Sometimes it was better to just burn the bridge. ID wasn't sure this was one of those times yet, but running into the [i]Queen of Swords[/i] in ShieldTown had definitely spooked her. Locklear was at least reasonable. If the Queen of Swords had recognized her, violence would have been unavoidable. Her errand to The Graves was looking more and more favorable in comparison. Pacts not withstanding, if the Queen of Swords intended to stay in ShieldTown for any length of time it might be better to break her promise to return to Dean in the evening... assuming her pact would even allow it.

She guessed it would depend on the Pact's interpretation of "[i]Acting in the Best Interest of the Agreement[/i]" when it concerned the zealous Templar. Pact magic was so finicky.

ID's footfalls thumped heavily against the landscape, throwing up periodic plumes of dust. She wasn't moving at her top speed, but the Earth still flew beneath her in a blur. Occasionally a burst of vapor from her mask ignited in a flash of fire and black smoke as it passed through the heat-wake she left behind her. It wasn't subtle, but since ShieldTown and The Den were out of sight, she wasn't worried about being spotted, except maybe by Zolya's corvids.

They weren't supposed to intentionally follow her, and as long as she didn't draw too much open attention to herself news of her deeds shouldn't reach Zolya's ears. ID still detoured wide around them, even though it increased her travel time. By the time she hit the border of The Forges their presence had thinned out considerably, and the region's heat plume did a lot to hide her signature.

ID cut through the Graves region of the sector, keeping the terrain between her and the Black Castle as much as possible and pouring on the speed. Even if she attracted the attention of the resident Tinker and his crew, it was highly unlikely that they'd brave The Graves to give chase.  She skipped over the surface of the rivers of molten rock and metal without care like a stone across water. If they did happen to look her way, it was more likely they'd mistake her for one of the Firetail Wyrms that lived in the region than identify her.

A [Dragonscale] Fortification protected her eyes and face from the heat and soot, and the ridges of her crimson scales glowed a dull orange as she crossed the border into the lush Temperate Zone. She dragged a plume of soot and smoke trailing from the cinders clinging to the melted hems of her cloak a half-mile beyond The Forges. Sector six was tranquil, as always, though ID still took care not to spread any unintentional fires.

There wasn't a lot of activity in the Temperate Zone. You either had to brave the smothering heat and toxic fumes of The Forges, or the unforgiving arctic conditions in the Frigid Wastes to get there. Inconvenient... or... convenient, depending on your perspective.

ID had to slow down and take a moment to smother her heat plume as she approached the rapidly cooling border of the Frigid Waste. If she wasn't careful she'd thermal shock a storm into existence, or have her position given away by a massive geyser of steam. The air condensed into voluminous clouds as it struck her hot skin regardless of her efforts, though the shrill wind made sure they were disbursed swiftly.

Rendezvous Delta.  An outcropping of rock sheltering the entrance to a shallow ice cave twenty or so miles from the Abyss wall.  ID was supposed to meet MG outside of ShieldTown, but she'd flagged the other agent off after running into the Queen of Blades and had them make their own way to the sector.  It would have been nice to have a ride, but it wasn't worth the risk with the Templar around.  Regardless, her detours had made her uncharacteristically late, and she was like to receive an earful from the merc.

[b][color=#db60b0]"Surtr,"[/color][/b] she announced through her mask's vox-changer as she approached.