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Laconia was one of the few places in Colchis that could be called flat, which was pertinent as the kingdom was largely mountainous in nature. As such, Zosime was looking across the province with a bit of wonder in her gaze, able to see so far with just her naked eye. It was a foreign feeling, and she felt a smirk quirk at her lips at how ridiculous she felt to be so impressed by a bit of flat ground. She tapped her heels against the sides of the dark bay gelding that she was riding, urging him onward towards the town that was nestled in the heart of the province.
Her visit to Laconia had been delayed for months, caught up in the duties that were required of her by the Molossian lieutenant. It was likely that this particular lead would no longer be any good, given how old it was -- but Zosime was desperate for any scrap of information. Her brother’s whereabouts had long been a point of contention for her entire family. Her mother was convinced that Zosimos had simply been swept up by the Gods, and that he would be returned to them if they saw fit. His twin held no such notions. He was somewhere in the world, and she would find him -- even if it cost her everything.
The Fifth Phalanx were not completely unfamiliar to her, as at some point or another every military unit in Colchis had stood shoulder to shoulder in some battle or skirmish. When she reached the outskirts of the city, she turned her mount in the direction that she had determined to be the main gathering place of the soldiers of this province. She earned a few scrutinizing gazes as she swung down from the horse’s back, a sword at her hip and a bow slung across her back.
Zosi’s first love had always been the sword, but given that Colchian law forbade her from wielding it in battle -- she had found her second love with the bow. She could hit a moving target as well as a stationary one, and had recently taken up mounted archery as a way to further improve her skills. Her swordsmanship suffered, but she was sure that she could handle herself if things came to that.
She took the time to tie off her horse, scratching his neck before turning to the men who were openly staring at her. It was not uncommon either. She was not only a woman, but someone with striking beauty. Her pale eyes set in dusky skin, the wild tangle of curls that was only just contained. She looked a little strange in the military garb, instead looking like she should be a priestess of Aphrodite. She was lithe in frame but tall in stature, nearly measuring up to some of the men around her.
She approached the nearest set of men, and inclined her head respectfully. It was all they would get from her. ”I’m looking for Alastair of Nethisa.” She said, looking between them for any spark of recognition.
”What business do you have?” One of the men asked, and Zosi braced herself internally for a fight.
”My business is my business.” She told him, her voice crisp and sharp as any blade. ”And I will discuss it with Alastair, if you would be inclined to point me in his direction.”
The soldiers shifted on their feet, the unease between them obvious as they glanced at each other.
”He should be over there.” One of them finally said, earning a look of disdain from the other. He had gestured vaguely, but it was enough that Zosime nodded her thanks and began to briskly walk that way. When she saw another man, she raised her voice -- trying to catch his attention.
Alastair of Nethisa?” Her voice rang out, sharp to catch his attention. She was not even sure that it was him, but it looked like it might be based on the vague description she had of him and the direction that she had been pointed in.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Laconia was one of the few places in Colchis that could be called flat, which was pertinent as the kingdom was largely mountainous in nature. As such, Zosime was looking across the province with a bit of wonder in her gaze, able to see so far with just her naked eye. It was a foreign feeling, and she felt a smirk quirk at her lips at how ridiculous she felt to be so impressed by a bit of flat ground. She tapped her heels against the sides of the dark bay gelding that she was riding, urging him onward towards the town that was nestled in the heart of the province.
Her visit to Laconia had been delayed for months, caught up in the duties that were required of her by the Molossian lieutenant. It was likely that this particular lead would no longer be any good, given how old it was -- but Zosime was desperate for any scrap of information. Her brother’s whereabouts had long been a point of contention for her entire family. Her mother was convinced that Zosimos had simply been swept up by the Gods, and that he would be returned to them if they saw fit. His twin held no such notions. He was somewhere in the world, and she would find him -- even if it cost her everything.
The Fifth Phalanx were not completely unfamiliar to her, as at some point or another every military unit in Colchis had stood shoulder to shoulder in some battle or skirmish. When she reached the outskirts of the city, she turned her mount in the direction that she had determined to be the main gathering place of the soldiers of this province. She earned a few scrutinizing gazes as she swung down from the horse’s back, a sword at her hip and a bow slung across her back.
