[i]Three days prior... Larvik, Hindersfjall[/i] [indent] The sorceress of Lyria sat back in her chair, one leg swung over the knee of the other - her ankle gently swinging from side to side. Odd coloured eyes watched the slouching figure of the woman sat across from her. A blonde woman of warrior build, shoulders draped in white wolf furs and a scar across her cheek. The rich sea foam green of her watering eyes stood out the most though. Hells, the scar made the woman even more beautiful to the sorceress. She was but a near silent observer of this woman’s heartache, the soft and melancholic secrets behind the sword, shield and armour. In a relenting slur, the Skelligan took a giant swig from her tankard, patting her lips with the back of her hand. The amber lager sat against the rough skin of her hands. "Gods'll nae help me wi' me problems Miss. Need just a good tellin' in me ear morelike. Fact is, you've a good listenin' one yersel. Been listening to my troubles for going on half the hours of this night. Damned storm, holding us in these walls like we're nae but hostages." At the mention of it, the chocolate haired woman turned her face to the storm outside. She’d chosen a window seat - and the glass was coated in a constant layer of water as it came down practically horizontal. "Well, this [i]is[/i] Hindarsfjall…” she answered. A hand reached out, palm turned upwards to the ceiling as she gave a light shrug, taking a dainty sip from her flute. Her own bottle of Erveluce, a crisp and expensive wine that was probably best to be served on a summer's day, and enjoyed while overlooking the meadows and vineyards of Toussaint. A storm in Skellige seemed to call for a warmer drink… Still, the woman drank it happily. “Storms are to be expected. Still, I've not seen wind wrench trees from the ground as I did today." The Skelligan chuckled at that. "Oh aye, ye'll nae see it on the continent in the cities yer from. Yer a traveller, ain't you? Bonnie as a woman I've ever seen - and those eyes o' yers too... I'd think ye were under a curse were't not for that amulet. A noblewoman, ye got tae be I'll say." It was said with bated breath all of a sudden, and the Skelligan held her tankard before her face, her gaze suddenly intense as she met the sapphire and emerald eyes of her company. In the ambient lighting of the tavern, it was as if they were glowing ever brighter. She felt herself soften under them. Trusting in the eyes of the traveller, the magical traveller. "You're correct, I’ve travelled here from the Continent...” the sorceress replied matter-of-factly with an uncannily feline smirk that gave a fleeting glimpse at dimples in her cheeks. "But aye. In love with Viggo I am,” the Skelligan sighed. Forgetting once more in her apprehension, “and I dare say I aelways will be. I wish I wasn't... Wish I would stop all this, but, listen Miss... I feels like I'd rather spend the time wi' im that I can - evens if we aren't together. I'd rather be wi' im like that, than not wi' im at all... I know it. I used tae think he wasn't happy with Hella... He used to tell me as such, got me hopes up then like. And then? Then found out she was with bairn..." Her nostrils flared and she went back for the tankard, draining it of the last dregs and bringing it down to the table with a clatter. The flush of intoxication was apparent on her cheeks - and there was something about the way the warrior stared that suggested something else was at play. "And yet you still want to be with him?" The sorceress asked, bringing her hand back to the table to trace circles against the grain of the wood with her finger. "Aye. Aye I do. He's been so nice tae me Miss, you don't understand. Sometimes I think he's the only one who actually knows who I truly am..." While the warrior took a breath, as if to continue, the sorceress straightened in her chair, leaning forwards. The finger pushing towards the Skelligan in an assertive manner."Signy, you're a beautiful woman yourself... There is someone out there just waiting to find out exactly who you are...” The traveller placed her free hand under Signy’s chin, turning her head to face her - to look once again into her eyes. “You'll never find that person if you continue to clutch onto this supposed love you feel for Viggo. There's love out there for you. Love that will embrace you back." "Ye really think so?" The sorceress leaned back again, relaxing her hold on Signy, a glow surrounded the Skelligan that added a warmth to her features. "I know so,” she replied with a confident smirk. “Seems to me that this Viggo has been having his cake and eating it too... Stringing you along because he enjoys that you have feelings for him. Sounds like an unhappy glutton… But that's speculation." Once more she drank from the flute. "Ye ever been in love Miss? I mean - not to pry... Ye just seem like ye'd not be hurting for menfolk at yer side..." The sorceress was taken aback by the question. She blinked it off and turned to face the window again, at the shimmering rain upon the glass, and the rhythmic claps of thunder and flashes of lightning, the same ones over and over. While she thought of her answer, her hand reached for the brooch on her capelet. The curled form of a snake in pewter, with a single stunning topaz for an eye. She restrained, and instead wriggled her fingers again, letting out a long sigh that felt like a whisper that couldn’t be heard, only made out on the subtle movements of her lips. Signy’s eyes widened, pupils dilated before she spoke in that same drunken slur again. "Well, so what do I do then?" "I think, Signy, that it's time you closed the bakery… Got out of here." "Well, maybe you’re right... that's certainly one way to put it I s'pose… I have always wanted to leave,” Signy said, a hint of determination lingered in the smoke of her voice, buried under the charming Skelligan lilt. As the blonde warrior gazed out of the window, it felt as though hours skated by her as the realisation fell into her lap. Had she figured it out by herself? Had it really been the words of a kind stranger? Or the push of something else entirely? Her head lolled to the side before she seemed to snap out of it, and immediately she realised that the clouds were breaking outside - that the storm had ceased. Signy turned to inform the stranger - only to find her gaze falling upon an empty chair, only a half-filled glass sat there now, the only evidence of the woman was the stain her lipstick has made against the rim. “But… Miss? Where did yae go...?” [/indent] [indent][hr][/indent] [i]Present Day[/i] [indent] It was a world away from Hindarsfjall, and freedom from the walls of court. Her portal opened out onto a crossroads, and Avery stepped through. She pushed back the hood of her cloak with one hand, the other held the handle of a basket in a tight grip - the scent of cinnamon rose from within, and heat emanated through the wicker. Apple pie. Baked by the staff of her new Lord, of course, as she took her leave from his employment. It had taken some talking, but Queen Meve herself had become involved, due to her friendship with King Foltest of course; [i]“spare your Sorceress,”[/i] was all that needed to have been said. Of course, Avery was grateful for the leave — she hadn’t expected to have been stationed in Lyria for so long. Moved and shifted through several houses of influence. Like a chess piece on a board. Now, she was at a literal crossroads - bringing a gift of sweets for Foltest’s band. But with that was freedom to move in any which direction she liked. She clutched her amulet, taking a steadying breath. Echoes remained here. Was this why she was sent? Soon enough, her usual flashing smirk appeared before she moved off in the direction of the campfire smoke. Shoulders back, head high and confident, the way that sorceresses often walked through the world. Eventually she met the stone that was indeed, exactly like an upside down boot. Already, a worker caught her eye - he stared for a moment at her, suspicious of her eyes, for one was blue and one was green. It was just unusual enough to garner his attention. Avery was not nicknamed ‘Odd-Eye’ for nothing. With a girlish laugh, she winked at him. The mason immediately turned his face in the opposite direction as his cheeks flashed scarlet. She carried on forwards until she made out the recognisable figure of a [i]friend of sorts...[/i] “Ahhh, Balidvar,” she said honey soft and quiet, her eyes flickering with mischief and her lips turned into a smirk, “don’t tell me that I’m the early bird today?” [/indent]