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So, how is everyone? What's everyone been up to?


Just left a job, and transitioned into a new one, one where I can work when I want (: also have been taking care of my garden, the first I've done, and the first harvest has yielded a lot of veggies! And finally, been working on a cosplay costume!

Sounds like a good idea!
Any update on the collabs left?
Collab posted and finished!
Artemisia's boots padded softly up the hewn wooden stairs to the upper deck where she emerged from the dimly lit underdeck into the brilliant afternoon sunlight. With the sun shining, she couldn't help but feel dread as the thoughts of the band of brigands that swam thru her head. She spotted Omero near the railing still and approached him with his bread roll that she had gone to the galley for. The wind whipped her black tresses about her head as she strode over to him, as she did so, Artemisia took note of the captain and the native man on the main deck. Artemisia offered out the bread roll to him with a complacement smile, "Here, you are. I ran into a funny man downstairs in the galley there. I'll tell you later about it as I noticed that the captain is on deck and I want to go speak with him while I have the chance." With that, she promptly departed and made her way over to the captain.

As she approached, Artemisia sized up the captain and once again couldn't but help to admire his lean body, tanned skin and shiny black hair. The native man, even with his hooked nose like a hawk was still attractive to her, especially in the exotic taste. The captain was alone asides from the native, making it easier for her to approach him.

Clearing her throat, Artemisia began with a calm, inquistive statement, "Captain, if you don't mind, I would like a word with you in regards for tonight." She glanced at the even darker skinned man and nodded politely at him. "I don't believe we've really met, but I am Artemisia. I was the one in the crow's nest last night chucking pebbles at that...thing last night; I believe you called it a harbinger this morning if I'm not mistaken." Artemisia extended her hand for the captain to shake, in turn, she would also introduce herself to the native man so that she could both learn their names.

"...That was precisely my thinking, Yanci." Emilio began with a low hum. He stroked his faint beard and glared toward the southern horizon. Peaks and valleys appeared just over the rim surrounded by clouds and mist. "If we could bypass them entirely, that would serve our purposes much easier," he continued, "but the waters would be even more dangerous on the journey back."

"And that's why I suggested that we need to take them out tonight." Epunamun chimed in. "Otherwise we run the risk of having our plans revealed by someone in Essaouira, and we'd be little more than bloated, floating ducks at that point."

"The only option in that case is to meet them with our port bow, captain." The Navigator, Yanci, finally said.

"Yes." Emilio responded, distracted by the flurry of ideas running through his head. "We'll need a boarding party, we'll let the boat down on the starboard side of the ship, row in under the stars. Find some men, Epu; strong, and smart men."

A curt, attention-seeking noise came from somewhere behind. Emilio twirled around to find a familiar face. It was the girl who'd started the jovial atmosphere of the first night. She was familiar, yet unfamiliar all the same. He couldn't place a name to her face. She introduced herself. Armetisia. The name came through like a wave. It washed reality from his vision and conjured memories of the room where he took his studies. It smelled of lilac from the garden below, and whiskey from his father's bar. He remembered the Greek and Persian Histories he learned, he remembered imagining he was on one of the Halicarnassus wing vessels; riding the Mediterranean waves behind the white clothed Artemisia I of Caria. He could practically smell the bronze in the air, even now. It brought a smile to his face.

He took the hand offered, peered into the crystalline eyes which caught and mingled with the sunlight, and bowed to kiss where the fingers met the hand. "Your namesake moves me." he said honestly as he rose again. There was a certain rush which came with this new brand of honesty, it was exhilarating and embarrassing all at the same time; and for that it was almost passionately intimate. Catching up with the rest of the dialogue he stepped aside and glanced over at Epu, who had his arms crossed, still watching the map. He gave the girl a halfhearted acknowledging smirk along with a nod, and continued with the map.

"...Yes," Emilio covered the silence, "A Harbinger. I don't know much other than it was probably summoned here through magical means, and possibly on behalf of someone else. I'm afraid I can't really answer any questions about that though, I know as much as you do about how all this magic is supposed to work." Emilio glanced over to Epu, remembering the mission, who in turn glanced over at him. "Artemisia," Emilio said with a smile, still looking at Epu. The native man looked at his Captain and the girl intermittently. Emilio turned his attention back on who he was addressing, "if you aren't busy, perhaps you'd like to hear about our plan to deal with these pirates. You say that you were helping fight the Harbinger last nighy? Well, maybe you could even help us then, how would you like that?"

