[table][row][center][h3]Artemisia[/h3]
[i][b]Garleton[/b][/i][/center][/row][cell]

Intent on the mesmerizing spectacle offered by the lady dancer, Artemisia remained wholly ignorant of her surroundings. A practiced eye might have caught discreet repositionings or vague momentum, but the dark mage either didn't notice or didn't look in the first place, which to a sharp observer no doubt suggested inexperience. Her blithe unawareness allowed an unseen sneakthief, having identified her as a likely mark, to draw nearer and nearer, until the viper was poised to strike. Before he could, however, Trace made his move, walloping the vagabond with his spear's solid shaft. Startled, Artemisia jerked away, thinking for a moment that he'd meant to hit her, but instead of an assailant she found a scrawny kid on the ground, struggling to get air back into his lungs. She watched him scurry away for a moment before giving her full, albeit dubious attention to the lancer. 

For someone who'd just assaulted a man in broad daylight, Trace seemed incredibly casual. He greeted her with nonchalance before looking away, simply placing his back against the wall where he stood and resuming his observation of the dancer. Baffled by his manner, Artemisia stared for a moment before looking back down at her book. In the pregnant silence that followed, she awkwardly entered another few lines in her journal to describe what happened, putting together something to say at the same time. She didn't like talking to people for no reason, particularly people who looked as boring as Trace did, but unless she missed her guess he'd just saved her from a pickpocket. That warranted some kind of gratitude, but why did he act so indifferently? It wasn't like she was gregarious to begin with, and it put her off.

“Good...morning,” Artemisia greeted after way too many seconds, her voice stilted and just as flat as Trace's. Whether or not it was still morning was the least of her concerns. “Um. Thank you very much. That fellow...slipped my peripherals. I was fortunate...to be under your vigilance.” Perhaps, she reasoned, she had better get moving. The dance had to be just about over, after all. Yet, fleeing right now would be more than a little impolite after this stranger just helped her. “Is...is there something that I may do for you in recompense?” Forcing herself to look at the uninteresting-looking man, she gave her best smile. His helmet's shadow obscured his eye color somewhat, but they sure weren't pink.[/cell]

[cell][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wW8IBnQ.png[/img]
__________________________
Status: [color=lawngreen]Awkward[/color]
[/center][u]Class:[/u] Occultist
[u]Inv:[/u] Vulnerary, Book of Secrets
[u]New entry                                     [/u]
[sub][i]I just witnessed a bizarre occurrence. A stranger approached whilst I, spellbound, absorbed a gorgeous dancer's performance, and attacked some miscreant sidling up behind me. Then, rather than initiate normal conversation, he just stiffly bids me well and stands there, not even looking at me. Was what just happened not unusual? His demeanor is so freakishly casual given the abnormality that just transpired. I would say something if I could, but this silence is rock-hard. I fear I must try anyway.[/i][/sub][/cell][/table]