[center][h3][color=seagreen]Artemisia[/color][/h3][/center]

Though maybe mundane for the others, the journey to the woods kept Artemisia's wandering mind occupied. Unlike Alexandria natives or traveled mercenaries, after all, she was seeing this land for the first time. Something as simple as how commonfolk -both in the city and beyond- conducted their lives, or the pastoral scenes of this region's flora, interested her. One footstep at a time, she could fill in bits of the grand map of the world that floated about in her head. If she learned anything during her tour of the Free Cities and Bellas as a whole, it was that reality contained so much more than she could possibly imagine. To truly live, she felt sure, meant to experience that abundance.

So she did not grow distant or bored, but she did grow something else, and it quickly became a problem. About halfway through, her breathing started to get heavier, and by three quarters she started wheezing. By the time the group came to a stop at the border of the uncommonly grim and foreboding forest, Artemisia was wheezing and sweating. [color=seagreen]“Guh!”[/color] she sputtered. [color=seagreen]“You all...certainly keep...a brisk pace.”[/color] Straightening up, she took a few deep breaths. [color=seagreen]“Aah....ahh...ohh. Goodness.”[/color] While pretty defenseless as she tried to recover, she figured one of the fighter-types was looking out for her. Otherwise, what were they good for?

Only after composing herself did the mood of the place really settle in on her. Just peering between those murky trees tickled her fight-or-flight response, telling her survival instincts that perhaps some coins could be better earned elsewhere. She glanced at Balder for reassurance only to find a pall of apprehension floating over the team's veteran hunter like a dark cloud, which helped to tank her confidence. Things were not as they should be. Everyone could tell that, let alone feel it, but it seemed as though they would be advancing anyway. [i]Small wonder about that meager life expectancy.[/i] It would be foolish not to expect a fight. As the others formed up, with the melee fighters constructing a reasonably sturdy front line and Avaddon in particular bullying a tree to show off, Artemisia hurried after them. 

Once close enough for comfort she rummaged around in her supply sack for the fragment of wind aldite, which she weighed in her hand and gave an expert's appraisal. A sigh and a shrug made clear her opinion on its quality, but nevertheless she pulled up her sleeve to pop the relatively worthless decorative quartz out of her bangle so she could insert the aldite instead. [color=seagreen]“Such an unwelcoming gloom typically portends the congregation of fiends,”[/color] she advised. The others no doubt expected an attack to be a possibility, but Artemisia supposed she might as well confirm it just in case. While unhappy that further exertion seemed unavoidable, Artemisia kept a cool head. If forced to fight, her enemies would not find her wanting. The same couldn't be said for Luna, however, who wanted for more than a little calmness right now. Ianthe noticed it too, even going so far as to leave point duty to her fellows and fall back to give the archer some comfort. Artemisia couldn't help but wonder how comforting Luna found Ianthe's compliment, though.

The farther in the group got, the less at ease the black mage became, little by little. [color=seagreen]“Whereee are youuuu....?”[/color] she whispered, scanning between the trees.