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[b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b] [color=467426][b]𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛[/b][/color] [b][color=a07e91]:[/color][/b] North Gate - Greytry - Etrid [b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b] [color=467426][b]𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠[/b][/color] [color=a07e91][b]:[/b][/color] Some Fine Men [b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b] [color=467426][b]𝑝𝑖𝑜𝑡𝑟'𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑑[/b][/color] [b][color=a07e91]:[/color][/b] Hungry [b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/center]
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[indent][indent][indent][indent]A young Fyg held her arm upwards, her palm flat towards the night sky. The stars glittered between her tanned digits, which aligned with the massive stone hands above her. She pressed them shut, effectively blocking out the night, before opening them again. Her mother stirred behind her. Fyg opened her mouth to ask a question as Bautild drew her daughter in close. Her mother kissed her hair a few times before resting her chin on her daughter’s head. [b][color=467426]“Do you know where those stars came from?”[/color][/b]
[b][color=a07e91]“Magic?”[/color][/b] Fyg answered, squirming in her mother’s grasp.
[b][color=467426]“Sure.”[/color][/b] She chuckled.
[b][color=a07e91]“You’re lying.”[/color][/b]
[b][color=467426]“Why assume I knew the answer?”[/color][/b] her mother asked, squeezing Fyg closer. [b][color=467426]“Truth is only spouted by the unimaginative settlers. Lies are for the creative adventurers.”[/color][/b]
Fyg wriggled down, allowing her to look up at her mother. Her amber eyes were met with her mother’s equally golden ones. [b][color=a07e91]“And which one are you, mum?”[/color][/b]
[b][color=467426]“First of all, I’m not your mother…”[/color][/b]
Fyg giggled. [b][color=a07e91]“So, you’re a liar?”[/color][/b]
Bautild grew silent and looked at the stars.
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Greytry was the shining star of Etrid and its illustrious capital. It was where the fair folk of the land had gathered in droves to watch a human man get a shiny token of his power slapped on his head. At least it would remove the Order of the Third Moon from its seat of power. Or at least that’s what Fygawren Aescau had heard, and her ears were quite keen. Still, they would have been keener if everyone outside the North Gate would shut their mouths and let her think. Instead, they jostled her about like she was a sentient sack of potatoes as they trudged forward. It was rude. Fyg inhaled in exasperation. It also smelled horrible outside their fair city. Not that the Great Plains could really speak so highly of their fragrances—horses were aplenty along those flatlands. Still, the odor of so many bodies, pungent from travel, packed together as they squeezed through the front gate was enough for Fyg’s nose to draw upwards on her face. Two senses down, but her eyes still worked. She scanned the crowd as everyone pushed forward. 

Men on horses, men on foot, men sitting in carriages, and exceptionally tall men. There was quite a variety about today. A flutter and a heavy mass landed on her shoulder with a bored [i]flumph.[/i] It was Piotr, Fyg’s companion bird with the physical makeup of an overcooked dumpling. He practically oozed off her shoulder. She only had herself to blame. Fyg was far too sweet on him.

[b][color=a07e91]“So, Piotr, it seems as if we enter the city of Greytry with not a coin on our person,”[/color][/b] Fyg said to the bird that definitely couldn’t understand her. She’d actually do better to talk to a plant. [b][color=a07e91]“Unless…”[/color][/b] she trailed off as she pushed a hand into her coin purse. Unfortunately, all she pulled out was a bit of unmarked currency from the Great Plains, a button, and dried fruit of some kind. She blew the lint off the fruit. Piotr cooed and fluffed on her shoulder. [b][color=a07e91]“This is not for you. Candied fruits make you… well, you know.”[/color][/b] She bit into it. [b][color=a07e91]“You know what I think? I think the number of people help and hinder us today.”[/color][/b] Fyg didn’t finish that sentence but instead let the cogs in her mind crunch through the dangers of that. 

There were enough people to get a bit of coin off of. There were also guards. Then again, there were [i]a lot[/i] of people. Fyg would be taking a chance—a chance in the city where the Order of the Third Moon reigned. She could get away with her dalliances in the Great Plains. Could she here? Fyg sighed. She needed the coin. And better here than inside the gates where there were more walls to get stuck behind. It was then that Fyg spotted her prey. There were three of them atop horses in a sea of people. If she knew anything about giving chase mounted, it was that it only worked on flat and unobscured land.

She moved quickly, knocking at people’s ankles with her staff. More than a few curses were thrown in her direction, but she kept her head down and the scarlet cowl of her cloak pulled close. Yes, looking back, it hadn’t been the best color choice—but it had been her mother’s.

Fyg kept pace with the three men as she hurriedly prepared. She tucked her staff underneath her arm and spat the seed from the fruit into her right hand. Her other hand came to her belt and satchels. There she pulled a couple of potions from their secure latching. The liquid within the bottles, one a bleached green and the other a murky cobalt, viscously ran along the sides as she hoisted them up. She gave the glass a tap with her finger, the ring clinking against it to draw eyes and attention.

[b][color=a07e91]“Fine fellows,”[/color][/b] she said, pulling from her diaphragm. Fyg tilted her head forward, casting a shadow over her face. [b][color=a07e91]“May I offer you some of the most sought after concoctions from the Great Plains. Brewed from the finest ingredients from within the Forests of Paeris and steeped in aged barrels from the oldest ruins in the plains themselves. They cure whatever ails you. Whether it be fatigue from the body or fatigue from the mind. They’re invigorating to the spirit… if you catch my meaning.”[/color][/b] She lifted her head a bit and winked with her one uncovered eye. 

All the while, a few small vines peeled out from the seed within her hand. All she needed to see was where their hands went when considering coin, and she’d move just as quick with the aid of her little saplings. Fyg knew not to make her magic visible. Quick and silent was the game. [/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
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[b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b] [color=467426][b]𝑡𝑎𝑔(𝑠)[/b][/color] [b][color=a07e91]:[/color][/b] [@josephb] [b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b]