She stared into the mirror, shivering as water dripped down her back and chest, bringing with it the white paint that she had soaked her chestnut hair in. Gone the white was, slowly leaving and the dull brown returning. The woman continued to wash her hair, coughing at the scent of the mixture she had prepared to strip the color, it burned as it ran down her cheeks. Quickly fresh water, cold as the night air was poured upon her head, gasping as it soothed but chilled her to the bone. Yanhua wrapped herself within blankets, drying herself as she absent minded stared through the bared window – the sun’s light barely coming over the horizon but the few rays that were alive streamed into her small room. It was nice, really, comfortable and had all that the girl could need, it was somewhat painful to think that for the next few weeks she would be confined to sleeping on the hard ground but perhaps it would not be that bad… still, she had little hope. At least nature and the sun would keep her company; even the moon shining in the tapestry of the night sky would be lovely in the expanse of the woods she’d be hiking through soon. 
She began to dress, slowly, the velvet evergreen dress was pretty enough but it was painful to wear. Her dried, now dull dark brown hair was wrapped into a bun; even her bangs were swept aside with small clips. Standing there, in front of the mirror, Yanhua the sorceress who birthed fire was gone and instead stood the mundane, dull Helga Tristis. She looked like any other woman you passed in any city or town across the continent, the exotic allure of her dress and looks were gone, the power that she held seemed to be dimmed by the confines of her clothing. 
“No”
Her throat was tight, rebelling against the very thought. 

Yanhua packed, a few books and scrolls she had collected as well as “borrowed” from the library were carefully placed within a black bag. A pouch was tied around her waist, its contents she hoped not to use. Her precious beads she poured all she could afford into, sitting within the room atop her bed, the sunlight announcing how little time left she had. Carefully, she placed the beads within an inner pocket of her clothing. 

Entering the courtyard, she watched the scene unfold with the new fellow, unable to hear their exchanged words. The woman steeled herself as she walked, for the journey and her companions’ reactions to her dramatic change of looks. She crossed her arms tight across her chest as she approached, “Good morning” she called her accent seeming to be nearly gone but voice still stood strong, much stronger than it had earlier that morning. She stood beside her horse, throwing her added pack onto it and securing it before she turned to Rayf. “May I ask what that was about?” She whispered, truly curious what had transpired before she had come. Her eyes darted between her mage company and the new fellow, “I thought it was just us…., who he is and why?” She chewed on her lips as she leaned in, a mixture of puzzlement and anger rather evident in her face.