[center][h1][color=368BC1][u]Arbora Silasdottir[/u][/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h3][color=368BC1]Location: Balmung Castle  |  Banquet Hall [/color][/h3][/center][hr]
Processing the words spoken around Arbora aren't a big ask, but with so many people talking and a feast much more grand than she's ever seen, almost everything is going over her head unless her attention is brought to something specifically. Even the new arrival at the end of the table had little influence over her at first, her being so absorbed within the aromatic meal and flickering tablet.

[color=f7976a][b][i]"Red suits your cheeks well, pretty missy."[/i][/b][/color] That phrase didn't register to Arbora until after the woman across from her repeated the last few words in silence and disbelief. Mid-chew with a healthy serving of meat, she stops to glance down the table. Other sorts of adventurers and veterans are introducing themselves to the table, a proclamation of the [i]ten million gil[/i] reward, even the first and next steps what they should all do together as a team.

Her eyes dart between everyone as they speak now, resuming her mouthful consumption to completion. Clearing her throat with another swig of mead, she returns her gaze to the one across from her and the man beside. Taking a moment as if to collect her bearings, Arbora finally speaks aloud, first at the sollan girl (and to whoever will listen).

[color=368BC1]"Well, the girl in question is pretty, but I take it that [i]missy[/i] is an unacceptable turn of phrase in this environ? If so, the gentleman should acknowledge the misgiving and apologize at once, in order to rebuild the perceived loss of respect, especially if we are to team up together. A foundation of trust will go a long way in keeping everyone together, which in turn will provide us with ends that we, as individuals, would not be able to meet otherwise."[/color] the young viera speaks matter-of-factly, as if the red-haired woman requested a whole report. For the first moment since she sat down, the tablet is dark and quiet.

She continues, this time eyeing Ibrahim yet speaking loud enough for all to hear, [color=368BC1]"My name is Arbora Silasdottir. I come from Clan Snowshoe, a nomadic tribe of Edren who, like many, have experienced hardships thanks to the Blight and concerns over the coming oppression of Valheim. My role in this company, should you all accept me, is to serve as your summoner, engineer, and field researcher. I am not physically able like many of you seem to be, so I entrust the labor to you all while I promise informed decision-making, logistically speaking."[/color]

Shifting in her seat, Arbora turns all the way around and looks at Galahad and Izayoi with nary a suspicion or fear, or reverence. [color=368BC1]"I would not have recognized you without your introductions, although I know your names by records and tales. I'm not intimately familiar with your exploits, though your reputations are more robust than most. I suspect your histories alone will open and close doors for us as a collective, and it's best to accept that now."[/color] She sniffs, bringing up a gloved hand to rub her nose before removing the glove.

[color=368BC1]"While Galahad makes an excellent point, I will retain that, until otherwise proven, the circumstances of invasion and the appearance of the Blight are separate matters entirely. A woman who is stabbed the same day she shows symptoms of a cold is not indicative of the same source, but rather an underlying issue that occurred at the same time as another isolated event. I am open to pursuing clues, wherever they may take me, but this could be a dangerous assumption to begin with. All that being said,"[/color] she gives a gentle shrug as she looks at Izayoi directly. [color=368BC1]"Heading North is as good of a plan as any unless presented otherwise."[/color]

Seemingly content with her side of discussion, she picks up her tablet and sinks into her chair more comfortably, tapping away.