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Gods damn this day! Slipping into an alleyway Dafni ducked behind some crates and watched the bustling avenue she had just escaped from. Rounding the corner into sight was a court regular that had almost immediately recognized her even with her face done up in misleading cosmetics and commoners clothing. She had even left her hair down so she could hide behind the curtain of concealment it provided, yet still, the woman had seen her for the affluent Leventi she was. Dafni’s breath quickened as the woman got closer, panic seizing her chest at the thought of discovery. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to slip through the crowds unnoticed and discover everyone's deepest darkest secrets. She was going to hear something big and important that her father would gush over and eternally praise her for bringing him... not - not get caught by some loud mouth busy body like the lady who now pursued her.
She needed to disappear, escape back to the bathhouse she had come to use as her point of egress into the city streets in her disguise. Every so often she would travel to the affluent bathhouse, dismiss her maid, and pay an attendant for the use of some commoner garb before departing out the back door. She had done it a few times and so far and nobody had ever guessed. Nobody had ever seen her and thought, this girl in the cheap off white Peplos, is Dafni of Leventi. But today was different, obviously, and Dafni had no idea how to fix it. She was not well versed in the geography and layout of the Central Plateia’s back routes in a way that could facilitate a quick and silent disappearance. She could barely remember the layout of the main avenues and marketplace. She relied on her escorts for such plebeian knowledge, she was a lady, she needn't have to worry herself with anything of that nature.
But yet here she was, crouched behind crates like a common street rat, her dignity completely shredded beneath her feet. The pieces trodden upon and mixed with the refuse these lower class pigs liked to let themselves wallow in. At least she was not in the outer city, or gods be blessed, down by the docks. Danfi shuddered as she thought of the journey she had taken down to that foul place, another misbegotten adventure she now seemed to find herself repeating.
What was wrong with her? Why did she keep putting herself in these situations? The indignity of it all, no matter the fact it was one of her own making, made Dafni want to scream and rage at the world. Why did her whims not just work out. She was a Leventi, she should excel in all she did, people should fall over themselves to make her desires a reality! Tears of frustration welled in Dafni’s eyes and she scuttled farther back into the dull shadows of the alley. It was mid day, the sun high in the sky, its luminous presences leaving only so much darkness to hide herself within. Clenching the tendrils of her beautiful hair in the pampered pads of her hands Dafni scrunched them up tight and let out a silent scream. She may not be able to throw a full tantrum now but later, oh later she would scream all her rage at the closest target she could find. She would ream some deserving maid to within an inch of her life and then some. Peeking out from behind her shelter Dafni watched distraught as the woman grew every closer to her undesirable burrow. If she could disappear like mist on a sunny morning, the courtier would write the whole experience off as her own overactive imagination.
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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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Gods damn this day! Slipping into an alleyway Dafni ducked behind some crates and watched the bustling avenue she had just escaped from. Rounding the corner into sight was a court regular that had almost immediately recognized her even with her face done up in misleading cosmetics and commoners clothing. She had even left her hair down so she could hide behind the curtain of concealment it provided, yet still, the woman had seen her for the affluent Leventi she was. Dafni’s breath quickened as the woman got closer, panic seizing her chest at the thought of discovery. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to slip through the crowds unnoticed and discover everyone's deepest darkest secrets. She was going to hear something big and important that her father would gush over and eternally praise her for bringing him... not - not get caught by some loud mouth busy body like the lady who now pursued her.
She needed to disappear, escape back to the bathhouse she had come to use as her point of egress into the city streets in her disguise. Every so often she would travel to the affluent bathhouse, dismiss her maid, and pay an attendant for the use of some commoner garb before departing out the back door. She had done it a few times and so far and nobody had ever guessed. Nobody had ever seen her and thought, this girl in the cheap off white Peplos, is Dafni of Leventi. But today was different, obviously, and Dafni had no idea how to fix it. She was not well versed in the geography and layout of the Central Plateia’s back routes in a way that could facilitate a quick and silent disappearance. She could barely remember the layout of the main avenues and marketplace. She relied on her escorts for such plebeian knowledge, she was a lady, she needn't have to worry herself with anything of that nature.
But yet here she was, crouched behind crates like a common street rat, her dignity completely shredded beneath her feet. The pieces trodden upon and mixed with the refuse these lower class pigs liked to let themselves wallow in. At least she was not in the outer city, or gods be blessed, down by the docks. Danfi shuddered as she thought of the journey she had taken down to that foul place, another misbegotten adventure she now seemed to find herself repeating.
What was wrong with her? Why did she keep putting herself in these situations? The indignity of it all, no matter the fact it was one of her own making, made Dafni want to scream and rage at the world. Why did her whims not just work out. She was a Leventi, she should excel in all she did, people should fall over themselves to make her desires a reality! Tears of frustration welled in Dafni’s eyes and she scuttled farther back into the dull shadows of the alley. It was mid day, the sun high in the sky, its luminous presences leaving only so much darkness to hide herself within. Clenching the tendrils of her beautiful hair in the pampered pads of her hands Dafni scrunched them up tight and let out a silent scream. She may not be able to throw a full tantrum now but later, oh later she would scream all her rage at the closest target she could find. She would ream some deserving maid to within an inch of her life and then some. Peeking out from behind her shelter Dafni watched distraught as the woman grew every closer to her undesirable burrow. If she could disappear like mist on a sunny morning, the courtier would write the whole experience off as her own overactive imagination.
Gods damn this day! Slipping into an alleyway Dafni ducked behind some crates and watched the bustling avenue she had just escaped from. Rounding the corner into sight was a court regular that had almost immediately recognized her even with her face done up in misleading cosmetics and commoners clothing. She had even left her hair down so she could hide behind the curtain of concealment it provided, yet still, the woman had seen her for the affluent Leventi she was. Dafni’s breath quickened as the woman got closer, panic seizing her chest at the thought of discovery. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to slip through the crowds unnoticed and discover everyone's deepest darkest secrets. She was going to hear something big and important that her father would gush over and eternally praise her for bringing him... not - not get caught by some loud mouth busy body like the lady who now pursued her.
She needed to disappear, escape back to the bathhouse she had come to use as her point of egress into the city streets in her disguise. Every so often she would travel to the affluent bathhouse, dismiss her maid, and pay an attendant for the use of some commoner garb before departing out the back door. She had done it a few times and so far and nobody had ever guessed. Nobody had ever seen her and thought, this girl in the cheap off white Peplos, is Dafni of Leventi. But today was different, obviously, and Dafni had no idea how to fix it. She was not well versed in the geography and layout of the Central Plateia’s back routes in a way that could facilitate a quick and silent disappearance. She could barely remember the layout of the main avenues and marketplace. She relied on her escorts for such plebeian knowledge, she was a lady, she needn't have to worry herself with anything of that nature.
But yet here she was, crouched behind crates like a common street rat, her dignity completely shredded beneath her feet. The pieces trodden upon and mixed with the refuse these lower class pigs liked to let themselves wallow in. At least she was not in the outer city, or gods be blessed, down by the docks. Danfi shuddered as she thought of the journey she had taken down to that foul place, another misbegotten adventure she now seemed to find herself repeating.
What was wrong with her? Why did she keep putting herself in these situations? The indignity of it all, no matter the fact it was one of her own making, made Dafni want to scream and rage at the world. Why did her whims not just work out. She was a Leventi, she should excel in all she did, people should fall over themselves to make her desires a reality! Tears of frustration welled in Dafni’s eyes and she scuttled farther back into the dull shadows of the alley. It was mid day, the sun high in the sky, its luminous presences leaving only so much darkness to hide herself within. Clenching the tendrils of her beautiful hair in the pampered pads of her hands Dafni scrunched them up tight and let out a silent scream. She may not be able to throw a full tantrum now but later, oh later she would scream all her rage at the closest target she could find. She would ream some deserving maid to within an inch of her life and then some. Peeking out from behind her shelter Dafni watched distraught as the woman grew every closer to her undesirable burrow. If she could disappear like mist on a sunny morning, the courtier would write the whole experience off as her own overactive imagination.
At last, Alastor of Vasiliadon had begun to settle into the new life ahead of him. Looking for work within the city rather than in any of the provinces had proven... simpler than expected. It seemed that the Master Informer had a need for an intuitive mind. Alastor figured it was his youth that made him desirable. Intelligence was one thing, but he figured that this man with all of the secrets in the world wanted a stooge, a puppet capable of the sort of word play and logical meanderings that befitted his position without the experience or expressed opinions that came with those older and more established souls.