Epunamun chimed in there, "Captain, maybe you're getting ahead of yourself."

"I don't think so, Epu." Emilio chided childishly. "Anyone with the name of one of the commanders at the Battle of Salamis ought to be considered for a navel mission, out of respect for the ancients."

"If that were true you'd have to accept a jaguar as your yoeman if I recommended one." Epu responded coldly.

"And I would too, if you ever did. That would have to be one hell of a jaguar. But until then, we've got our own lioness right here." With a slap on the shoulder Emilio shook Armetisia, "isn't that right?!"

The captain spun about, startling her. Instead of shaking her hand like she had imagine he would do, he chose to kiss her hand. Electricity shot up from the very tips of her fingers all the way to her neck, leaving goosebumps like a trail. She gently withdrew her hand from his, her face flushed red with surprise and a bit of shyness. Artemisia fumbled for the next words but found herself stuttering.

"Well...ah...I..." Your namesake moves me... His words echoed in her mind like a faint bell tolling on a misty morning back in Florentia. Personally, Artemisia never bothered to pursue romantic adventures of any kind with anyone. She didn't have time for love, as life was too fleeting to be concerned with the feelings of another; or at least so she believed. Mentally, Artemisia dismissed what just happened, and convinced herself that Emilio was just an eccentric fellow, much like Stefano.

She closed her mouth and let Emilio finish speaking. The native man looked at her with but a smirk and a nod, making her wonder what he was possibly thinking. Did he think that she was inferior to him? Her eyes narrowed as she studied him closely for a moment or two before returning her gaze back to the captain. As he spoke of the harbinger, Artemisia believed it to be true, that whatever it was, was indeed a magickal entity. She simply nodded along as he spoke, and then he said her name again. She brought her silvery grey eyes to meet his, the way he uttered her name made her feel weak in the knees; for the reason why, she could not say. He offered to have her listen to their plans on what to do about the looming pirate attack, though his companion seemed less enthusiastic about receiving her help. A devious gleam appeared in her eyes as the desire to prove him wrong rose up in her chest like a burning candle flame.
Suddenly, he slapped her on the back, claiming that they had their own lioness on deck. Here Artemisia smiled widely, "Aye! I wouldn't mind taking a gander at what you have planned, I'm no military strategist, but I certainly have an open mind; and a fresh eye wouldn't hurt at all. What do you have planned so far, Captain?"

Emilio grinned.

"We plan to slow our approach, and come in the night, perhaps drawing them toward us. We'll turn off our torches, lower our sails, and blend in with the sky and sea. We'll drop a boarding party into a dingy, and they'll make their way around the opposing ship as we make our approach, quite loudly I might add. Hopefully, with a little timing, and admittedly near-perfect maneuvers, we could synchronize our attacks to overwhelm them, boarding them before they have the chance to get their boots on. We have plenty of guns aboard, and we should be able to take them at close range. There's more to the story, of course, but that's more than you would need to know."

Emilio let the information sink in. He needed to let it do the same for him. For some reason, and there was no word he could recall to properly describe what he felt, there was a burning impulse within Emilio to ask this girl to risk her life. It wasn't out of malice, though one could never truly discount that, but it wasn't out of pure necessity either. It was a kind of curious spirit in him, one which --as far as he could remember-- was always there. Part of it, Emilio rationalized, was how enthused she seemed about the whole situation. How would someone like this fair in an environment such as that?

"Could you envision yourself on such a mission?" Emilio asked.

Artemisia listened intently to the captain’s words as he spoke, describing the details of the plan to her. He told her of how he planned to extinguish all the lights aboard The Burned Bitch, and wait for the cover of nightfall to board the other ship and commandeer it, she wondered if he intended to kill the other people above the ship, since he mentioned that they had plenty of guns. She stared at the toes of her boots as his last question hung on her conscience. ’Could you envision yourself on such a mission?’
Seven years ago, when Artemisia first met Lorenzo de Las Manos, she had learned how to listen for the jingle of coins in a person’s footfall. The louder the noise, the more coin they carried. She could never forget the lesson Lorenzo bestowed on her one night in the dark alley ways of Sintra. The two of them, dressed in black to blend in with the shadows, lurked silently in the darkness off a main road. Lorenzo spotted a young farm girl walking alone towards the city gate and prodded Artemisia sharply in the side.

