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[b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b] [color=467426][b]𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛[/b][/color] [b][color=a07e91]:[/color][/b] Greytry - Etrid [b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b] [color=467426][b]𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠[/b][/color] [color=a07e91][b]:[/b][/color] Leofric & Company [b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b] [color=467426][b]𝑝𝑖𝑜𝑡𝑟'𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑑[/b][/color] [b][color=a07e91]:[/color][/b] Still Hungry [b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b][/center]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/IfdJMYh.png[/img][/center]
[indent][indent][indent][indent]Fyg should have expected the lewd joke. She’d phrased the poultice’s properties to humor the darker parts of one’s mind. Still, she found it amusing. The cities in the Great Plains weren’t like Greytry. They were more skeletal, allowing for much space between the bones of buildings. Yet, she imagined there were brothels here like anywhere else across the lands of men. And she wasn’t one to judge. The grass wytch might have considered giving them a bit of attention herself had she the coin or the time. No, she wanted to see this coronation, and she needed the money for that.

Her back stiffened like the mast of a ship when a guard’s voice piqued above the rest. Piotr let out a disturbed coo. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the time to slink off into the shadows. The guard approached them, asking for the removal of their hoods. Her one visible eye went wide. There was little about her visage that would make anyone give more than a glance. She wasn’t pretty in the way that tailored folk like the guards and the men on horses seemed to enjoy. Hewn from the rough living, her attractiveness was tucked away into her aloofness. The only thing about her that might have raised alarm was the slight curvature of her ears. Yet, Fyg didn’t think herself an elf or elf related. A few people had made comments about them out of interest, and she’d only shrugged. Still, that night on the plains, and the inscrutable eyes of the Inquisitors and their ilk made her fearful.

It only took a moment for her to realize that the guards cared little for her, but instead were interested in the men on horseback. Fyg might have huffed and rolled her eye had pride not shushed her and urged her to move on. There were plenty of other marks to be found in Greytry. She didn't need to further bother these men as they’d announced their affairs, and the guard seemed happy with all that. Yet, there was a clandestine way in which the men spoke. It tickled the curious part of Fyg's mind. So, she slunk alongside them into the city proper. They’d asked for a tavern, and she guessed it wouldn’t hurt to locate someplace for gossip and ale if she needed it in the future. Her mission, now, was most pressing. Fyg wanted to see the Grand Inquisitor himself. She wanted to know what the figurehead behind her mother’s disappearance looked like. She wasn’t a cruel woman, but she enjoyed wearing grudges like the latest fashion.

Fyg looped the potion back on her belt and filed in line, palming her staff in one hand and the sprouted seed in the other. She might still have use for it. The consideration fled, however, when the words [b]MAGIC[/b] ignited into the air like a wellspring. Her tanned face went white. She dropped the seed and stomped it, squelching the life within. Quickly, she grabbed her staff with both hands and squeezed. And for the second time that day, she found that she was not the focal point of a guard’s call. Figures breezed past her and she heard calls for people to head to the circus. Her lips twisted. [color=a07e91][i]I'm acting like someone that is begging to be caught... dramatically.[/i][/color]  

Another call of fanfare caught her ears, and she became aware of the coliseum alighting with jubilee. [color=a07e91][i]Dammit, the coronation.[/i][/color] Piotr scrambled, his small claws grabbing onto the hood of her cloak and dragging it down with his weight as he flipped inside. The curve of his form caused the hood to distend awkwardly. Fyg tugged at it until it straightened, but the shoulder of her cloak covered him like a malformed hump. Fine, she’d be [i]that[/i] sort of potion peddler, the type you’d lock see in a bell tower.

[color=a07e91][b]”Fine men,”[/b][/color] she said. [color=a07e91][b]”I won’t keep you, as you seem to have business and some of it [i]might[/i] pressing. [i]In a possible literal sense[/i], but I digress."[/b][/color] She cleared her throat. [color=a07e91][b]"But to answer your question, it’s the sort of elixir that’ll embolden you and invigorate you from your travels. I’m only asking for a small sum, much less than I’d usually charge.”[/b][/color] Piotr let out a muffled coo. Yes, her hump was now talking. [color=a07e91][b]”If you were not aware, the prince’s coronation is today, and I wish to attend. This is less a philanthropic venture of mine and more a trade of services for minor wealth. I’ll even throw in a bit of advice.”[/b][/color] She eyed the toddling urchin that was making its way towards the group, followed by a man of large stature and build. Maybe the child's guard or extortionist of sorts? [color=a07e91][b]“Types like [i]those[/i] will just take your coin by glancing at your handsome faces and assuming you're daft. Use this time to hide your coin purses closer to your chest.”[/b][/color] She smiled, tilting her head up and revealing features—younger than one might expect but older than any fair maiden. [color=a07e91][b]“That alone is worth the paltry entrance fee to an event that one would be foolish to miss.”[/b][/color] [/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

[b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b] [color=467426][b]𝑡𝑎𝑔(𝑠)[/b][/color] [b][color=a07e91]:[/color][/b] [@josephb] [@Jamesyco] [b][color=691f19]|[/color][/b]