To Alastor, the pairing seemed... fine at best. The Master Informer did not strike him as a man with all of his apples in one basket. Where Alastor was kept close and was pressed to transcribe notes of information as duplicates, he retained everything he wrote down. It was a marvel that he was exposed to the sort of happenings about, and more than once he was struck by just how far down the shitter Taengea had gone in his absence. Two kings dead, one exiled, and one left standing at the end of it all, sent out of his home for a war over some arbitrary territorial dispute? None of it made sense to Alastor, in the sense that wars being fought while the monarchy was in such a state.
But, such was life, and such was his place to merely accept and keep his trap shut, to record what was given to him and to provide no opinions on the matter. Alastor learned quickly enough that it was neither asked for nor accepted, and instead, he took to the analysis that was figuring out what made the man tick. His new mentor seemed a duplicitious sort, a benefit to his profession and with the fact that everything else in Alastor's life was gone down the drain... he threw himself into his work. Sara was never far from his thoughts, but in the midst of her illegitimate father's death and her subsequent ousting from the archontiko, he really couldn't determine what the fate of their ill-timed romantic expression was.
It was better, sometimes... not to feel.
Or, at least, not to feel in overly obvious ways. He was trying to guard his heart, to wear a shield over his feelings and present a face to the world that was otherwise infallible. To be trusted with the position he was in implied a need for uncompromising calm, and maybe he wasn't there just yet, but at the same time, he wasn't going to fail on the account of confusion. He hardened himself and stood proudly, or as proudly as he could in the humble position he found himself in. Somewhere between a scribe and a student, he harkened back to his time in Athenia, but felt a burden on his shoulders that necessitated service to a cause that was greater.
Just months ago, he'd been a library scribe, drinking in knowledge and tutors at the expense of his parents, subsidizing his living costs by writing and writing. Hundreds of pages were done quickly enough, the word efficient and without need for reference once the material was looked at just once or twice. It was a powerful asset, his memory, and he wasn't going to waste his life hiding it or pretending that it wasn't. As he considered the life he was moving towards and the hope for a greater purpose, he found himself wandering. As he often did. The pathways across Vasiliadon were innately familiar to him. He'd walked them in his youth and as the need for secrecy and stealth grew with his new position...
They'd become more and more necessary to learn. Alastor found himself on one such back route, weaving his way to the most efficient path between the office of the Master Informer and his own home in the outer levels. The smoke from his father's smithy might've been visible if he weren't stuck between two buildings and a maze of crates that somewhat, but not fully, muffled the shifting of movement. A scattered, but logical mind, the young protege was quite aware of something trying to hide, and shifted his weight until he found the prone and almost cowering figure of a young girl. Her features weren't, in the moment, identifiable, not that the sort of clothing she wore would make it likely that she was anyone of import.
But, Alastor didn't care about any of that. While the lingering sort of apprehension of meeting strangers and involving himself in unnecessary matters clung to his thoughts, his body moved on its own. Alastor crouched down in front of the girl, reaching into the sack at his side to retrieve a rag, dabbing it with liquid from his waterskin before gingerly unfurling the young woman's hand and placing the damp fabric there. In this position, her features became more apparent, and there seemed a dawning dread upon her countenance that the young man couldn't place. But, it was none of his business. There were footsteps drawing closer, but the girl's figure was cloaked by the young man's crouched form.
The figure passed the alley by, surely disgusted by the sort of refuse in this alley and the sight of some boy dressed in a commoner's garb. His chiton, after all, was of average make, with a bone fibulae that served to disguise his real nature. It was a learned thing, to walk about in the garb of a servant, though if the girl in front of him looked to his wrist she'd see the silver trapping, a bracelet handed down to him by his mother. A matching set, given to his elder brother as well, it was one of the only things that marked Alastor coming from anything but poverty.
"Were you being followed?" he whispered to the girl, drawing nearer to her still. People tended to have reservations about approaching anything that seemed close proximity, mistaken easily for romantic gestures. He'd learned it easily enough from his mentor, who often had servant wenches accompany him for the sake of that very sort of facade.
"I can stay around, if you'd like. Ensure that you're not bothered until it's safe for you to leave."
It was difficult for Alastor to not pity this girl, all dirtied by the day and cowering in some gods-forsaken corner of the city. Of course... he hadn't properly put two and two together just yet, since her face wasn't quite as exposed to the sunlight as would need be to reveal her identity.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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At last, Alastor of Vasiliadon had begun to settle into the new life ahead of him. Looking for work within the city rather than in any of the provinces had proven... simpler than expected. It seemed that the Master Informer had a need for an intuitive mind. Alastor figured it was his youth that made him desirable. Intelligence was one thing, but he figured that this man with all of the secrets in the world wanted a stooge, a puppet capable of the sort of word play and logical meanderings that befitted his position without the experience or expressed opinions that came with those older and more established souls.
To Alastor, the pairing seemed... fine at best. The Master Informer did not strike him as a man with all of his apples in one basket. Where Alastor was kept close and was pressed to transcribe notes of information as duplicates, he retained everything he wrote down. It was a marvel that he was exposed to the sort of happenings about, and more than once he was struck by just how far down the shitter Taengea had gone in his absence. Two kings dead, one exiled, and one left standing at the end of it all, sent out of his home for a war over some arbitrary territorial dispute? None of it made sense to Alastor, in the sense that wars being fought while the monarchy was in such a state.
But, such was life, and such was his place to merely accept and keep his trap shut, to record what was given to him and to provide no opinions on the matter. Alastor learned quickly enough that it was neither asked for nor accepted, and instead, he took to the analysis that was figuring out what made the man tick. His new mentor seemed a duplicitious sort, a benefit to his profession and with the fact that everything else in Alastor's life was gone down the drain... he threw himself into his work. Sara was never far from his thoughts, but in the midst of her illegitimate father's death and her subsequent ousting from the archontiko, he really couldn't determine what the fate of their ill-timed romantic expression was.
It was better, sometimes... not to feel.
Or, at least, not to feel in overly obvious ways. He was trying to guard his heart, to wear a shield over his feelings and present a face to the world that was otherwise infallible. To be trusted with the position he was in implied a need for uncompromising calm, and maybe he wasn't there just yet, but at the same time, he wasn't going to fail on the account of confusion. He hardened himself and stood proudly, or as proudly as he could in the humble position he found himself in. Somewhere between a scribe and a student, he harkened back to his time in Athenia, but felt a burden on his shoulders that necessitated service to a cause that was greater.
Just months ago, he'd been a library scribe, drinking in knowledge and tutors at the expense of his parents, subsidizing his living costs by writing and writing. Hundreds of pages were done quickly enough, the word efficient and without need for reference once the material was looked at just once or twice. It was a powerful asset, his memory, and he wasn't going to waste his life hiding it or pretending that it wasn't. As he considered the life he was moving towards and the hope for a greater purpose, he found himself wandering. As he often did. The pathways across Vasiliadon were innately familiar to him. He'd walked them in his youth and as the need for secrecy and stealth grew with his new position...
They'd become more and more necessary to learn. Alastor found himself on one such back route, weaving his way to the most efficient path between the office of the Master Informer and his own home in the outer levels. The smoke from his father's smithy might've been visible if he weren't stuck between two buildings and a maze of crates that somewhat, but not fully, muffled the shifting of movement. A scattered, but logical mind, the young protege was quite aware of something trying to hide, and shifted his weight until he found the prone and almost cowering figure of a young girl. Her features weren't, in the moment, identifiable, not that the sort of clothing she wore would make it likely that she was anyone of import.
But, Alastor didn't care about any of that. While the lingering sort of apprehension of meeting strangers and involving himself in unnecessary matters clung to his thoughts, his body moved on its own. Alastor crouched down in front of the girl, reaching into the sack at his side to retrieve a rag, dabbing it with liquid from his waterskin before gingerly unfurling the young woman's hand and placing the damp fabric there. In this position, her features became more apparent, and there seemed a dawning dread upon her countenance that the young man couldn't place. But, it was none of his business. There were footsteps drawing closer, but the girl's figure was cloaked by the young man's crouched form.
The figure passed the alley by, surely disgusted by the sort of refuse in this alley and the sight of some boy dressed in a commoner's garb. His chiton, after all, was of average make, with a bone fibulae that served to disguise his real nature. It was a learned thing, to walk about in the garb of a servant, though if the girl in front of him looked to his wrist she'd see the silver trapping, a bracelet handed down to him by his mother. A matching set, given to his elder brother as well, it was one of the only things that marked Alastor coming from anything but poverty.