“That’s your mark. See how she has her coin purse on her hip? You can either rob her upfront, or you can cut the purse without her knowing.” Lorenzo was blind in one eye, and it had turned to a milky white colour, his face leered out at her even in the cover of the shadows. His breath rank of mead, garlic and cheese. Artemisia looked hesitantly at the girl as she passed by their alley way, and darted after her. One would not recognize Artemisia in her guise, as she had wiped ash through her hair to grey it; a false nose tip, and some cleverly applied mud made for a mole. To others, Artemisia appeared to be a hobbled old beggar woman.

“Dearie! My precious girl, I think you dropped this.” Artemisia called after the girl, who only looked to be in her early teenage years. Extending her hand out to the girl, she displayed a simple golden locket in the palm of her hand. The girl halted and whirled about, looking at the old woman curiously as her hand went to her throat.

“I must have forgotten that I was wearing it! Thank you oh so much!” The young girl plucked the locket out of the palm of Artemisia’s hand and eyed it closely before slipping it inside an inner pocket.

“Oh you’re very welcome, may God bless your soul precious child.” And with that, Artemisia hobbled away again into the darkness.
Once she had returned to the cover of night, Lorenzo snatched Artemisia by the arm, hissing with menace, “How dare you not do as I say! You simply gave her the locket! You fool!” He raised his arm to strike her when she pulled away from his iron-like grip.

“Don’t always assume Lorenzo!” Artemisia threw the coin purse down at his feet with a haughty look in her silvery eyes. The older man gasped with surprise because he had not witnessed her taking the coin purse. Lorenzo began to chuckle as he opened the purse up and started to count the coins inside.

“You my girl are very clever, more than I thought you to be.”


Artemisia looked at Emilio, the same glimmer in her silver eyes had returned, not to rob, but at the chance to learn a new lesson. She smiled brightly at the captain and exclaimed, “I know I can, the only thing that would be a problem are my clothes. I would be easily spotted in firelight wearing this. If I can find some black garments, perhaps even a cloak with a hood would suffice, I believe that I could succeed in the task. May the Goddess stop me if she desires.” Artemisia looked quickly to the sky and pressed a fist to her lips before looking back to Emilio. “Will you stay aboard here or will you lead the party personally?”

Emilio smirked as he glanced at Epu, who'd been watching the exchange intently. The American's chissled fingers clasped at his freshly shaved jawline with anxiety, and exasperation: he appeared as a man at the end of his rope. But with Artemesia's answer Epu seemed to find some solace. He let out an inaudible chuckle when Emilio looked toward him. The looks they exchanged toward one another was one of assurance, it was one of success; they'd shared it many times before.

"I couldn't leave the Bitch at such a dire time, I need to lead her into battle. This, however, is Epunamun's speciality. He'll lead the aweigh team as my first officer, and hopefully find some success." With that Emilio directed Artemisia's full attention toward Native man behind her. He was a man stuck between worlds, with the beads in his hair, and knots in his hands. The collar of his overcoat brushed ever slightly with his chin and the bone necklace tied around his neck. He smiled as if it was the first ever moment of relief he'd had on the journey, as it likely it was.

"I'll take care of your needed attire, milady. Meet me in the gun room after supper and I'll see to your basic arms training, as well." Epu said in a clear Spanish, the next best language he knew next to his mother tongue; he only hoped she understood. "For now, you should help your friend feel better. If he's in fighting form by tonight, we'll be taking him too."

A moment of silence passed and so Emilio spoke up, "That is all. Go prepare now, girl." It was a curt, dismissive order, and may have even come off as abrasive. As Artemisia stepped away the two friends smiled at each other. Emilio gave a wink before meeting Epu in a handshake.

"Well caught, Captain." Epu said in English.

"Ah, you've always been an excellent lineman, Epu." Emilio responded as he watched Artemisia walk away. A glinting from somewhere in the corner of his vision beckoned him, and he realized it was Allana's eyes glistening in the sunlight. "Excuse me for just a moment," Emilio said to the navigator in the defaulted Portuguese as he crossed the deck to meet with his mystic ally.