Zosi’s first love had always been the sword, but given that Colchian law forbade her from wielding it in battle -- she had found her second love with the bow. She could hit a moving target as well as a stationary one, and had recently taken up mounted archery as a way to further improve her skills. Her swordsmanship suffered, but she was sure that she could handle herself if things came to that.
She took the time to tie off her horse, scratching his neck before turning to the men who were openly staring at her. It was not uncommon either. She was not only a woman, but someone with striking beauty. Her pale eyes set in dusky skin, the wild tangle of curls that was only just contained. She looked a little strange in the military garb, instead looking like she should be a priestess of Aphrodite. She was lithe in frame but tall in stature, nearly measuring up to some of the men around her.
She approached the nearest set of men, and inclined her head respectfully. It was all they would get from her. ”I’m looking for Alastair of Nethisa.” She said, looking between them for any spark of recognition.
”What business do you have?” One of the men asked, and Zosi braced herself internally for a fight.
”My business is my business.” She told him, her voice crisp and sharp as any blade. ”And I will discuss it with Alastair, if you would be inclined to point me in his direction.”
The soldiers shifted on their feet, the unease between them obvious as they glanced at each other.
”He should be over there.” One of them finally said, earning a look of disdain from the other. He had gestured vaguely, but it was enough that Zosime nodded her thanks and began to briskly walk that way. When she saw another man, she raised her voice -- trying to catch his attention.
Alastair of Nethisa?” Her voice rang out, sharp to catch his attention. She was not even sure that it was him, but it looked like it might be based on the vague description she had of him and the direction that she had been pointed in.
Laconia was one of the few places in Colchis that could be called flat, which was pertinent as the kingdom was largely mountainous in nature. As such, Zosime was looking across the province with a bit of wonder in her gaze, able to see so far with just her naked eye. It was a foreign feeling, and she felt a smirk quirk at her lips at how ridiculous she felt to be so impressed by a bit of flat ground. She tapped her heels against the sides of the dark bay gelding that she was riding, urging him onward towards the town that was nestled in the heart of the province.
Her visit to Laconia had been delayed for months, caught up in the duties that were required of her by the Molossian lieutenant. It was likely that this particular lead would no longer be any good, given how old it was -- but Zosime was desperate for any scrap of information. Her brother’s whereabouts had long been a point of contention for her entire family. Her mother was convinced that Zosimos had simply been swept up by the Gods, and that he would be returned to them if they saw fit. His twin held no such notions. He was somewhere in the world, and she would find him -- even if it cost her everything.
The Fifth Phalanx were not completely unfamiliar to her, as at some point or another every military unit in Colchis had stood shoulder to shoulder in some battle or skirmish. When she reached the outskirts of the city, she turned her mount in the direction that she had determined to be the main gathering place of the soldiers of this province. She earned a few scrutinizing gazes as she swung down from the horse’s back, a sword at her hip and a bow slung across her back.
Zosi’s first love had always been the sword, but given that Colchian law forbade her from wielding it in battle -- she had found her second love with the bow. She could hit a moving target as well as a stationary one, and had recently taken up mounted archery as a way to further improve her skills. Her swordsmanship suffered, but she was sure that she could handle herself if things came to that.
She took the time to tie off her horse, scratching his neck before turning to the men who were openly staring at her. It was not uncommon either. She was not only a woman, but someone with striking beauty. Her pale eyes set in dusky skin, the wild tangle of curls that was only just contained. She looked a little strange in the military garb, instead looking like she should be a priestess of Aphrodite. She was lithe in frame but tall in stature, nearly measuring up to some of the men around her.
She approached the nearest set of men, and inclined her head respectfully. It was all they would get from her. ”I’m looking for Alastair of Nethisa.” She said, looking between them for any spark of recognition.
”What business do you have?” One of the men asked, and Zosi braced herself internally for a fight.
”My business is my business.” She told him, her voice crisp and sharp as any blade. ”And I will discuss it with Alastair, if you would be inclined to point me in his direction.”
The soldiers shifted on their feet, the unease between them obvious as they glanced at each other.