"Were you being followed?" he whispered to the girl, drawing nearer to her still. People tended to have reservations about approaching anything that seemed close proximity, mistaken easily for romantic gestures. He'd learned it easily enough from his mentor, who often had servant wenches accompany him for the sake of that very sort of facade.
"I can stay around, if you'd like. Ensure that you're not bothered until it's safe for you to leave."
It was difficult for Alastor to not pity this girl, all dirtied by the day and cowering in some gods-forsaken corner of the city. Of course... he hadn't properly put two and two together just yet, since her face wasn't quite as exposed to the sunlight as would need be to reveal her identity.
At last, Alastor of Vasiliadon had begun to settle into the new life ahead of him. Looking for work within the city rather than in any of the provinces had proven... simpler than expected. It seemed that the Master Informer had a need for an intuitive mind. Alastor figured it was his youth that made him desirable. Intelligence was one thing, but he figured that this man with all of the secrets in the world wanted a stooge, a puppet capable of the sort of word play and logical meanderings that befitted his position without the experience or expressed opinions that came with those older and more established souls.
To Alastor, the pairing seemed... fine at best. The Master Informer did not strike him as a man with all of his apples in one basket. Where Alastor was kept close and was pressed to transcribe notes of information as duplicates, he retained everything he wrote down. It was a marvel that he was exposed to the sort of happenings about, and more than once he was struck by just how far down the shitter Taengea had gone in his absence. Two kings dead, one exiled, and one left standing at the end of it all, sent out of his home for a war over some arbitrary territorial dispute? None of it made sense to Alastor, in the sense that wars being fought while the monarchy was in such a state.
But, such was life, and such was his place to merely accept and keep his trap shut, to record what was given to him and to provide no opinions on the matter. Alastor learned quickly enough that it was neither asked for nor accepted, and instead, he took to the analysis that was figuring out what made the man tick. His new mentor seemed a duplicitious sort, a benefit to his profession and with the fact that everything else in Alastor's life was gone down the drain... he threw himself into his work. Sara was never far from his thoughts, but in the midst of her illegitimate father's death and her subsequent ousting from the archontiko, he really couldn't determine what the fate of their ill-timed romantic expression was.
It was better, sometimes... not to feel.
Or, at least, not to feel in overly obvious ways. He was trying to guard his heart, to wear a shield over his feelings and present a face to the world that was otherwise infallible. To be trusted with the position he was in implied a need for uncompromising calm, and maybe he wasn't there just yet, but at the same time, he wasn't going to fail on the account of confusion. He hardened himself and stood proudly, or as proudly as he could in the humble position he found himself in. Somewhere between a scribe and a student, he harkened back to his time in Athenia, but felt a burden on his shoulders that necessitated service to a cause that was greater.
Just months ago, he'd been a library scribe, drinking in knowledge and tutors at the expense of his parents, subsidizing his living costs by writing and writing. Hundreds of pages were done quickly enough, the word efficient and without need for reference once the material was looked at just once or twice. It was a powerful asset, his memory, and he wasn't going to waste his life hiding it or pretending that it wasn't. As he considered the life he was moving towards and the hope for a greater purpose, he found himself wandering. As he often did. The pathways across Vasiliadon were innately familiar to him. He'd walked them in his youth and as the need for secrecy and stealth grew with his new position...
They'd become more and more necessary to learn. Alastor found himself on one such back route, weaving his way to the most efficient path between the office of the Master Informer and his own home in the outer levels. The smoke from his father's smithy might've been visible if he weren't stuck between two buildings and a maze of crates that somewhat, but not fully, muffled the shifting of movement. A scattered, but logical mind, the young protege was quite aware of something trying to hide, and shifted his weight until he found the prone and almost cowering figure of a young girl. Her features weren't, in the moment, identifiable, not that the sort of clothing she wore would make it likely that she was anyone of import.
But, Alastor didn't care about any of that. While the lingering sort of apprehension of meeting strangers and involving himself in unnecessary matters clung to his thoughts, his body moved on its own. Alastor crouched down in front of the girl, reaching into the sack at his side to retrieve a rag, dabbing it with liquid from his waterskin before gingerly unfurling the young woman's hand and placing the damp fabric there. In this position, her features became more apparent, and there seemed a dawning dread upon her countenance that the young man couldn't place. But, it was none of his business. There were footsteps drawing closer, but the girl's figure was cloaked by the young man's crouched form.
The figure passed the alley by, surely disgusted by the sort of refuse in this alley and the sight of some boy dressed in a commoner's garb. His chiton, after all, was of average make, with a bone fibulae that served to disguise his real nature. It was a learned thing, to walk about in the garb of a servant, though if the girl in front of him looked to his wrist she'd see the silver trapping, a bracelet handed down to him by his mother. A matching set, given to his elder brother as well, it was one of the only things that marked Alastor coming from anything but poverty.
"Were you being followed?" he whispered to the girl, drawing nearer to her still. People tended to have reservations about approaching anything that seemed close proximity, mistaken easily for romantic gestures. He'd learned it easily enough from his mentor, who often had servant wenches accompany him for the sake of that very sort of facade.
"I can stay around, if you'd like. Ensure that you're not bothered until it's safe for you to leave."
It was difficult for Alastor to not pity this girl, all dirtied by the day and cowering in some gods-forsaken corner of the city. Of course... he hadn't properly put two and two together just yet, since her face wasn't quite as exposed to the sunlight as would need be to reveal her identity.
Dafni was so lost in fright she never saw the boy approach. A shriek, muffled at the last moment by her own hands, erupted from her delicate throat at his sudden appearance. He was a commoner boy with a simple chiton and fibulae, the only accents of any mention being the silver bracelet that adorned once pale bony wrist. Though, it was barely noted in Dafni’s current state of vulnerability. Most of her meager observational skills still focused on the street.
Simple straight brown hair fell over the boys striking blue eyes to frame his long face, and Dafni stared right back into them with gemstone irises of her own. Only muffled exclamations and half formed syllables escaped between her manicured fingers as she attempted to talk. Her hands still silencing her wayward mouth in a desperate grip. Suddenly, realizing the jumbled nonsense that was escaping her smooshed lips, Dafni loosened her grip and lowered her flesh and blood muzzle.
This boy was asking her questions. His face was non threatening. Position intimately close yet still aloof. In fact, he seemed to be offering aid. His words were soft spoken and containing a message of help. His body backing this up with the almost conspiratorial way it blocked her from view.
“Y-yes, um no, uh I uh sorta… I need to get back to the Public Loutra. Quickly. Help me!” Dafni whisper-yelled. Her nerves were all frazzled and she could not seem to come up with a coherent answer to his very simple questions. She was being followed yes, but also not really; the lady had not gotten confirmation on her identity - she hoped at least. It was really just a curious busy body courtier following a ghost in the crowd, and Dafni intended to remain corporeal in the woman's mind. As for staying behind the crates that was no longer an option. She could not wait around forever until she knew it was safe. If she waited to long her servant would discover the deception and then her father, of all people, would be informed. This boy though, this m=boy may be the solution. He had been traversing the back alleyways when he had come upon her or else she would have seen him enter the alleyway. He had to be familiar with the back routes through the city. If he could help her navigate the, she could end this travesty of a day without anyone the wiser.
Dafni was not so self absorbed as not to realize she needed help. Plus he had already offered help, so really, he must follow through. Even if his offer was of a different sort than what she required, the offer in and of itself meant he should have to adapt and make himself useful to the more specific aid she needed. She was a Leventi after all it was his duty as a person of plebeian breeding to be of service to her.
Then again, no one was supposed to know her true identity... She could not demand his obedience in this instance. Goddammit. After a pause that involved more brain power than a truly decent person would require, Dafni came up with a plan.
“Please. Please help me get back to the Public Loutra. I seem to have lost my way and I need to use these back allies. I ran into someone who means me harm and I do not wish to chance them recognizing me if I travel though the main thoroughfare again. Will you assist me, good sir?” Dafni used all the right words. Her story that of an innocent maiden in need of a gentleman's help. But something still rang untrue, some part of her expression, falling short of the expected. Her voice, not as warm and genuine as she meant it to be. Oh, there was desperation there of course. But the poor pitiful me routine projected with a notable transparency that let the raging anger inside show. The catty spoiled anger that wanted to break through and stomp its foot at the unfairness of the situation.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Dafni was so lost in fright she never saw the boy approach. A shriek, muffled at the last moment by her own hands, erupted from her delicate throat at his sudden appearance. He was a commoner boy with a simple chiton and fibulae, the only accents of any mention being the silver bracelet that adorned once pale bony wrist. Though, it was barely noted in Dafni’s current state of vulnerability. Most of her meager observational skills still focused on the street.