Unfortunately, though for the better, Emilio informed Artemisia that he would have to stay aboard the ship, yet his companion would be leading the boarding party. The native man, whose name was Epunamun, spoke to her in perfect Spanish, causing her to furrow her brows; making her listen to every word. At the end, she raised her brows in ease and smiled at him,
”Muchas gracias Epunamun, te veo anoche.” Thank you very much Epunamun, I’ll see you tonight.
With that, Artemisia turned on the heel of her foot after Emilio dismissed her and headed back to the railing where she had last saw Omero. Yet when she reached the railing, she found him to be nowhere in sight. She assumed he had headed below deck, maybe to retrieve his clothing at least. If that was the case, Artemisia could fix his robe for him like she had promised.
Telling time was never easy for her, to her, it still seemed to be midday, just past noon perhaps. Then again she never bothered with time, except for when the sun set or when the sun rose.

{Credits @MacabreFox @The New Yorker }
Oh not at all (: thank you for the updates. If anything I'll have more time on my hands than I do now starting in September.
I know he was on a day ago from the other rp I'm in with him.
Posted our collab!
The Consano had been on the move for three days. While several of the company had horses available, this was not the case for all. Their progress had suffered as a result. Sarah had scarcely spoken a word to any of her companions. Those whom she had not met that day at the Kevil’s Arms remained strangers to be observed from a distance.

There was the light haired man who stood a bit shorter than the rest of the men. What he lacked in height he made up for in noise. Whether he was singing, laughing at his own jokes, or attempting to impress another member of the Consano, the rogue never shut-up. One or two of the soldiers had attempted to assist him, but the young man never seemed to appreciate that he may be in any actual danger. Sarah wondered if he would continue to smile when their comrades began to die off.

The hooded man that had given Sarah a curious chill the day he arrived turned out to be a mage. Or at least, that’s what some of the soldiers had whispered amongst each other when camp was made. The young healer regarded him with a suspicious eye whenever he rode in front of her. Though the man was not especially imposing at first glance, there was an air about him that made Sarah uneasy, and his contentment to rarely speak only intensified this feeling. She wondered what this mage was capable of, and whether he would use his abilities nobly when the time came. Since they had been paired in the same squad, she assumed the answer would come sooner rather than later.

While the mage was somewhat eerie, the commissioner of the Consano was downright offensive. Sarah knew him as Orwen, and everything from his gaudy clothes to his demanding tone irritated Sarah. These things would not have phased her had it not been for the stories he told, no, bragged about, involving what seemed like countless innocent slaves. And always, there was a shadow of a smile when he spoke, as though contemplating his own cruelty brought him some deep inner peace.

How Sir Chester could freely accept that vile trader and yet hold her in suspicion was beyond Sarah’s understanding. The young healer thought back to the night when she had arrived at The Kevil’s Arms. The knight, who had seemed cordial enough at first, ultimately left Sarah feeling as though she had been interrogated rather than interviewed. It was the revelation of her Dawnish origin that had seemed to plant doubt in his mind. Sarah was proud of her heritage and in many ways felt that the Kingdom of Dawn was superior to it’s northern neighbor. At the very least, her people had not propagated a bloody war for the sake of a king’s vanity. If anyone should be put on trial for their citizenship, Sarah was certain it was not her.

The morning of their departure had brought sudden calls to attention which had struck Sarah as a bit awkward. No doubt, when they had left The Kevil’s Arms, Sarah had felt a bit like a child playing “soldier” as they filed out of the city. At this point however, the marching had lost all manner of novelty and now the young healer felt much like a head of cattle, lumbering along in the herd. She imagined that she also smelled much like a cow, as there had been little opportunity for washing in the past three days. It was for this reason that when the Consano finally halted it’s march along the muddy road on the third evening, that Sarah resolved to ensure a dip in the nearby river. It would be freezing, but no chill could be worse than sleeping another night covered in grime.

It amazed Sarah how quickly the Consano could collectively set-up and break camp every day. In less than an hour the tents were pitched, horses were grazed, and fires were burning. If there were to be any amusement before dark, it must come in the short bouts between eating and sleeping. After Sarah raised her tent, she stuffed inside her bedroll all the personal letters which she had received from her Cavil’s father. Then she heaved her heavy pack over one shoulder and sought out Sir Chester. Though he did not trust her, the healer considered him among the least likely to rummage through her supplies and take something for himself.