”He should be over there.” One of them finally said, earning a look of disdain from the other. He had gestured vaguely, but it was enough that Zosime nodded her thanks and began to briskly walk that way. When she saw another man, she raised her voice -- trying to catch his attention.
Alastair of Nethisa?” Her voice rang out, sharp to catch his attention. She was not even sure that it was him, but it looked like it might be based on the vague description she had of him and the direction that she had been pointed in.
Alastair of Nethisa was a man who knew both sides of the world. He had spent his childhood watching his mother go from happy wife to impoverished widow who would do whatever it took to keep her son fed and happy. He had done his best to try and fill the void that her dead husband, then parents, left in their lives. But poverty had hit hard, and so he knew what it was like to end up on the street. And when his mother died, he knew what true starvation was like.
He had vowed as soon as he was old enough, he would serve in the military.
Alastair was lucky enough to avoid the mines, where most orphans ended up. He kept his head low, refusing to steal to stay fed. Odd jobs here and there would keep his stomach full, and the level of respect he had meant that he could offer a little protection to the others who found themselves without a home. And as soon as he turned 13, he found himself on a ship to Laconia. Hard work and dedication had brought him up through the ranks, and now he had more than enough. Enough money to keep him happy, enough food to keep him full and a place to sleep every night. After having nothing, he felt like a king among men most days.
It was not as if life became simple as soon as he joined. His young age had made him all but a servant, cleaning weapons and sharpening arrows, cooking and doing wash for older men. He had to show that he was dedicated enough to even earn a chance to begin training. Patiently, he was allowed to train, and eventually, he was welcomed into the ranks. But for a boy who had nothing, that was not enough.
Blood and sweat had earned him his current rank, and the lieutenant was proud of the accomplishment that came with it. Now he was a trainer of men, assisting those in the art of the sword, teaching tactics and meeting with the great minds of the military. While Alastair was a mostly silent man, he observed those around him and picked up on the cues of others. He may not have been born into the role he was in, but Gods, he had earned every bit of it.
While he usually wasn’t one to settle into the larger groups, his men had convinced the usually serious soldier to relax with them that evening. Alastair had been hesitant, but with a little prodding, he found himself seated in the circle, each man there one he trusted with his life. They spoke of their pasts, the troubles they got into. But he never spoke, just listened and laughed with them, taking in the atmosphere and enjoying it for what it was. He was well aware of how quickly these moments could change. How you could be enjoying life one minute and gone the next.
A voice, calling his name, seemed to bring the whole conversation to a grinding halt. The men looked at each other, then stared at him-- a man who rarely was seen without anyone but the soldiers already present. And then, the heckling started. He stood to face whoever it was, and stopped. There was something about her features that made him pause, but he couldn’t say what it was. Hundreds of people had come and gone from his life, each leaving a memory behind.
And it wasn’t the fact that she was breathtakingly gorgeous either. No, there was more to it. He was dressed sensibly, free of most armor with only his sword at his side, the dark colored chiton and himation gave little indication of his rank. “I am Alastair of Nethisa.” He said, bowing his head as he approached her. “Is there something I can help you with, my lady?”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Alastair of Nethisa was a man who knew both sides of the world. He had spent his childhood watching his mother go from happy wife to impoverished widow who would do whatever it took to keep her son fed and happy. He had done his best to try and fill the void that her dead husband, then parents, left in their lives. But poverty had hit hard, and so he knew what it was like to end up on the street. And when his mother died, he knew what true starvation was like.
He had vowed as soon as he was old enough, he would serve in the military.
Alastair was lucky enough to avoid the mines, where most orphans ended up. He kept his head low, refusing to steal to stay fed. Odd jobs here and there would keep his stomach full, and the level of respect he had meant that he could offer a little protection to the others who found themselves without a home. And as soon as he turned 13, he found himself on a ship to Laconia. Hard work and dedication had brought him up through the ranks, and now he had more than enough. Enough money to keep him happy, enough food to keep him full and a place to sleep every night. After having nothing, he felt like a king among men most days.
It was not as if life became simple as soon as he joined. His young age had made him all but a servant, cleaning weapons and sharpening arrows, cooking and doing wash for older men. He had to show that he was dedicated enough to even earn a chance to begin training. Patiently, he was allowed to train, and eventually, he was welcomed into the ranks. But for a boy who had nothing, that was not enough.