Simple straight brown hair fell over the boys striking blue eyes to frame his long face, and Dafni stared right back into them with gemstone irises of her own. Only muffled exclamations and half formed syllables escaped between her manicured fingers as she attempted to talk. Her hands still silencing her wayward mouth in a desperate grip. Suddenly, realizing the jumbled nonsense that was escaping her smooshed lips, Dafni loosened her grip and lowered her flesh and blood muzzle.
This boy was asking her questions. His face was non threatening. Position intimately close yet still aloof. In fact, he seemed to be offering aid. His words were soft spoken and containing a message of help. His body backing this up with the almost conspiratorial way it blocked her from view.
“Y-yes, um no, uh I uh sorta… I need to get back to the Public Loutra. Quickly. Help me!” Dafni whisper-yelled. Her nerves were all frazzled and she could not seem to come up with a coherent answer to his very simple questions. She was being followed yes, but also not really; the lady had not gotten confirmation on her identity - she hoped at least. It was really just a curious busy body courtier following a ghost in the crowd, and Dafni intended to remain corporeal in the woman's mind. As for staying behind the crates that was no longer an option. She could not wait around forever until she knew it was safe. If she waited to long her servant would discover the deception and then her father, of all people, would be informed. This boy though, this m=boy may be the solution. He had been traversing the back alleyways when he had come upon her or else she would have seen him enter the alleyway. He had to be familiar with the back routes through the city. If he could help her navigate the, she could end this travesty of a day without anyone the wiser.
Dafni was not so self absorbed as not to realize she needed help. Plus he had already offered help, so really, he must follow through. Even if his offer was of a different sort than what she required, the offer in and of itself meant he should have to adapt and make himself useful to the more specific aid she needed. She was a Leventi after all it was his duty as a person of plebeian breeding to be of service to her.
Then again, no one was supposed to know her true identity... She could not demand his obedience in this instance. Goddammit. After a pause that involved more brain power than a truly decent person would require, Dafni came up with a plan.
“Please. Please help me get back to the Public Loutra. I seem to have lost my way and I need to use these back allies. I ran into someone who means me harm and I do not wish to chance them recognizing me if I travel though the main thoroughfare again. Will you assist me, good sir?” Dafni used all the right words. Her story that of an innocent maiden in need of a gentleman's help. But something still rang untrue, some part of her expression, falling short of the expected. Her voice, not as warm and genuine as she meant it to be. Oh, there was desperation there of course. But the poor pitiful me routine projected with a notable transparency that let the raging anger inside show. The catty spoiled anger that wanted to break through and stomp its foot at the unfairness of the situation.
Dafni was so lost in fright she never saw the boy approach. A shriek, muffled at the last moment by her own hands, erupted from her delicate throat at his sudden appearance. He was a commoner boy with a simple chiton and fibulae, the only accents of any mention being the silver bracelet that adorned once pale bony wrist. Though, it was barely noted in Dafni’s current state of vulnerability. Most of her meager observational skills still focused on the street.
Simple straight brown hair fell over the boys striking blue eyes to frame his long face, and Dafni stared right back into them with gemstone irises of her own. Only muffled exclamations and half formed syllables escaped between her manicured fingers as she attempted to talk. Her hands still silencing her wayward mouth in a desperate grip. Suddenly, realizing the jumbled nonsense that was escaping her smooshed lips, Dafni loosened her grip and lowered her flesh and blood muzzle.
This boy was asking her questions. His face was non threatening. Position intimately close yet still aloof. In fact, he seemed to be offering aid. His words were soft spoken and containing a message of help. His body backing this up with the almost conspiratorial way it blocked her from view.
“Y-yes, um no, uh I uh sorta… I need to get back to the Public Loutra. Quickly. Help me!” Dafni whisper-yelled. Her nerves were all frazzled and she could not seem to come up with a coherent answer to his very simple questions. She was being followed yes, but also not really; the lady had not gotten confirmation on her identity - she hoped at least. It was really just a curious busy body courtier following a ghost in the crowd, and Dafni intended to remain corporeal in the woman's mind. As for staying behind the crates that was no longer an option. She could not wait around forever until she knew it was safe. If she waited to long her servant would discover the deception and then her father, of all people, would be informed. This boy though, this m=boy may be the solution. He had been traversing the back alleyways when he had come upon her or else she would have seen him enter the alleyway. He had to be familiar with the back routes through the city. If he could help her navigate the, she could end this travesty of a day without anyone the wiser.
Dafni was not so self absorbed as not to realize she needed help. Plus he had already offered help, so really, he must follow through. Even if his offer was of a different sort than what she required, the offer in and of itself meant he should have to adapt and make himself useful to the more specific aid she needed. She was a Leventi after all it was his duty as a person of plebeian breeding to be of service to her.
Then again, no one was supposed to know her true identity... She could not demand his obedience in this instance. Goddammit. After a pause that involved more brain power than a truly decent person would require, Dafni came up with a plan.
“Please. Please help me get back to the Public Loutra. I seem to have lost my way and I need to use these back allies. I ran into someone who means me harm and I do not wish to chance them recognizing me if I travel though the main thoroughfare again. Will you assist me, good sir?” Dafni used all the right words. Her story that of an innocent maiden in need of a gentleman's help. But something still rang untrue, some part of her expression, falling short of the expected. Her voice, not as warm and genuine as she meant it to be. Oh, there was desperation there of course. But the poor pitiful me routine projected with a notable transparency that let the raging anger inside show. The catty spoiled anger that wanted to break through and stomp its foot at the unfairness of the situation.
What exactly did Alastor get himself into? The girl in front of him seemed in distress, which suited Alastor just fine. He preferred to have some sort of reason in the midst of his association with people. It extracted the awkward pitfalls of chatter and diverted all of the attention towards something with, hopefully, a logical solution. Putting the young scholar's brain on a task was infinitely easier than trying to meander the incomprehensible weave of hellos and good days that slowly turned to greater and greater obstacles in trying to find words that didn't turn to ash in his mouth.
The boy's eyes widened immediately at the notion of being asked to take the stranger to the bath houses. Immediately, his mind drew him to the connotation, Alastor frowning in spite of his desire to help.
Wha...?
The fact that Dafni was rather pretty only served to drive the thought into his mind and further inflame the threat of growing flustered. He took a breath as she went on, elaborating upon her reasons and he was glad to have a sense of innocence return in the emergency. Her story seemed... off. In a lot of ways. First, in her distress she immediately had the words to say. By itself, the peculiarity of it all might've been fine, overlooked in the element of danger that her desperation meant to imply. But, the more she spoke the more it became apparent. This seemed... orchestrated. Desperation it was, but laced in a wrongness that could only really point to one thing.
Deceit.
Surely, there were enough reasons to subvert the truth, to come with half-truths in a moment of emergency. But this seemed... rehearsed. Not the words themselves, but the tone, the offness in it speaking to the girl's youth.
Or was Alastor just reading into it? Was he thinking too much of a moment's intuition? Did it even matter? She looked to be in need of something, and the small task she asked of him was in no way any sort of real inconvenience. He'd finished his work for the day, always quite efficient in that, and the rest of his time was dedicated to re-familiarizing himself with Vasiliadon. A faraway thought drove itself into his mind, the idea of time unspent, a flicker of a girl's face at the back of his mind. A different one, with a different voice, far more genuine than this girl's. But... in the end, the thought was just that. A distraction, already serving to undo him.
"The loutra? Of course I could," was the obvious answer.
Alastor did not offer a smile, or his arm to the girl, his thoughts already shifting to the way she was hiding herself, to her request to remain in the periphery. Alastor himself never sought the limelight, and it was easy enough to formulate alternate paths when the lay of the land was so firmly engrained into his memory.
"This way," he let out in a whisper, pulling at her wrist before letting her go. They'd turn a corner and be on their way, the boy walking slow enough for her not to struggle in following.
"Who are you hiding from?" he asked, letting his gaze hover over her in a more prominent light. She looked so familiar... By her looks... Her skin seemed exceptionally smooth, and while she wasn't dressed in a way that identified her as someone of significance... Clothes were just that.
"And who are you? My name's Alastor."
