The Firebrand rolled her eyes, brushing aside the man who had made it his mission to recruit her. She had her back to him, but that didn't stop the obvious gesture of indifference; a shrug. "Look, lee'me alone ya bumblin' plant," she turned, slowly, letting her grip tighten around Alacrity as she presented her visage to the fellow, who she presumed to be a Thief from the Golden Brothers. Her eyes bored into him, though they had to be angled downward to do so. "Ain't interested. Neva will be. Ya Guilds're a joke and so is everything ya stand for." The man seemed taken aback, crossing his arms and taking an arrogant stance that practically begged for her to further explain herself. His face, specifically his eyes, told the story his posture didn't; the Iath woman in front of him was losing her patience...and, if he were to guess, she wouldn't have much of a qualm splaying him out in the street.
Tempa noted that, but thought it would be a good time to give someone a piece of her mind on a matter that had been eating steadily at her good composure since once-again stepping foot into Vaald; a place that had always tried her patience regardless.
"No one relies on personal strength, no more. S'a shame, whoever ya are, that ya got caught up in the big scheme. Guilds ain't nothin' but a way ta ensure ya loyalty ta two things. The Vaunted Council and the discs they keep throwin' out ta ya gutterbrains when they need ya." She ended the statement with a huff, but didn't turn away again; she wanted the lad to remember her face and what she'd said. "Tha whole damn thing's a disgrace to the gods and to the mortals that follow 'em. Now, one more word from ya and ya get the flat'a my spear across ya jaw." The Firebrand narrowed yellow eyes and when the Recruiter realized she was serious, backed away without a word. How it was supposed to be.
The long-roaming nomad continued her winding path through the dwindling crowds around the Enlistment row, spear resting against her shoulder as she watched. The Lunar Festival wasn't too far off, she knew, and until that abhorrent ritual took place she didn't have much else to do. A tour of the city was boring. She knew Vaald. She had practically lived in Vaald for a few years, while the Unsung got their collective shit together and tried to make something out of nothing. Beyond the Enlistment row sat the Serene Pools; a place she found to be a bastion of peace among the Deladish way of bustling. It was there that she had headed.
As with all junctions, specifically the one at the end of Enlistment row, the roads in Vaald were painstakingly arranged to allow access to anywhere from anywhere. So she tread to the east, toward the Palace and toward the Pools. Strangers would give her a sidelong glance, now and again and some would keep their eyes glued to her as she passed. It stroked her ego, but simultaneously forced her to consider, again, the benefits of a hooded cloak. Though she would never be caught dead in something that could be such a liability in battle. Instead, she just held her head high and let the onlookers drink in the visage of a completely-unknown hero.
Where her footfalls echoed through the nigh-claustrophobic streets, she spied the pools ahead; and a huddled over man making his way past her in a hurry. She watched him, carefully, though he didn't seem to be causing anyone trouble. Curiosity got the better of her, though, and she watched the man make his long way down to the Guildhome row. "Always about tha Guilds, innit?" She said to no one in particular, resuming her trek.
Even on her approach, she could hear the water spouting and flowing; she could catch the scent in the air of magically-maintained rampant plant growth. Seeing it, however, once she passed out of the narrow street-alley and into the open plaza, was always impressive. Resplendent pools were arrayed around a golden fountain depicting Belme and Gnara fondly holding hands with their left and reaching skyward with their right. It almost brought a blush to her face, for reasons that very few would ever know. She approached them with as much nonchalance as she could muster, which was a surprising amount and knelt down at the lip of the pool ahead of the sister goddesses.
"I dunno if you two eva listened ta me, but now's the time if'n ya wanna make things right, even if I didn't come all'a this way for ya." she tilted her head up and kept her volume at a conversational standard...as though they would ever dare talk back, "All'a this is yer fault, y'know. At least, I guess parta it is," she took a deep breath and let it out, a huge sigh that she didn't intend to travel so far as it did, "What ya think just because I wasn't 'round don't mean that I don't know?!" Gods, there she was, talking to the inanimate again. "What happened with tha fuckin' mask was inexcusable. I love ya'll, ya know I do. But I neva could understand why you wouldn't just fuckin' talk to us." Redness colored her cheeks, but it wasn't from embarrassment. Tempa could hardly care about how the others, deep in their prayers and meditations...or, perhaps, their lounging, would construe her mounting outburst.
"A'course, that ain't the way it works is it!? You all ain't got that power for that kinda thing, you ain't-!"
She stopped. Tears had formed at the edges of her eyes, and despite her heat they were not so easily dispelled. The Firebrand knew she was being selfish. What had happened to the other Unsung was fate, and she knew that. Despite how she had been raging against them, Tempa had always loved the Deladish gods; far removed though they were from her own. She just wished that they were more fair in what they chose to do. More fair in their schemes. Or, at the least, that they would deign it civil to talk to one of their long standing servants. One of their favored amongst the Moonscratched.