Blood and sweat had earned him his current rank, and the lieutenant was proud of the accomplishment that came with it. Now he was a trainer of men, assisting those in the art of the sword, teaching tactics and meeting with the great minds of the military. While Alastair was a mostly silent man, he observed those around him and picked up on the cues of others. He may not have been born into the role he was in, but Gods, he had earned every bit of it.
While he usually wasn’t one to settle into the larger groups, his men had convinced the usually serious soldier to relax with them that evening. Alastair had been hesitant, but with a little prodding, he found himself seated in the circle, each man there one he trusted with his life. They spoke of their pasts, the troubles they got into. But he never spoke, just listened and laughed with them, taking in the atmosphere and enjoying it for what it was. He was well aware of how quickly these moments could change. How you could be enjoying life one minute and gone the next.
A voice, calling his name, seemed to bring the whole conversation to a grinding halt. The men looked at each other, then stared at him-- a man who rarely was seen without anyone but the soldiers already present. And then, the heckling started. He stood to face whoever it was, and stopped. There was something about her features that made him pause, but he couldn’t say what it was. Hundreds of people had come and gone from his life, each leaving a memory behind.
And it wasn’t the fact that she was breathtakingly gorgeous either. No, there was more to it. He was dressed sensibly, free of most armor with only his sword at his side, the dark colored chiton and himation gave little indication of his rank. “I am Alastair of Nethisa.” He said, bowing his head as he approached her. “Is there something I can help you with, my lady?”
Alastair of Nethisa was a man who knew both sides of the world. He had spent his childhood watching his mother go from happy wife to impoverished widow who would do whatever it took to keep her son fed and happy. He had done his best to try and fill the void that her dead husband, then parents, left in their lives. But poverty had hit hard, and so he knew what it was like to end up on the street. And when his mother died, he knew what true starvation was like.
He had vowed as soon as he was old enough, he would serve in the military.
Alastair was lucky enough to avoid the mines, where most orphans ended up. He kept his head low, refusing to steal to stay fed. Odd jobs here and there would keep his stomach full, and the level of respect he had meant that he could offer a little protection to the others who found themselves without a home. And as soon as he turned 13, he found himself on a ship to Laconia. Hard work and dedication had brought him up through the ranks, and now he had more than enough. Enough money to keep him happy, enough food to keep him full and a place to sleep every night. After having nothing, he felt like a king among men most days.
It was not as if life became simple as soon as he joined. His young age had made him all but a servant, cleaning weapons and sharpening arrows, cooking and doing wash for older men. He had to show that he was dedicated enough to even earn a chance to begin training. Patiently, he was allowed to train, and eventually, he was welcomed into the ranks. But for a boy who had nothing, that was not enough.
Blood and sweat had earned him his current rank, and the lieutenant was proud of the accomplishment that came with it. Now he was a trainer of men, assisting those in the art of the sword, teaching tactics and meeting with the great minds of the military. While Alastair was a mostly silent man, he observed those around him and picked up on the cues of others. He may not have been born into the role he was in, but Gods, he had earned every bit of it.
While he usually wasn’t one to settle into the larger groups, his men had convinced the usually serious soldier to relax with them that evening. Alastair had been hesitant, but with a little prodding, he found himself seated in the circle, each man there one he trusted with his life. They spoke of their pasts, the troubles they got into. But he never spoke, just listened and laughed with them, taking in the atmosphere and enjoying it for what it was. He was well aware of how quickly these moments could change. How you could be enjoying life one minute and gone the next.
A voice, calling his name, seemed to bring the whole conversation to a grinding halt. The men looked at each other, then stared at him-- a man who rarely was seen without anyone but the soldiers already present. And then, the heckling started. He stood to face whoever it was, and stopped. There was something about her features that made him pause, but he couldn’t say what it was. Hundreds of people had come and gone from his life, each leaving a memory behind.
And it wasn’t the fact that she was breathtakingly gorgeous either. No, there was more to it. He was dressed sensibly, free of most armor with only his sword at his side, the dark colored chiton and himation gave little indication of his rank. “I am Alastair of Nethisa.” He said, bowing his head as he approached her. “Is there something I can help you with, my lady?”