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What exactly did Alastor get himself into? The girl in front of him seemed in distress, which suited Alastor just fine. He preferred to have some sort of reason in the midst of his association with people. It extracted the awkward pitfalls of chatter and diverted all of the attention towards something with, hopefully, a logical solution. Putting the young scholar's brain on a task was infinitely easier than trying to meander the incomprehensible weave of hellos and good days that slowly turned to greater and greater obstacles in trying to find words that didn't turn to ash in his mouth.
The boy's eyes widened immediately at the notion of being asked to take the stranger to the bath houses. Immediately, his mind drew him to the connotation, Alastor frowning in spite of his desire to help.
Wha...?
The fact that Dafni was rather pretty only served to drive the thought into his mind and further inflame the threat of growing flustered. He took a breath as she went on, elaborating upon her reasons and he was glad to have a sense of innocence return in the emergency. Her story seemed... off. In a lot of ways. First, in her distress she immediately had the words to say. By itself, the peculiarity of it all might've been fine, overlooked in the element of danger that her desperation meant to imply. But, the more she spoke the more it became apparent. This seemed... orchestrated. Desperation it was, but laced in a wrongness that could only really point to one thing.
Deceit.
Surely, there were enough reasons to subvert the truth, to come with half-truths in a moment of emergency. But this seemed... rehearsed. Not the words themselves, but the tone, the offness in it speaking to the girl's youth.
Or was Alastor just reading into it? Was he thinking too much of a moment's intuition? Did it even matter? She looked to be in need of something, and the small task she asked of him was in no way any sort of real inconvenience. He'd finished his work for the day, always quite efficient in that, and the rest of his time was dedicated to re-familiarizing himself with Vasiliadon. A faraway thought drove itself into his mind, the idea of time unspent, a flicker of a girl's face at the back of his mind. A different one, with a different voice, far more genuine than this girl's. But... in the end, the thought was just that. A distraction, already serving to undo him.
"The loutra? Of course I could," was the obvious answer.
Alastor did not offer a smile, or his arm to the girl, his thoughts already shifting to the way she was hiding herself, to her request to remain in the periphery. Alastor himself never sought the limelight, and it was easy enough to formulate alternate paths when the lay of the land was so firmly engrained into his memory.
"This way," he let out in a whisper, pulling at her wrist before letting her go. They'd turn a corner and be on their way, the boy walking slow enough for her not to struggle in following.
"Who are you hiding from?" he asked, letting his gaze hover over her in a more prominent light. She looked so familiar... By her looks... Her skin seemed exceptionally smooth, and while she wasn't dressed in a way that identified her as someone of significance... Clothes were just that.
"And who are you? My name's Alastor."
What exactly did Alastor get himself into? The girl in front of him seemed in distress, which suited Alastor just fine. He preferred to have some sort of reason in the midst of his association with people. It extracted the awkward pitfalls of chatter and diverted all of the attention towards something with, hopefully, a logical solution. Putting the young scholar's brain on a task was infinitely easier than trying to meander the incomprehensible weave of hellos and good days that slowly turned to greater and greater obstacles in trying to find words that didn't turn to ash in his mouth.
The boy's eyes widened immediately at the notion of being asked to take the stranger to the bath houses. Immediately, his mind drew him to the connotation, Alastor frowning in spite of his desire to help.
Wha...?
The fact that Dafni was rather pretty only served to drive the thought into his mind and further inflame the threat of growing flustered. He took a breath as she went on, elaborating upon her reasons and he was glad to have a sense of innocence return in the emergency. Her story seemed... off. In a lot of ways. First, in her distress she immediately had the words to say. By itself, the peculiarity of it all might've been fine, overlooked in the element of danger that her desperation meant to imply. But, the more she spoke the more it became apparent. This seemed... orchestrated. Desperation it was, but laced in a wrongness that could only really point to one thing.
Deceit.
Surely, there were enough reasons to subvert the truth, to come with half-truths in a moment of emergency. But this seemed... rehearsed. Not the words themselves, but the tone, the offness in it speaking to the girl's youth.
Or was Alastor just reading into it? Was he thinking too much of a moment's intuition? Did it even matter? She looked to be in need of something, and the small task she asked of him was in no way any sort of real inconvenience. He'd finished his work for the day, always quite efficient in that, and the rest of his time was dedicated to re-familiarizing himself with Vasiliadon. A faraway thought drove itself into his mind, the idea of time unspent, a flicker of a girl's face at the back of his mind. A different one, with a different voice, far more genuine than this girl's. But... in the end, the thought was just that. A distraction, already serving to undo him.
"The loutra? Of course I could," was the obvious answer.
Alastor did not offer a smile, or his arm to the girl, his thoughts already shifting to the way she was hiding herself, to her request to remain in the periphery. Alastor himself never sought the limelight, and it was easy enough to formulate alternate paths when the lay of the land was so firmly engrained into his memory.
"This way," he let out in a whisper, pulling at her wrist before letting her go. They'd turn a corner and be on their way, the boy walking slow enough for her not to struggle in following.
"Who are you hiding from?" he asked, letting his gaze hover over her in a more prominent light. She looked so familiar... By her looks... Her skin seemed exceptionally smooth, and while she wasn't dressed in a way that identified her as someone of significance... Clothes were just that.
"And who are you? My name's Alastor."
He grasped her wrist in his hand and pulled. The action, though simple and innocent, was jarring to the pampered Dafni. Never before had a commoner just reached out and touched her like that, let alone a male one. The shock of it made her hesitate as he drew her from her hiding place and into the labyrinth of Vasiliadon’s back alleys. She twisted her lips in disapproval but dared not say a word. She was supposed to be of humble origins, women like that cared little if a stranger of their class molested their skin with their dirt fingers. Dafni would never understand commoners and luckily she would never need too. Scurrying along behind the boy she looked side to side to make sure no one had seen her leave, and not a soul was in sight. It was just her and the boy who was going to save her well formed ass from being caught by her mouthy servants. This whole endeavor would have been much simpler if she could trust the guards and maids that accompanied her on her outings to keep their traps shut, but that was a pipe dream. Dafni would not be surprised if her father paid them to report about her going-ons since he always seemed to know when she did something even slightly unbecoming.
As they entered a new alley the boy spoke again. Looking up Dafni blinked in shock, she had not realized just how tall he was. But standing next to him she finally registered the fact he was a good head or two taller than herself. It was a stupid realization to come to after being in his presence a few minutes now, but her brain was flighty and nervous about getting back to the Loutra, and it missed and latched onto random things in a mess of unnecessary complication. Who was she hiding from? ...who was she hiding from…
“Oh, uuuuuh an old acquaintance. We did not leave off on the best of terms..” she murmured while obviously thinking through her answer, and grimacing at her terrible lie. Hopefully the boy would think the unpleasant expression due to the ‘circumstances’ at which she left her fictional relationship with her would be pursuer and not discern its true origin.
Now this next question was a bit trickier and Dafni flushed with anxiety ridden embarrassment. She had not anticipated this question, and in all seriousness, was fed up with all the inquiries the boy was making. What were they a couple courting each other? Why did he need to know so many things, the nosy commoner, not that she was surprised. His kind were known for such trivial nonsense. At least in high society the gossip had more substance and could change the fate of the entire country if applied the right way.
“Uh my name is, uh, Zoe” Dafni stuttered out while she tried to wrack her brain for the most common low born name she could think of. “How far are we from the Loutra, how long is this going to take?” The impatient courtier asked in an attempt to change the subject and get him focused back on his task and less on her. She knew she was a bewitching sight and all, but really, could he not simply focus on the objective she had given to him?
She was looking around again as the boy gave her his own name and the information slipped in one ear and right out the other a moment later. She simply smiled and nodded in a faux attempt at the common niceties of two strangers making each other’s acquaintance for the first time. She was sure she would never see this boy again after today nor have any need to seek him out, so his name was of little consequence, only the service he was providing for her at this very moment.
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He grasped her wrist in his hand and pulled. The action, though simple and innocent, was jarring to the pampered Dafni. Never before had a commoner just reached out and touched her like that, let alone a male one. The shock of it made her hesitate as he drew her from her hiding place and into the labyrinth of Vasiliadon’s back alleys. She twisted her lips in disapproval but dared not say a word. She was supposed to be of humble origins, women like that cared little if a stranger of their class molested their skin with their dirt fingers. Dafni would never understand commoners and luckily she would never need too. Scurrying along behind the boy she looked side to side to make sure no one had seen her leave, and not a soul was in sight. It was just her and the boy who was going to save her well formed ass from being caught by her mouthy servants. This whole endeavor would have been much simpler if she could trust the guards and maids that accompanied her on her outings to keep their traps shut, but that was a pipe dream. Dafni would not be surprised if her father paid them to report about her going-ons since he always seemed to know when she did something even slightly unbecoming.