Afterward, Sarah spotted the exotic assassin and also the female mercenary near a fire. The dark-skinned woman was examining a knife under the last bit of daylight that was quickly slipping away. Over the past few days the healer had observed the assassin pulling knives from what seemed like thin air, much like a magician who pulled coins from his sleeves to amuse children. Always she did so as though she were unaware of what her fingers were doing, and before Sarah could make out any details of the blade, it would disappear back into the killer’s robes. It appeared to be a mindless habit, and the ease at which the foreign woman performed it made Sarah wonder at what other abilities she possessed with such blades.

Sarah had not yet met the mercenary, who was now squatted down to the ground and rummaging through a pack. Unlike many of the others who traveled in their company, she had heard no rumors about this traveler, unless of course you counted the perverted remarks some men made to one another whenever she rode in front of them. Sarah studied her agreeable manner and decided to make the first move.

We have not met,” She began in a soft tone, stopping in front of the pack that the sell sword was searching “As two of the few ladies in this company, I believe we should remedy this.

Sarah’s words were friendlier than she felt. Had she not deemed it necessary to avoid bathing alone, she likely would have made no move to introduce herself. She was tired, and betraying sleep for the monotony of small talk felt wrong.

The past few nights had been rather energetic on Gwenyfar`s end, everyone was split up into different squads, but by the end of the first night marching east to Minorhold, most everyone fell into a slipshod order. She wasn`t used to the military life,but it did seem oddly familiar, and at times rather cozy for the close comfort of the security provided. Alas, she did not let her senses lure her into any false notions as she much as she would have liked to. The past three days alone had been rather hectic for some new recruits and had begun to create a sense of unease in her mind at least, it bothered her not, but only to the point to wonder how reckless this mission would come to be, or even dangerous. Gweynfar had surveilled the group since they left, and noted several people of key interest.

She took a particular note of the dark skinned woman, who seemed of an exotic origin she could not place; also of several men. Sir Chester seemed to be an alright fellow, but there were two other she had not met, one of them was a hooded man, one that every time she looked in his direction, gave her chills, like that of an entity touching her very soul, one that filled her with restlessness and anxiety. The other was a bastard of a man, for she had heard his name before on her travels, Orwen. And he, was certainly a bothersome fellow. She knew him to be one of the richest slavers, and one to be feared for his ruthless attitude. It became obvious to her the disturbed mind he held after the few remarks he had made about his few prized women slaves.

On the third night, after a hard days ride, the group again made for camp, and this time not so far from a river, just a mile or so up the road. It had rained earlier in the day and now that dusk had settled, the clouds seemed more ominous than when the group had departed earlier. She had her mind on other things as she rummaged through her buckled knapsack, looking for a whetstone to give her blade a good rub, when a young blonde woman approached her. Her words startled Gwenyfar, causing her to jolt. She looked up at the woman and listened to her as she spoke, all the while studying her face. She had strong features, one that reminded her of statued woman. The thing that drew her attention the most to this woman was the colour of her eyes, the colour of amber stone, like a low smouldering flame.

Finally she let a smile grace her captivated face,rising upto her feet and extending her hand, she replied in a polite manner, "Hello, no I don`t think we have. I`m Gwenyfar if you haven`t heard already. I would have introduced myself earlier, yet time did not allow me to. What is your name?"

Sarah was surprised at Gwenyfar’s pleasant manners. When she shook the mercenary’s hands, she wondered if all killers had such calloused skin. Though she was not delicate, Gwen had a lovely face and toned figure. Sarah imagined that her martial skills were at least occasionally used in self-defense when she received unwanted attention.

My name is Sarah,” She began while looking Gwen in the eye, “I am our company’s healer. The only one I’m afraid.

Gwen took the woman`s hand into her own as she grasped it firmly, and noted the lightness of her hands, meaning they were delicate and small, "Sarah, it is my pleasure. I`m glad then that you have joined our company, if any of us were to fall, at least we would have you. Tell me then, would you care to join me if we took a gander down to the river to wash up? I suppose we could invite the other lady as well, though I do believe I haven`t caught her name..."

Here Gwen looked about the encampment looking for the olive-skinned woman, "I know a good wash would make me sleep better tonight too." She finally spotted her, mindlessly flicking a knife in and out of her hand, disappearing into her sleeve only to bring it out again. In hopes of gaining her attention, Gwenyfar looked right at her, and waved her hand, in an attempt to draw her over to them.