Zosime’s mind tended to be a linear thing, focused like an arrow and not deviating from a path once it had been loosed. It was why she could not allow herself to dwell too much on her brother’s disappearance as she had in the beginning. She would run herself into the ground to find him, go to any length and chase any lead. Phaedra had been a grounding influence for the young soldier, helping her let go of the things that she couldn’t change. Still, she had jumped at the first chance she had gotten to follow the scrap of information-- given to her in a bar brawl no less. She would face the repercussions of ditching her military duties later. Phaedra was sure to be pissed.
So the young soldier squared her shoulders, watching as Alastair of Nethisa rose from the circle of men relaxing in a circle of other men. She briefly looked him over, finding that he was just a hair’s breadth taller than she was when he was close enough for it to matter. She hoped that he could not read the hope on her face, trying to guard it. It was likely that this stranger would have nothing to say, or that her information had been wrong about him all along.
He was handsome, she noted absently, a mop of dark hair and pale blue eyes with broad shoulders. His clothes were dark, compared to the lighter colors she wore but both of them carried weapons. If she had time, she might have considered him a conquest worth making, but she had business here. Not pleasure. She flicked the thought away, back to the straight and narrow. Information. He had information. Maybe.
She bowed her head in respect as he did the same, confirming her suspicions by introducing himself. My lady? She thought, wondering why he would bother giving her such respect. She almost would have preferred that he didn’t. Zosime had always wanted to be one of the boys, and had always run with them like they were a pack of wolves.
”I am Zosime of Lyncaea.” She began, hoisting her chin defiantly. ”My lieutenant is Phaedra of Molossia, my unit the Molossian Wolves.” She was standing straighter now, her feet slightly apart as if she were standing in one of the unit’s lines. ”I have some questions for you, regarding someone that you might have met before.” Her gaze flickered to the men behind them, many of whom were watching the exchange with interest. She felt her lip curl. Did they not have women in this unit?
She cleared her throat before continuing, swinging her pale gaze to his own. ”Is there somewhere more private that we could speak? Have you had evening meal yet?”
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Zosime’s mind tended to be a linear thing, focused like an arrow and not deviating from a path once it had been loosed. It was why she could not allow herself to dwell too much on her brother’s disappearance as she had in the beginning. She would run herself into the ground to find him, go to any length and chase any lead. Phaedra had been a grounding influence for the young soldier, helping her let go of the things that she couldn’t change. Still, she had jumped at the first chance she had gotten to follow the scrap of information-- given to her in a bar brawl no less. She would face the repercussions of ditching her military duties later. Phaedra was sure to be pissed.
So the young soldier squared her shoulders, watching as Alastair of Nethisa rose from the circle of men relaxing in a circle of other men. She briefly looked him over, finding that he was just a hair’s breadth taller than she was when he was close enough for it to matter. She hoped that he could not read the hope on her face, trying to guard it. It was likely that this stranger would have nothing to say, or that her information had been wrong about him all along.
He was handsome, she noted absently, a mop of dark hair and pale blue eyes with broad shoulders. His clothes were dark, compared to the lighter colors she wore but both of them carried weapons. If she had time, she might have considered him a conquest worth making, but she had business here. Not pleasure. She flicked the thought away, back to the straight and narrow. Information. He had information. Maybe.
She bowed her head in respect as he did the same, confirming her suspicions by introducing himself. My lady? She thought, wondering why he would bother giving her such respect. She almost would have preferred that he didn’t. Zosime had always wanted to be one of the boys, and had always run with them like they were a pack of wolves.
”I am Zosime of Lyncaea.” She began, hoisting her chin defiantly. ”My lieutenant is Phaedra of Molossia, my unit the Molossian Wolves.” She was standing straighter now, her feet slightly apart as if she were standing in one of the unit’s lines. ”I have some questions for you, regarding someone that you might have met before.” Her gaze flickered to the men behind them, many of whom were watching the exchange with interest. She felt her lip curl. Did they not have women in this unit?
She cleared her throat before continuing, swinging her pale gaze to his own. ”Is there somewhere more private that we could speak? Have you had evening meal yet?”
