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[color=DCD1FD]ᴛɪᴍᴇ |[/color] Morning
[color=DCD1FD]ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ |[/color] Roshmi City Bakery
[color=DCD1FD]ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ |[/color] Mister Luum [@FunnyGuy], Bardulf [@Lava Alckon], Rue [@Potter], Bowyn [@Helo], Brigitte
[color=DCD1FD]ᴇQᴜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ |[/color] Travel bag with essentials (money, rations, first aid, etc), sapphire pendant, twin daggers.
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As the baker handed Zeva her items, Luum’s sudden voice boomed across the crowd, and the parcel of delicacies fell as the baker let go at the same moment Zeva darted her hands towards her ears. The parchment wrapping of the baked goods crinkled as it hit the cobblestone, but suffered less else than some bruising. Zeva stammered,  [color=DCD1FD]“My e-ears??”[/color]

Luum’s apologetic tone and uncomfortable words of praise did little to lessen how conscious Zeva was of her ears in that moment, something she previously had barely taken attention to, though she tried not to show it. Her hands cupped the back of her ears and pressed them against the side of her head in an attempt to hide them from view. The winter fairy’s comment on the size of her ears only kindled more fire across Zeva’s cheeks, which were surely as red as apples now. Regardless, she tried to seize back control of the conversation with a confident tone, her ears reddening also the longer they were compressed by her cheeks.  [color=DCD1FD]“Yes! That’s right. My ears are pretty great!”[/color] She promptly turned around and picked up the honey toast and bread off the floor.

At the table, there seemed to finally be a feeling of normalcy amongst the group. They seemed like a typical band of adventurers enjoying a morning breakfast together, not the secret operatives tasked with sparking rebellion like they said they were. No words interrupted the momentary peace as everyone quietly enjoyed the simple happiness provided by the sweet, filling toasts. 

Of course, before long, the most rowdy and peculiar figure of the bunch, Mister Luum, took it upon himself to rob the group of that hard-sought peace. It hadn’t bothered Zeva much, but she had noticed a weariness painted on the others’ features that would have benefited with some more rest. Even so, they indulged the light elf as he rambled on with his lengthy self-introduction, littered with commentary that further emphasized his eccentricity. Zeva managed to pay enough attention to grasp that his favorite color was purple.

Bardulf took the initiative to go next. In between bites of honey toast, his mention of hunting caught Zeva’s attention. She felt a small joy finding something to relate to, even if it sounded like they hunted for different reasons.  [color=DCD1FD]“Hunting, huh? Well, if we come across an owlbear again I would be happy to give it another go with you!”[/color] Mentioning the beast that almost killed her not too long ago was perhaps in bad taste, but Zeva found herself hilarious and chuckled.

Bowyn’s introduction left Zeva with more questions than answers. She raised an eyebrow at how the winter fae interacted with one another – did they…[i]like[/i] each other? What was more clear was that he didn’t seem to favor Mister Luum much, or Zeva herself for that matter, with the light jab he made at her for her interaction with his pet earlier. She returned his pointed gaze by sticking her tongue out. In another life, Zeva would’ve loved his stoat friend if he hadn’t targeted her amas.

The winter fairy took on a more serious tone with the remainder of his speech, recounting his fears and goals for the future of Avalia. His words also resonated within Zeva, who had been ingrained with the same sentiments from the elders of her community. But she could not truly know their pain, raised in the relative safety of her parents’ loving arms and the walls of Aegnor Stonel. Still, she wished for change. That would be her greatest debt - to carry out vengeance for the loved ones who raised her.

Bowyn’s new nickname for Zeva caught her completely off guard, causing her to choke on her last bite of honey toast. She hit her fist against her chest a few times to knock the lodged piece of toast down her throat while letting out panicked coughs. Regaining her ability to breathe but not yet her composure, Zeva stumbled through her next words. [color=DCD1FD]“M-m-my, e-ea-, m-, what?!”[/color] A feeling of doom nestled down to her bones at the thought of [i]ears[/i] becoming the moniker these people would label her with. She coughed one last time to reset her speech. 

[color=DCD1FD]“W-well, that was my original plan. My boss at the Oak Tree gave me a week off when I said I wanted to come here to upgrade my daggers. As for the academy… well, what’s a few more absences, right?”[/color] Her lips tugged upward with a glint of arrogance.  [color=DCD1FD]“Anyway, I’ll tell you all a little more about myself! My favorite color is also purple, more like lavender. My second is sapphire blue.”[/color] Her mind wandered to the sapphire pendant that she kept by her side at all times – her mother told her it was the last family heirloom they managed to keep from before the dark elves’ invasion. Zeva used to stare into the pendant often, admiring its shifting deep blues, the way it caught the light and reflected onto different surfaces.  [color=DCD1FD]“As for religion… Hmm, they tell us about Solaris in school. He’s cool, but I don’t really care what the gods are up to. I keep myself busy with training and combat practice! My specialty is dual wield daggers, and while I’d say I’m plenty skilled with them I’m always striving to get stronger. I like weapons in general, I think it would be cool to try more and learn how to use them too. My parents taught me a good deal – daggers, swords, bow and arrow, to name a few...”[/color] Her voice trailed off, a bittersweet warmth spreading within her as Zeva reminisced on the time she spent with her mom and dad during these lessons. Her heart ached thinking of home, of her parents who would be worried sick not knowing where their daughter would be or what she would be up to for the indefinite future.

Zeva’s eyes narrowed as she tried to recall other parts to talk about, trying to avoid certain topics she knew she did [i]not[/i] want to speak about. Her eyes caught the movement of Bowyn’s stoat scurrying around for food. A sheepish grin grew on Zeva’s face,  [color=DCD1FD]“I…like…small animals too…”[/color] Her expression changed to a childish pout,  [color=DCD1FD]“-not ones that steal, though.”[/color]