Quietly she added, "I`m certain I smell like my horses ass, as much as I love him, I particularly don`t favour the smell." With that, she allowed herself a grin that disappeared within moments.

Sarah chuckled courteously at the other woman’s joke, “Unfortunately, I can say no better of myself. A bath would suit me well if we can manage to return before the sun leaves us.” The young healer glanced toward the sky and imagined they had just over an hour left of shine. Daylight was a precious commodity anywhere, but here in the North, it was in constant short supply. She was releived that others seemed just as eager take a bit of risk in exchange for the sanity that clean skin brought.

Nearby, Sarah also sought to gain the assassin's attention,“Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting her on recruitment day.” Sarah was silent a moment as she remembered the dark woman’s flirtatious manner with the nervous young priest. She also remembered how she had brushed off the woman's attempt at buying her dinner. Had she not been so exhautsed at the time, Sarah might have felt embarrassed at her own obvious behavior. “I daresay, she is rather exotic isn’t she?” Sarah quietly asked Gwen, attempting to gather someone else’s impression.

"I`ve yet to speak with her more, but yes... she is rather exotic. Did you happen to catch where she comes from?" The oppurtunity was lost as the foreign woman looked up and headed over.

Karen was bored... For a while now actually. Those long continues days of nothing but traveling were getting to her. Normally she was fine with such monotonous passing of the days, but considering she didn't even have much chance to chat with people since they departed was too much. From boredom, she began pulling in and out her knives from their hiding places. For a while she didn't even realize that she was doing it. Once she realized it though, she began doing it for fun and practice.

Now she was just checking out her knives before the sun vanished over the horizon. She needed to make sure the blades were in perfect condition otherwise they may not fly properly or even break on impact and not take down her target. Considering the enemies they were going to be facing, unless she pierced the skull those creatures weren't going to fall down. Thus she had to keep her weapons in perfect condition and extremely sharp.

As she was inspecting the blade of one of the last knives, she noticed one of the women in the expedition waving at her. It was that woman who she met while they were preparing the horses. She didn't get much chance to talk with her back then. It seemed that Sarah and that woman... what was her name... ahh yeah... Gwenyfar. It was what she heard from some of the other members of the Consano in the brief moments when they talked. Smiling cause of the situation that was present, Karen quickly rose from her place and walked over to the other two women.
"Greetings, my name is Karen. Nice to meet you again, we met briefly when were were setting off, but not since." She said when she approached and reached a hand for a handshake with Gwenyfar. "So what can I do for you two?" The olive-skinned woman asked.

Gwen studied the woman as she moved over towards them, introducing herself as Karen. When she queried what she could do for them, Gwenyfar looked to Sarah and replied, shaking Karen`s as she did so, "Gwenyfar. It`s a pleasure. Sarah and I were going to head down to the river for a quick dip to wash up. Do you want to come with us? We`ll lose light the longer we wait." She offered the woman the same complacement smile that she gave Sarah.

"There is no way I will refuse an invitation such as this one, now is there?" The assassin said with a happy voice and smiled. She herself was beginning to feel the stench that was starting to come out from here. One rule she had was to keep good hygiene and she had already ignored it longer than she was willing to because there was no suitable chance till now.

"Let's go then, just a moment to get a thing from my bag..." Karen replied and with a quick dash she went to her luggage where she took a small wrapped object. It was her soap...

"Alright, I'm ready to go now." She said once she quickly dashed back to Sarah and Gwen.

Sarah eyed the soap longingly. It would have been a luxury in the river, but on the operating table, it was a necessity. For this reason Sarah had left her own soap behind, buried in her pack with the rest of her tools. The cleansing of sand would have to suffice.

Let us hurry, we haven’t much time.” Sarah prodded the other two. Without waiting, she pushed ahead, out of the encampment. For legs so short, the young healer took long and swift strides so as the other women must nearly jog to keep up. As the icy wind blew, Sarah tucked her thin hands deep into the pockets of her brown wool dress.

The river was ahead of them, and one could hear it babbling beyond the line of trees which they passed under. The smell of pine wafted richly as they stepped over a damp carpet of needles. The water itself was narrow and rocky. Sarah doubted it was deep enough to pass over her head.
"Best not to take chances." She thought. The blond woman walked several paces up stream to what was sure to be a shallow area.