As they entered a new alley the boy spoke again. Looking up Dafni blinked in shock, she had not realized just how tall he was. But standing next to him she finally registered the fact he was a good head or two taller than herself. It was a stupid realization to come to after being in his presence a few minutes now, but her brain was flighty and nervous about getting back to the Loutra, and it missed and latched onto random things in a mess of unnecessary complication. Who was she hiding from? ...who was she hiding from…
“Oh, uuuuuh an old acquaintance. We did not leave off on the best of terms..” she murmured while obviously thinking through her answer, and grimacing at her terrible lie. Hopefully the boy would think the unpleasant expression due to the ‘circumstances’ at which she left her fictional relationship with her would be pursuer and not discern its true origin.
Now this next question was a bit trickier and Dafni flushed with anxiety ridden embarrassment. She had not anticipated this question, and in all seriousness, was fed up with all the inquiries the boy was making. What were they a couple courting each other? Why did he need to know so many things, the nosy commoner, not that she was surprised. His kind were known for such trivial nonsense. At least in high society the gossip had more substance and could change the fate of the entire country if applied the right way.
“Uh my name is, uh, Zoe” Dafni stuttered out while she tried to wrack her brain for the most common low born name she could think of. “How far are we from the Loutra, how long is this going to take?” The impatient courtier asked in an attempt to change the subject and get him focused back on his task and less on her. She knew she was a bewitching sight and all, but really, could he not simply focus on the objective she had given to him?
She was looking around again as the boy gave her his own name and the information slipped in one ear and right out the other a moment later. She simply smiled and nodded in a faux attempt at the common niceties of two strangers making each other’s acquaintance for the first time. She was sure she would never see this boy again after today nor have any need to seek him out, so his name was of little consequence, only the service he was providing for her at this very moment.
He grasped her wrist in his hand and pulled. The action, though simple and innocent, was jarring to the pampered Dafni. Never before had a commoner just reached out and touched her like that, let alone a male one. The shock of it made her hesitate as he drew her from her hiding place and into the labyrinth of Vasiliadon’s back alleys. She twisted her lips in disapproval but dared not say a word. She was supposed to be of humble origins, women like that cared little if a stranger of their class molested their skin with their dirt fingers. Dafni would never understand commoners and luckily she would never need too. Scurrying along behind the boy she looked side to side to make sure no one had seen her leave, and not a soul was in sight. It was just her and the boy who was going to save her well formed ass from being caught by her mouthy servants. This whole endeavor would have been much simpler if she could trust the guards and maids that accompanied her on her outings to keep their traps shut, but that was a pipe dream. Dafni would not be surprised if her father paid them to report about her going-ons since he always seemed to know when she did something even slightly unbecoming.
As they entered a new alley the boy spoke again. Looking up Dafni blinked in shock, she had not realized just how tall he was. But standing next to him she finally registered the fact he was a good head or two taller than herself. It was a stupid realization to come to after being in his presence a few minutes now, but her brain was flighty and nervous about getting back to the Loutra, and it missed and latched onto random things in a mess of unnecessary complication. Who was she hiding from? ...who was she hiding from…
“Oh, uuuuuh an old acquaintance. We did not leave off on the best of terms..” she murmured while obviously thinking through her answer, and grimacing at her terrible lie. Hopefully the boy would think the unpleasant expression due to the ‘circumstances’ at which she left her fictional relationship with her would be pursuer and not discern its true origin.
Now this next question was a bit trickier and Dafni flushed with anxiety ridden embarrassment. She had not anticipated this question, and in all seriousness, was fed up with all the inquiries the boy was making. What were they a couple courting each other? Why did he need to know so many things, the nosy commoner, not that she was surprised. His kind were known for such trivial nonsense. At least in high society the gossip had more substance and could change the fate of the entire country if applied the right way.
“Uh my name is, uh, Zoe” Dafni stuttered out while she tried to wrack her brain for the most common low born name she could think of. “How far are we from the Loutra, how long is this going to take?” The impatient courtier asked in an attempt to change the subject and get him focused back on his task and less on her. She knew she was a bewitching sight and all, but really, could he not simply focus on the objective she had given to him?
She was looking around again as the boy gave her his own name and the information slipped in one ear and right out the other a moment later. She simply smiled and nodded in a faux attempt at the common niceties of two strangers making each other’s acquaintance for the first time. She was sure she would never see this boy again after today nor have any need to seek him out, so his name was of little consequence, only the service he was providing for her at this very moment.
This was only becoming more peculiar, all the while. Did she expect him to just puppeteer at her command, to carry her whims like some thoughtless beast of burden? Of course he'd ask questions. It was only natural when someone came to you for assistance. But, the impatience about 'Zoe' (an alias, he was certain) and the growing strangeness in her story. Why should he help her, if she was being so suspicious? Alastor was not a selfish young man, but this screamed of something suspect that it might be better for him to disentangle himself from. So, he'd offer her the choice to tell the truth.
Alastor stopped just short of a pass in the alleys, shaking his head before he turned his head towards the liar. That's what she was, of course. Maybe the situation was real, and her emotions were real, but the details seemed... loose, or wrong, or she was hiding something. Her words, as they moved through his mind, did not click together to form a cohesive picture of her situation. She gave little more than platitudes, and she was safe enough now to answer him.
Maybe Alastor was too curious for his own good, but he could not escape himself. The assistant to the Master Informer was inquisitive, he craved closure, unable to step away from planning until his fragmented tasks were equally time-consuming, until they were planned out and every piece fell into place. Just as the artist couldn't step away from a painting mid-layer, so too was Alastor compelled to understand. Especially because learning came so naturally to him. The whirling thoughts within his skull insisted upon closure lest they overwhelm him.
"None of this seems right. If you're mixed up in something illegal and using me as an unwitting accomplice... I should just let this alone," he said, pressing his back into the nearby wall as he raised a hand to his skull, kneading his temple as a headache threatened to catch him. He wasn't overthinking this, certainly his intuition was right on this front. This girl was too clean for her presumed station. She was too neat, too quick to push things along. Distress or not, everything was out of place.
"Are you even in danger?" he asked next, rolling his eyes at the idea that he'd been fooled by a pretty face. It might not've been the first time, nor the last. Alastor of Vasiliadon wanted to see the best in people, and was always left disappointed.
"Is your name even Zoe? You can either tell me the truth, or I can head home. I bet you can't figure out where you even are."
Was it a threat? Not quite, but Alastor was tired of being trolled. People liked to mess with him, and the chances that this girl's lies were some childish plot to embarrass him wasn't outside of the realm of comprehension.
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This was only becoming more peculiar, all the while. Did she expect him to just puppeteer at her command, to carry her whims like some thoughtless beast of burden? Of course he'd ask questions. It was only natural when someone came to you for assistance. But, the impatience about 'Zoe' (an alias, he was certain) and the growing strangeness in her story. Why should he help her, if she was being so suspicious? Alastor was not a selfish young man, but this screamed of something suspect that it might be better for him to disentangle himself from. So, he'd offer her the choice to tell the truth.
Alastor stopped just short of a pass in the alleys, shaking his head before he turned his head towards the liar. That's what she was, of course. Maybe the situation was real, and her emotions were real, but the details seemed... loose, or wrong, or she was hiding something. Her words, as they moved through his mind, did not click together to form a cohesive picture of her situation. She gave little more than platitudes, and she was safe enough now to answer him.
Maybe Alastor was too curious for his own good, but he could not escape himself. The assistant to the Master Informer was inquisitive, he craved closure, unable to step away from planning until his fragmented tasks were equally time-consuming, until they were planned out and every piece fell into place. Just as the artist couldn't step away from a painting mid-layer, so too was Alastor compelled to understand. Especially because learning came so naturally to him. The whirling thoughts within his skull insisted upon closure lest they overwhelm him.
"None of this seems right. If you're mixed up in something illegal and using me as an unwitting accomplice... I should just let this alone," he said, pressing his back into the nearby wall as he raised a hand to his skull, kneading his temple as a headache threatened to catch him. He wasn't overthinking this, certainly his intuition was right on this front. This girl was too clean for her presumed station. She was too neat, too quick to push things along. Distress or not, everything was out of place.
"Are you even in danger?" he asked next, rolling his eyes at the idea that he'd been fooled by a pretty face. It might not've been the first time, nor the last. Alastor of Vasiliadon wanted to see the best in people, and was always left disappointed.
"Is your name even Zoe? You can either tell me the truth, or I can head home. I bet you can't figure out where you even are."