Zosime’s mind tended to be a linear thing, focused like an arrow and not deviating from a path once it had been loosed. It was why she could not allow herself to dwell too much on her brother’s disappearance as she had in the beginning. She would run herself into the ground to find him, go to any length and chase any lead. Phaedra had been a grounding influence for the young soldier, helping her let go of the things that she couldn’t change. Still, she had jumped at the first chance she had gotten to follow the scrap of information-- given to her in a bar brawl no less. She would face the repercussions of ditching her military duties later. Phaedra was sure to be pissed.
So the young soldier squared her shoulders, watching as Alastair of Nethisa rose from the circle of men relaxing in a circle of other men. She briefly looked him over, finding that he was just a hair’s breadth taller than she was when he was close enough for it to matter. She hoped that he could not read the hope on her face, trying to guard it. It was likely that this stranger would have nothing to say, or that her information had been wrong about him all along.
He was handsome, she noted absently, a mop of dark hair and pale blue eyes with broad shoulders. His clothes were dark, compared to the lighter colors she wore but both of them carried weapons. If she had time, she might have considered him a conquest worth making, but she had business here. Not pleasure. She flicked the thought away, back to the straight and narrow. Information. He had information. Maybe.
She bowed her head in respect as he did the same, confirming her suspicions by introducing himself. My lady? She thought, wondering why he would bother giving her such respect. She almost would have preferred that he didn’t. Zosime had always wanted to be one of the boys, and had always run with them like they were a pack of wolves.
”I am Zosime of Lyncaea.” She began, hoisting her chin defiantly. ”My lieutenant is Phaedra of Molossia, my unit the Molossian Wolves.” She was standing straighter now, her feet slightly apart as if she were standing in one of the unit’s lines. ”I have some questions for you, regarding someone that you might have met before.” Her gaze flickered to the men behind them, many of whom were watching the exchange with interest. She felt her lip curl. Did they not have women in this unit?
She cleared her throat before continuing, swinging her pale gaze to his own. ”Is there somewhere more private that we could speak? Have you had evening meal yet?”
Having found himself a part of a brothel from a young age, he had learned that every woman wanted to be treated like a lady, even if they pretended otherwise. And for him, calling her a lady was meant as respect and not insult. Alastair believed in elevating women, in assuming that all were of the highest caliber from the moment they were introduced.
It also helped him when he wanted something, he’d learned. It was amazing the amount of information or money you could get out of a woman when they felt a mutual respect.
He couldn’t deny he was surprised to see that she was a soldier, but then again, this was Colchis-- almost any woman could join if they wished and had the skill. And if she was a part of the Wolves, she must have had some skill. There was a brief moment where he wondered what just how well she could fight, how well she knew how to use the weapons at her side. The idea of going to combat with a woman was different than anything he was used to.
But he’d also learned the beautiful women knew they were beautiful and used it to every advantage. She would certainly be able to defeat him, simply for the fact that he would be hard pressed to put his full training into a fight with a woman.
He gave her a smile, “My mother was a whore, and her death made me an orphan, which means I’ve met a lot of people.” He said offhandedly, ignoring the group of men behind him. “My tent is set up on the other side of camp, perhaps that will be private enough?” He asked, hands resting on his hips as he waited for her answer. “Or perhaps we can find a table in a tavern, should you wish to use the noise in your favor.” He could understand the desire to do both, but left it up to her.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Having found himself a part of a brothel from a young age, he had learned that every woman wanted to be treated like a lady, even if they pretended otherwise. And for him, calling her a lady was meant as respect and not insult. Alastair believed in elevating women, in assuming that all were of the highest caliber from the moment they were introduced.
It also helped him when he wanted something, he’d learned. It was amazing the amount of information or money you could get out of a woman when they felt a mutual respect.
He couldn’t deny he was surprised to see that she was a soldier, but then again, this was Colchis-- almost any woman could join if they wished and had the skill. And if she was a part of the Wolves, she must have had some skill. There was a brief moment where he wondered what just how well she could fight, how well she knew how to use the weapons at her side. The idea of going to combat with a woman was different than anything he was used to.
