroma of stale beer and heard the raucous cheering of drunken onlookers to the brawl.

As she made her way back toward the royal Levonian entourage she offered up a brief prayer that the Freyja would not enforce their twisted taste for blood onto all their visitors.[/color]