Was it a threat? Not quite, but Alastor was tired of being trolled. People liked to mess with him, and the chances that this girl's lies were some childish plot to embarrass him wasn't outside of the realm of comprehension.
This was only becoming more peculiar, all the while. Did she expect him to just puppeteer at her command, to carry her whims like some thoughtless beast of burden? Of course he'd ask questions. It was only natural when someone came to you for assistance. But, the impatience about 'Zoe' (an alias, he was certain) and the growing strangeness in her story. Why should he help her, if she was being so suspicious? Alastor was not a selfish young man, but this screamed of something suspect that it might be better for him to disentangle himself from. So, he'd offer her the choice to tell the truth.
Alastor stopped just short of a pass in the alleys, shaking his head before he turned his head towards the liar. That's what she was, of course. Maybe the situation was real, and her emotions were real, but the details seemed... loose, or wrong, or she was hiding something. Her words, as they moved through his mind, did not click together to form a cohesive picture of her situation. She gave little more than platitudes, and she was safe enough now to answer him.
Maybe Alastor was too curious for his own good, but he could not escape himself. The assistant to the Master Informer was inquisitive, he craved closure, unable to step away from planning until his fragmented tasks were equally time-consuming, until they were planned out and every piece fell into place. Just as the artist couldn't step away from a painting mid-layer, so too was Alastor compelled to understand. Especially because learning came so naturally to him. The whirling thoughts within his skull insisted upon closure lest they overwhelm him.
"None of this seems right. If you're mixed up in something illegal and using me as an unwitting accomplice... I should just let this alone," he said, pressing his back into the nearby wall as he raised a hand to his skull, kneading his temple as a headache threatened to catch him. He wasn't overthinking this, certainly his intuition was right on this front. This girl was too clean for her presumed station. She was too neat, too quick to push things along. Distress or not, everything was out of place.
"Are you even in danger?" he asked next, rolling his eyes at the idea that he'd been fooled by a pretty face. It might not've been the first time, nor the last. Alastor of Vasiliadon wanted to see the best in people, and was always left disappointed.
"Is your name even Zoe? You can either tell me the truth, or I can head home. I bet you can't figure out where you even are."
Was it a threat? Not quite, but Alastor was tired of being trolled. People liked to mess with him, and the chances that this girl's lies were some childish plot to embarrass him wasn't outside of the realm of comprehension.
Gods damn stupid foolish damned goodness darn garish frickity fracking commoner piece of stupid horse dung... stupid… human! Ugh, why could he not just be a good little plebian and take her where she desired, why did he have to be so curious and full of stupid self preservation gods damnit! Nothing ever went her way. Dafni nearly pouted with the thought; the universe always seemed to play tricks on her when she did things she was not supposed too. It was so totally unfair. Why could she not be left to her own totally valid and well thought out devices? It was the word… the problem was in no way herself. Became well, she was perfect of course! It was this stupid boys stupid fault for being smart and seeing past her ruse. Stupid! Ok, she needed to stop thinking that word, it was even irritating her, and that was saying something.
Haughtily sticking her nose in the air, Dafni twirled on the boy and crossed her arms.
“I would never.” She declared, insulted by his insinuation of illegal activity. Who did he think he was leveling such allegations as those on her. And even if she was, and she totally wasn't, she could partake in illegalities, she was a Levenit; there was no such thing as illegal when you were the daughter of a great Lord such as her father. Except of course treason, and murder, and theft, and well, other things. But that was only if you got caught, and only commoners got caught. That was what made them criminals, they were stupid
But Leventi’s, leventi’s were smart.
Secure in her own mental superiority (by the gods she was such a num-nut fraud) Dafni smirked at the boy before her. But instead of accepting her on her words and bowing to kiss her feet in submission to her whims, he kept talking. This was like an alternate dimension, and she very much disliked it. Is this what most commoners felt like all the time? Getting talked over and their words not trusted implicitly and without question? What a horrid way to live, how did they stand such toil? The desire of those below her to roll around in the dirt and converse with such lack of respect would never stop amazing her- in the worst way of course.
“Of course I am in danger!” She hissed, glaring now. But he still questioned her. The irritation welled up inside the insolent young Leventi until she felt like stomping her foot as if a spoilt child (which she was). And of course, once the impulse sprang into her mind, she acted on it; her small sandal clad foot landing upon the flagstone with a completely satisfying muffled thud.
Even then the questioning of her cover story continued, the damned plebeian even going as far as to call into question her navigational abilities. The pout she had been holding back broke free, but she tried to hide it with a pursing of her lips.
“I know exactly where we are.” She scoffed, completely ignoring the comment about her manufactured name. “We are, um well, we’re, uh, the- the Public Loutra is that way!” She exclaimed finally, throwing her hand out to point in a random direction. She was a beautiful and smart Leventi, and she foolishly trusted her appendage to gesture in the correct direction. Because of course, her arm had a mind and internal compass all its own. “Now you see, I am telling the truth, take me to my destination.” Dafni ludicrously finished, far to secure in her utterly ridiculous argument.
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Gods damn stupid foolish damned goodness darn garish frickity fracking commoner piece of stupid horse dung... stupid… human! Ugh, why could he not just be a good little plebian and take her where she desired, why did he have to be so curious and full of stupid self preservation gods damnit! Nothing ever went her way. Dafni nearly pouted with the thought; the universe always seemed to play tricks on her when she did things she was not supposed too. It was so totally unfair. Why could she not be left to her own totally valid and well thought out devices? It was the word… the problem was in no way herself. Became well, she was perfect of course! It was this stupid boys stupid fault for being smart and seeing past her ruse. Stupid! Ok, she needed to stop thinking that word, it was even irritating her, and that was saying something.
Haughtily sticking her nose in the air, Dafni twirled on the boy and crossed her arms.
“I would never.” She declared, insulted by his insinuation of illegal activity. Who did he think he was leveling such allegations as those on her. And even if she was, and she totally wasn't, she could partake in illegalities, she was a Levenit; there was no such thing as illegal when you were the daughter of a great Lord such as her father. Except of course treason, and murder, and theft, and well, other things. But that was only if you got caught, and only commoners got caught. That was what made them criminals, they were stupid
But Leventi’s, leventi’s were smart.
Secure in her own mental superiority (by the gods she was such a num-nut fraud) Dafni smirked at the boy before her. But instead of accepting her on her words and bowing to kiss her feet in submission to her whims, he kept talking. This was like an alternate dimension, and she very much disliked it. Is this what most commoners felt like all the time? Getting talked over and their words not trusted implicitly and without question? What a horrid way to live, how did they stand such toil? The desire of those below her to roll around in the dirt and converse with such lack of respect would never stop amazing her- in the worst way of course.
“Of course I am in danger!” She hissed, glaring now. But he still questioned her. The irritation welled up inside the insolent young Leventi until she felt like stomping her foot as if a spoilt child (which she was). And of course, once the impulse sprang into her mind, she acted on it; her small sandal clad foot landing upon the flagstone with a completely satisfying muffled thud.
Even then the questioning of her cover story continued, the damned plebeian even going as far as to call into question her navigational abilities. The pout she had been holding back broke free, but she tried to hide it with a pursing of her lips.
“I know exactly where we are.” She scoffed, completely ignoring the comment about her manufactured name. “We are, um well, we’re, uh, the- the Public Loutra is that way!” She exclaimed finally, throwing her hand out to point in a random direction. She was a beautiful and smart Leventi, and she foolishly trusted her appendage to gesture in the correct direction. Because of course, her arm had a mind and internal compass all its own. “Now you see, I am telling the truth, take me to my destination.” Dafni ludicrously finished, far to secure in her utterly ridiculous argument.
Gods damn stupid foolish damned goodness darn garish frickity fracking commoner piece of stupid horse dung... stupid… human! Ugh, why could he not just be a good little plebian and take her where she desired, why did he have to be so curious and full of stupid self preservation gods damnit! Nothing ever went her way. Dafni nearly pouted with the thought; the universe always seemed to play tricks on her when she did things she was not supposed too. It was so totally unfair. Why could she not be left to her own totally valid and well thought out devices? It was the word… the problem was in no way herself. Became well, she was perfect of course! It was this stupid boys stupid fault for being smart and seeing past her ruse. Stupid! Ok, she needed to stop thinking that word, it was even irritating her, and that was saying something.
Haughtily sticking her nose in the air, Dafni twirled on the boy and crossed her arms.