With no time for shyness, she began to strip off her many layers. First her cloak, her long knife, then the wool dress, finally the white cotton shift. Though she had not been particularly warm before hand, the dusk air brought goose bumps over Sarah’s pale skin. Dark blue bruising along her inner thighs made her seem even more fragile. “And even more useless,” she thought bitterly. Sarah finished her disrobement by discreetly unstrapping her thigh halter which carried the small knife she saved for compromising situations. This she tucked underneath her leather undergarments.

After tucking her belongings in front of a boulder, where she could keep an eye on them, Sarah all but ran to the water, eager to be clothed again. She knew what to expect. To call the water frigid would not do it justice. Luckily, the young woman had long since forgotten the comfort of bath houses. It seemed to her, she might never know such opulence again. Before stepping in, she made certain her companions were still in sight.

Karen raised an eyebrow as they approached the river.
"This is gona be quite chilly, it's going to be a bad idea to directly head off to the camp after getting out of the water." The exotic woman said as she quickly broke some branches from nearby trees. She saw Sarah already entering the river so the assassin hastened with her actions. She quickly piled up the wooden sticks and began to form a small campfire.
"It's going to be a good idea to have a fire like this to at least dry our hairs before returning to the camp no?" She asked the other women.

After setting up the fire she felt the warmth on her skin, but bath came first. The olive-skinned woman quickly began to strip too, removing the number of knives she kept on her self in the process and piled them on the ground next to her cloak. Afterwards she took her soap and a piece of what appeared to be kind of a sponge and headed to the river not to far from Sarah.

After rubbing the soap onto the sponge for a while, she turned towards the other two people with her.
"Any of you want to use the soap?" She asked with a smile, there was no need to keep it for herself. She already soaped the sponge so she didn't need it at the moment.

Gwenyfar had followed Sarah, who happened to be a spritely creature as her pace was long, causing her to jog just to keep up. She kept a good pace with Sarah as they passed through a pine thicket that lead the trio of woman to the river`s edge. It seemed rather rocky until the women followed Sarah to a shallower side of the ride. Her eyes did not mean to linger, but she did sneak peeks at the other women as they undressed, nervous that they were watching her. She did note that Karen carried an almost unfathomable amount of knives on her person. And that Sarah had strange bruising on the innermost part of her thighs. The cold air didn`t help at all, so when Karen had built the fire,she knew it would be of a great service to them after.

"Yes, I think that`ll be just fine, thank you Karen. We could suffer from the cold and fall sick if our hair was still damp." She mumbled the last part more to herself again; an unbeknownst habit to her.

She paid heed only to her body after, and undressed quickly. The hardest part was unlacing her leather jerkin, along with her trousers, shin guards and bracers. She sighed with a breath of relief and stepped into the water, goosebumps sprouted up as she eased into the water causing her to shiver. Gwenyfar had removed everything except for her lower undergarments, she placed one hand across her buxom chest and began to splash water upon herself. She watched as the water erased the layers of dirt that had become caked on in the short few days they had travelled.

When Karen offered her soap, Gwenyfar bit her lip and looked to Sarah and then nodded at Karen, "Aye, if you don`t mind, I would love a bit of soap. It`s a luxury we`ll all miss in the days to come, I`m certain. Do you make it yourself?"

If there was anything Gwenyfar was particularly good at it was making small talk. She learned the trait from the merchants she bargained with in her earlier years with her father. She reached out to take the soap from her with an open palm, suggesting that she meant for no trickery; it had been many years at that since she had been in company of more than one woman at a time, and especially when bathing.

Sarah had thanked Karen for her generous offer of soap but immediately declined. She was not about to start indebting herself to these or any other member of the Consano. In her experience, it was always better to be owed something, than it was to owe something back.

Bending down, Sarah scooped up a handful of river sand and began exfoliating her extremities with the black dust. She moved quickly, shivering like mad as she scrubbed. When the grime was sufficiently removed, the young woman pulled out the leather tie which held her long hair in place. Golden waves spilled out of the braid and Sarah combed through them ferociously with her fingers.

Nearby, Gwen and Karen seemed to be enjoying some small talk. Each woman had a pleasing figure. The assassin’s body was particularly feminine what with soft, ample curves which complimented her athletic limbs. She had started a fire nearby and Sarah wished she had placed her clothes nearby the heat. A few short minutes passed and it was time for the worst and finale part, washing her hair.