But he’d also learned the beautiful women knew they were beautiful and used it to every advantage. She would certainly be able to defeat him, simply for the fact that he would be hard pressed to put his full training into a fight with a woman.
He gave her a smile, “My mother was a whore, and her death made me an orphan, which means I’ve met a lot of people.” He said offhandedly, ignoring the group of men behind him. “My tent is set up on the other side of camp, perhaps that will be private enough?” He asked, hands resting on his hips as he waited for her answer. “Or perhaps we can find a table in a tavern, should you wish to use the noise in your favor.” He could understand the desire to do both, but left it up to her.
Having found himself a part of a brothel from a young age, he had learned that every woman wanted to be treated like a lady, even if they pretended otherwise. And for him, calling her a lady was meant as respect and not insult. Alastair believed in elevating women, in assuming that all were of the highest caliber from the moment they were introduced.
It also helped him when he wanted something, he’d learned. It was amazing the amount of information or money you could get out of a woman when they felt a mutual respect.
He couldn’t deny he was surprised to see that she was a soldier, but then again, this was Colchis-- almost any woman could join if they wished and had the skill. And if she was a part of the Wolves, she must have had some skill. There was a brief moment where he wondered what just how well she could fight, how well she knew how to use the weapons at her side. The idea of going to combat with a woman was different than anything he was used to.
But he’d also learned the beautiful women knew they were beautiful and used it to every advantage. She would certainly be able to defeat him, simply for the fact that he would be hard pressed to put his full training into a fight with a woman.
He gave her a smile, “My mother was a whore, and her death made me an orphan, which means I’ve met a lot of people.” He said offhandedly, ignoring the group of men behind him. “My tent is set up on the other side of camp, perhaps that will be private enough?” He asked, hands resting on his hips as he waited for her answer. “Or perhaps we can find a table in a tavern, should you wish to use the noise in your favor.” He could understand the desire to do both, but left it up to her.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling the anxious prickle of her skin as she watched the man before her. It was the hope that he might have answers for her, that he could give her a piece of knowledge that might lead her to her brother. Simo, I’m coming. She thought, the hope that she’d thought smothered still flickering like candlelight within her chest. She wondered if he could see the look in her eyes, the wild feeling of desperation spreading.
He smiled, and she noted -- not for the first time -- that he was quite handsome. It was a little disarming, the information that followed that smile and she felt herself hesitate as she tried to figure out how exactly to respond to that. It ended up being blunt, as she tended to be. ”Are you….always so quick to admit your mother’s tendencies in bed?” She asked, tilting her head ever so slightly as her brows went from raised in surprise to furrowed in confusion. She lifted a hand, waving away his response. ”Nevermind, I don’t need to know that.”
She brushed back a tangle of curls that had fallen from their confinement, knowing it was just the beginning. The tie she’d put in her hair was certainly on its last leg, and she was not sure she had another. Her hair was bothersome on its best day, but she could not bring herself to cut it. Her mother was already so disappointed because she had chosen to take up the life of a soldier rather than settle down. She just hated having to fuss with it to do anything beyond be a wild mess.
Her eyes swept to the others in the distance, watching as a few dropped their gaze or pretended to return to their conversations when they saw that she was looking back. Going back to his tent would probably give them the wrong idea, but a tavern was going to be noisy. Distracting. She could miss something subtle. She scrutinized him, sizing him up for half of a second before opening her mouth.
”Your tent is fine. This...won’t take long, I hope.” She said, dropping her gaze momentarily to where his hands had found his hips. Unexpectedly, she blushed -- her mind going somewhere that it certainly should not have and she covered it by clearing her throat, and placing a hand against the hilt of her sword. ”I don’t have anything to hide. The person I’m looking for isn’t in any trouble.” She gave a shrug of her shoulders and indicated with a nod of her head that he should lead on.
As they began to move in that direction, she didn’t look back to see if those men were still staring after them. Of course they would be. ”Have you been part of the Fifth for long?” She asked, hoping to ease into the subject of her brother. ”You look a little young to be a soldier. No offense.”
