[centre][h1][color=368BC1][u]Arbora Silasdottir[/u][/color][/h1][/centre]
[centre][h3][color=368BC1]Location: Balmung Castle  |  Bailey  |  Mentions: N/A[/color][/h3][/centre][hr]
	[b]Tick tick tack tick tap![/b]
	[color=gray][i]A young Viera strolls through the quiet courtyard, stragglers and other late arrivals preferring their haste to warmth over such leisurely walking. Arbora's attention is rapt within her device, simultaneously recording and ignoring the world going on around her. Dozens of people, from all walks of life, passed her in the last half hour as she slowed to a halt several times. Most were courteous and gave her a wide berth, while others threatened to shoulder check her; however they made their way, it was of no consequence to her. People do as they see fit as aligns with their customs.[/i][/color]
	[b]Tap tap tap. . . tip![/b]
	[color=gray][i]The cold is of no matter to her, even if she didn't wear her heavy coat. The Snowshoe tribe are nomadic, sure, but they spend the cold seasons closer to Midgar, careful to take advantage of the hibernating predators' absence. Dragons have their patterns and hunting territory, which can be rather expansive, leaving the tribe with plenty of breathing space as they moved about and made their temporary homes. Dragon sightings have occurred, however rare, though their attention to Viera was virtually nil, likely prioritizing the mines and surrounding towns to terrorize instead. Greater reward and all that.[/i][/color]
	[b]Swipe tap![/b]
	[color=gray][i]Arbora's eyes finally scroll offscreen, her feet taking her to the first step of the large structure. However well-traveled she may be, in a sense, she is still not accustomed to the greater structures of civilization. She recognizes architectural strong points that largely serve some function in its defense, but the intricate carvings tell of some afforded opulence and grandstanding. She takes a moment to absorb the imagery, a presentation to the masses that the royalty are of every importance to their needs and wants. There's some truth to that, she considers, though it may be best shown through tangible contributions as relief to their chronic plight rather than symbolism; but what would a nomad such as herself know, who doesn't have to care for thousands, nay, tens or even hundreds of thousands?[/i][/color]
	[color=gray][i]Taking in a deep, quiet breath, she ascends the steps. Some amount of dirt from others left behind crunch between her boots and the sturdy cut stone. The din of performances, jovial conversations, and the occasional shouting meets her halfway up the stiga, accompanied shortly after by subtle scents of roasted meats until she makes it to the massive entrance. Guards await her, like they have with all the others, and request of her weapons. With a polite smile, she unshoulders her satchel and offers it to them.[/i][/color]
	[color=368BC1]"I can keep this, right? I would like to record this whole affair for posterity."[/color] [color=gray][i]Gesturing with her tablet in hand, she watches as the guard bearing a rifle looks to their partner and, with a few words and acceptable expressions, give her permission to hold onto the device. They warn her of not wielding it with any hostile intent, to which she gives a long-winded response of its multi-functionality and technical properties.[/i][/color]
[hr][centre][h3][color=368BC1]Location: Balmung Castle  |  Banquet Hall  |  Mentions: N/A[/color][/h3][/centre][hr]
	[color=gray][i]Inside the castle was even more wealth than she had imagined: high ceilings with precious metals and stones making up their massive light fixtures; emerald walls that convey natural soothing as well as its nation's symbolic colors; painted portraits and landscapes filling the walls that speak of importance and beauty; and what may be most impressive to Arbora is the sheer amount of food and drink, veiling almost every visible table top as crowds eat their fill.[/i][/color]
	[color=gray][i]A tap on her right shoulder mildly spooks her, but seeing it's another guard directing her to a table, she nods curtly and makes her way to the rumpus. Arbora hasn't had the chance to sit down before men in formal attire at the very table she's attending have taken opportunities to make some kind of announcement-- or is that what constitutes as a toast? Setting down the tablet beside the fine empty plate and cutlery, she takes a moment to observe the other individuals; a perfect time to do so as a loud and particularly aggressive Mystrel grabs the attention of most.[/i][/color]
	[color=gray][i]The most obvious one to start with being the rambunctious one currently challenging their host. Whatever their background, they clearly have an ego to take on the gods. She didn't even introduce herself to the room, as though everyone should recognize the warrior. Her physique [b]is[/b] impressive, along with some of the other more martially-adept folks at the table, but it's the attitude of a challenger that appeals to Arbora most. Surely this one will serve as a study subject more than a collaborator, but sometimes looks can be deceiving.[/i][/color]
	[color=gray][i]The two that spoke before her, however, carry themselves like the few nobles Arbora has met before. While she knows that such words spoken should not always be taken at face value, there are still notes of truth of what is said even if she doesn't know the hidden intents (if there are any). Decorum, social aspects in court, and relationships definitely hold value even in her book.[/i][/color]
	[color=gray][i]A younger Sollan girl sits across from her, keeping to herself, giving almost no information away besides their ability to remain tactful. Smart, whether intentional or otherwise, and could be calm due to either experience or ignorance. Admirable trait, either way. A Sollan man closer to Arbora's age seems to be getting along with those around him, a familiar communal demeanor. First impression on him, however, is fairly lacking. Almost everyone else at the table is impressive in their own right, though the way her carries himself seems basic; a good thing, in most circumstances. Maybe not in a space with so many standouts vying for attention and assignment. Chirping Chocobo gets the greens, as the saying goes.[/i][/color]
	[color=gray][i]Arbora almost missed the Sollan girl at the other end and side of the table. Keeping to herself, reserved. If anyone stands out, it's her at this point. Almost nobody else is as quiet as she. Definitely an interesting cast of adventurers, and when considering the number of attendees, likely to be divvied up into troops of some kind, especially that she was directed to this table instead of choosing her own space. She observes the other tables briefly, a whole range of races and backgrounds. Some make her think she would have gotten along with them, using tech and magic as she does.[/i][/color]
	[color=gray][i]For now, she settles into her seat and reaches over to one of the abundant bowls of fruit, taking even portions of those, vegetables, and a few slivers of boar. Then a cup of wine. Without a word, she offers a small smile to the girl across from her before digging in, careful to not let the Mystrel bump into her.[/i][/color]