The young healer took a few breaths, plucking up the nerve to dip herself backwards below the icy stream. When she emerged, it would be an all out dash to get dry and warm.

One..two...three...

Instead of plunging to the ground, scrubbing with some stones, and hoisting herself back up again, Sarah’s left leg had slipped down into a divet under the water. Losing her balance, the healer’s entire body submerged into a sneakily deep portion of the river.

Though the water was cold enough to stop a man’ heart, it was sheer panic that gripped Sarah’s as she struggled to gain footing. Too short to reach the bottom, the woman sputtered on water, gasping for air which did not come.

Karen was just happy to give Gwen the soap. It was only natural to help each other, especially when it came to things such as keeping yourself clean. It is how she was raised after all, public baths were a common thing down to the south where things such as water supplies were limited thus baths were usually near water sources thus they were made public.

"Ahh yes I made it myself. I made it specially with some herbs and milk, that way it's very good for one's skin. It's a family recipe, I found that the soaps here in the north thend to be too rough and bad for the skin." The assassin said with a amused smile. Such small talk so typical for normal women wasn't often thing for her. It was kind of refreshing to do so. As she handed Gwen the bar of soap, she didn't miss the chance to get a good look at the woman's figure. She was beautiful too.

"You will sense it's effects once you try it."

Gwenyfar nodded agreeably with Karen, "Yes, that is the most unfortunate thing here, most folk here just throw things together in a vat and call it soap. I find goat's milk to be very beneficial to the skin, especially mixed with lavender, mint and rosemary." Here, she brought the soap to her nose and gave it a sniff,and found the aroma to be very appeasing. As she soaped herself up, Gwenyfar watched Sarah's gold locks spill asunder over her backside. She admired blonde hair for its radiance, yet she also admired Karen's black hair for its sheen and darkness. It reminded her of a raven's feather, even with a bluish tint to it. But that may as well have been cast from the firelight.

Karen sighed at Sarah's refusal to her gesture. The assassin made a puzzled expression of what to do. The healer appeared to be kind of distant and the olive-skinned woman wondered if that was going to be fine for the future. Well in the end of the day it wasn't her right to meddle with how the woman felt... at least for now that is. If it was going to prove to be a problem for the future, the assassin was going to have to convice Sarah to be friendlier somehow, but she really had no idea how to do that.

As she was in her thoughts, she used the time to wash herself properly from all the dirt with the sponge and as she finally completely submerge in the water for a moment to wash her hair too, she noticed what was going with Sarah.

Karen was by no way unable to swim. In fact she was great swimmer as forced to learn and hone that skill. Thus she quickly with quick move she threw the sponge near the campfire and quickly moved in Sarah's direction, she seemed to have stepped on hidden deep part of the river. It happened all the time and it was often deadly. As she reached the healer a few moments later, she right away reached with her right hand and grabbed Sarah from behind and under the armpits, using her left hand to pull herself and the healer back into the surface.

Gwenyfar unpinned her braid that she had wound about her head three days ago and let it fall across her shoulders, mahogany tresses shining red like blood in the firelight. She dipped beneath the surface and with one hand, erased the remaining traces of dirt and grime that had accumulated. When she surfaced, bar of soap still in one hand, Gwenyfar immediately took notice of Sarah slipping under and with Karen racing over to her.

"Seriously..." Karen said as she was pulling the weaker girl to the shore. Considering they were going to be fighting zombies one of them almost died by drowning tonight...

Sarah spent a moment sputtering on the water which had nearly reached her lungs. She rolled onto her stomach pulling herself to her knees as she fought to get the last few drops out. Karen was standing over the young healer, concern, and a hint of condescension covered her dark features. Sarah was silent for a moment as she caught her breath. On the bright side, between the adrenaline coursing through her blood and the heat rising on her cheeks, she was no longer cold.

"Thank..." Sarah coughed, "Thank you." She managed.

If Sarah had felt useless before, she felt like an absolute burden now. "I'm sorry."

With a sense of urgency, Gwenyfar hauled herself to the waters edge, as she saw Karen hoist Sarah out of the water and onto the shoreline.

She clutched the soap in one hand, other hand across her chest and stood shaking in the wind as she looked down at Sarah, "Are you okay?" Worry crossed her face as surveyed their companion. She turned to Karen and offered her soap back to her.

{Credits @Denalz@rivaan@MacabreFox

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