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She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling the anxious prickle of her skin as she watched the man before her. It was the hope that he might have answers for her, that he could give her a piece of knowledge that might lead her to her brother. Simo, I’m coming. She thought, the hope that she’d thought smothered still flickering like candlelight within her chest. She wondered if he could see the look in her eyes, the wild feeling of desperation spreading.
He smiled, and she noted -- not for the first time -- that he was quite handsome. It was a little disarming, the information that followed that smile and she felt herself hesitate as she tried to figure out how exactly to respond to that. It ended up being blunt, as she tended to be. ”Are you….always so quick to admit your mother’s tendencies in bed?” She asked, tilting her head ever so slightly as her brows went from raised in surprise to furrowed in confusion. She lifted a hand, waving away his response. ”Nevermind, I don’t need to know that.”
She brushed back a tangle of curls that had fallen from their confinement, knowing it was just the beginning. The tie she’d put in her hair was certainly on its last leg, and she was not sure she had another. Her hair was bothersome on its best day, but she could not bring herself to cut it. Her mother was already so disappointed because she had chosen to take up the life of a soldier rather than settle down. She just hated having to fuss with it to do anything beyond be a wild mess.
Her eyes swept to the others in the distance, watching as a few dropped their gaze or pretended to return to their conversations when they saw that she was looking back. Going back to his tent would probably give them the wrong idea, but a tavern was going to be noisy. Distracting. She could miss something subtle. She scrutinized him, sizing him up for half of a second before opening her mouth.
”Your tent is fine. This...won’t take long, I hope.” She said, dropping her gaze momentarily to where his hands had found his hips. Unexpectedly, she blushed -- her mind going somewhere that it certainly should not have and she covered it by clearing her throat, and placing a hand against the hilt of her sword. ”I don’t have anything to hide. The person I’m looking for isn’t in any trouble.” She gave a shrug of her shoulders and indicated with a nod of her head that he should lead on.
As they began to move in that direction, she didn’t look back to see if those men were still staring after them. Of course they would be. ”Have you been part of the Fifth for long?” She asked, hoping to ease into the subject of her brother. ”You look a little young to be a soldier. No offense.”
She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling the anxious prickle of her skin as she watched the man before her. It was the hope that he might have answers for her, that he could give her a piece of knowledge that might lead her to her brother. Simo, I’m coming. She thought, the hope that she’d thought smothered still flickering like candlelight within her chest. She wondered if he could see the look in her eyes, the wild feeling of desperation spreading.
He smiled, and she noted -- not for the first time -- that he was quite handsome. It was a little disarming, the information that followed that smile and she felt herself hesitate as she tried to figure out how exactly to respond to that. It ended up being blunt, as she tended to be. ”Are you….always so quick to admit your mother’s tendencies in bed?” She asked, tilting her head ever so slightly as her brows went from raised in surprise to furrowed in confusion. She lifted a hand, waving away his response. ”Nevermind, I don’t need to know that.”
She brushed back a tangle of curls that had fallen from their confinement, knowing it was just the beginning. The tie she’d put in her hair was certainly on its last leg, and she was not sure she had another. Her hair was bothersome on its best day, but she could not bring herself to cut it. Her mother was already so disappointed because she had chosen to take up the life of a soldier rather than settle down. She just hated having to fuss with it to do anything beyond be a wild mess.
Her eyes swept to the others in the distance, watching as a few dropped their gaze or pretended to return to their conversations when they saw that she was looking back. Going back to his tent would probably give them the wrong idea, but a tavern was going to be noisy. Distracting. She could miss something subtle. She scrutinized him, sizing him up for half of a second before opening her mouth.
”Your tent is fine. This...won’t take long, I hope.” She said, dropping her gaze momentarily to where his hands had found his hips. Unexpectedly, she blushed -- her mind going somewhere that it certainly should not have and she covered it by clearing her throat, and placing a hand against the hilt of her sword. ”I don’t have anything to hide. The person I’m looking for isn’t in any trouble.” She gave a shrug of her shoulders and indicated with a nod of her head that he should lead on.
As they began to move in that direction, she didn’t look back to see if those men were still staring after them. Of course they would be. ”Have you been part of the Fifth for long?” She asked, hoping to ease into the subject of her brother. ”You look a little young to be a soldier. No offense.”