“I would never.” She declared, insulted by his insinuation of illegal activity. Who did he think he was leveling such allegations as those on her. And even if she was, and she totally wasn't, she could partake in illegalities, she was a Levenit; there was no such thing as illegal when you were the daughter of a great Lord such as her father. Except of course treason, and murder, and theft, and well, other things. But that was only if you got caught, and only commoners got caught. That was what made them criminals, they were stupid
But Leventi’s, leventi’s were smart.
Secure in her own mental superiority (by the gods she was such a num-nut fraud) Dafni smirked at the boy before her. But instead of accepting her on her words and bowing to kiss her feet in submission to her whims, he kept talking. This was like an alternate dimension, and she very much disliked it. Is this what most commoners felt like all the time? Getting talked over and their words not trusted implicitly and without question? What a horrid way to live, how did they stand such toil? The desire of those below her to roll around in the dirt and converse with such lack of respect would never stop amazing her- in the worst way of course.
“Of course I am in danger!” She hissed, glaring now. But he still questioned her. The irritation welled up inside the insolent young Leventi until she felt like stomping her foot as if a spoilt child (which she was). And of course, once the impulse sprang into her mind, she acted on it; her small sandal clad foot landing upon the flagstone with a completely satisfying muffled thud.
Even then the questioning of her cover story continued, the damned plebeian even going as far as to call into question her navigational abilities. The pout she had been holding back broke free, but she tried to hide it with a pursing of her lips.
“I know exactly where we are.” She scoffed, completely ignoring the comment about her manufactured name. “We are, um well, we’re, uh, the- the Public Loutra is that way!” She exclaimed finally, throwing her hand out to point in a random direction. She was a beautiful and smart Leventi, and she foolishly trusted her appendage to gesture in the correct direction. Because of course, her arm had a mind and internal compass all its own. “Now you see, I am telling the truth, take me to my destination.” Dafni ludicrously finished, far to secure in her utterly ridiculous argument.
This girl acted strangely, for a supposed commoner or even someone important trying to blend into the crowd. It was like there was some disconnect, an inability to accept reality. Or was it anger, bubbling to the surface and trying to be disguised? The young Alastor, for all of his naivete in the face of danger and his own inconvenience, held his ability to assess more mundane situations with a source of pride.
This girl is so suspicious, it's almost absurd.
Little by little, Alastor wanted to sharpen his instincts, make himself indispensable. To be necessary, especially in the wake of his recent misfortunes, was of tantamount importance. Becoming a man that Chrysto could be proud of, while not quite as necessary, would be so useful. Having the wherewithal to gauge a person's temperament, to assess their level of threat and ultimately, decide what to do? He'd try it here, and he was certain of the fact: this Zoe girl was not who she claimed to be.
"Of course I am in danger!"
Was she, though? She was in the middle of an alleyway, which could be considered suspect, but there were no footfalls behind them determined to catch up, there was minimal tension in the air, not the sort of atmosphere that came with her narrative that she was so insistent on keeping.
"I know exactly where we are."
Sure.
She pointed in a random direction and it was at this point that he really took pity on her once again. With all of these factors in play, it was probably best for him to just do as she said, leave her at the Loutra and never see her again. She was helpless, but probably not in danger. Stranding her out in the middle of a network of alleyways? It'd put her in far greater of a plight than the one she was supposedly avoiding. So, he relented. The questions? They didn't matter. Besides, he could probably use a bath, after this mess of an encounter. So, he nodded his head,
"Fine. Have it your way, Zoe," he relented with a huff, taking hold of her wrist once again and nudging her in the complete opposite direction from which she pointed. Now, they were on the open pathways, blending easily into a crowd as he offered,
"If you're avoiding people, it might be best to come a bit closer. Pretend we're an item. People don't look to closely at couples," he informed her.
This wasn't what he wanted in the slightest, but in the end, it was the best way to get her out of his hair.
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This girl acted strangely, for a supposed commoner or even someone important trying to blend into the crowd. It was like there was some disconnect, an inability to accept reality. Or was it anger, bubbling to the surface and trying to be disguised? The young Alastor, for all of his naivete in the face of danger and his own inconvenience, held his ability to assess more mundane situations with a source of pride.
This girl is so suspicious, it's almost absurd.
Little by little, Alastor wanted to sharpen his instincts, make himself indispensable. To be necessary, especially in the wake of his recent misfortunes, was of tantamount importance. Becoming a man that Chrysto could be proud of, while not quite as necessary, would be so useful. Having the wherewithal to gauge a person's temperament, to assess their level of threat and ultimately, decide what to do? He'd try it here, and he was certain of the fact: this Zoe girl was not who she claimed to be.
"Of course I am in danger!"
Was she, though? She was in the middle of an alleyway, which could be considered suspect, but there were no footfalls behind them determined to catch up, there was minimal tension in the air, not the sort of atmosphere that came with her narrative that she was so insistent on keeping.
"I know exactly where we are."
Sure.
She pointed in a random direction and it was at this point that he really took pity on her once again. With all of these factors in play, it was probably best for him to just do as she said, leave her at the Loutra and never see her again. She was helpless, but probably not in danger. Stranding her out in the middle of a network of alleyways? It'd put her in far greater of a plight than the one she was supposedly avoiding. So, he relented. The questions? They didn't matter. Besides, he could probably use a bath, after this mess of an encounter. So, he nodded his head,
"Fine. Have it your way, Zoe," he relented with a huff, taking hold of her wrist once again and nudging her in the complete opposite direction from which she pointed. Now, they were on the open pathways, blending easily into a crowd as he offered,
"If you're avoiding people, it might be best to come a bit closer. Pretend we're an item. People don't look to closely at couples," he informed her.
This wasn't what he wanted in the slightest, but in the end, it was the best way to get her out of his hair.
This girl acted strangely, for a supposed commoner or even someone important trying to blend into the crowd. It was like there was some disconnect, an inability to accept reality. Or was it anger, bubbling to the surface and trying to be disguised? The young Alastor, for all of his naivete in the face of danger and his own inconvenience, held his ability to assess more mundane situations with a source of pride.
This girl is so suspicious, it's almost absurd.
Little by little, Alastor wanted to sharpen his instincts, make himself indispensable. To be necessary, especially in the wake of his recent misfortunes, was of tantamount importance. Becoming a man that Chrysto could be proud of, while not quite as necessary, would be so useful. Having the wherewithal to gauge a person's temperament, to assess their level of threat and ultimately, decide what to do? He'd try it here, and he was certain of the fact: this Zoe girl was not who she claimed to be.
"Of course I am in danger!"
Was she, though? She was in the middle of an alleyway, which could be considered suspect, but there were no footfalls behind them determined to catch up, there was minimal tension in the air, not the sort of atmosphere that came with her narrative that she was so insistent on keeping.
"I know exactly where we are."
Sure.
She pointed in a random direction and it was at this point that he really took pity on her once again. With all of these factors in play, it was probably best for him to just do as she said, leave her at the Loutra and never see her again. She was helpless, but probably not in danger. Stranding her out in the middle of a network of alleyways? It'd put her in far greater of a plight than the one she was supposedly avoiding. So, he relented. The questions? They didn't matter. Besides, he could probably use a bath, after this mess of an encounter. So, he nodded his head,
"Fine. Have it your way, Zoe," he relented with a huff, taking hold of her wrist once again and nudging her in the complete opposite direction from which she pointed. Now, they were on the open pathways, blending easily into a crowd as he offered,
"If you're avoiding people, it might be best to come a bit closer. Pretend we're an item. People don't look to closely at couples," he informed her.
This wasn't what he wanted in the slightest, but in the end, it was the best way to get her out of his hair.
The lad's face reflects a disbelief that Dafni was well acquainted with, his eyes bouncing from her face to her finger as if to see if she was actually serious. It was reminiscent of the way Melina's muddy brown eyes would appraisal her when she knew Dafni’s lips were spewing utter horse shit. This fact only furthering her infuriation even as she dropped her arm to pretend the incident never happened.
This boy did not know her as her sister did, and still she received the same look! Was Melina having a secret dalliance with this commoner over their shared look of ridicule? Could one even forge a friendship over common facial expressions? If this was so then Dafni would be friends with half the nobility even though her look of haughty superior far exceeded there's, obviously. Nobody could look down one's nose on another person like Dafni. It was a skill. Truly. Have you ever tried to look down the slender bridge of your perfectly formed nose at a person of superior height than yourself? It was much harder than it looked.
But even as she combated his glare that screamed of her own idiocy with one of smug satisfaction (for no reason whatsoever), his hand was reaching for her own. Around her pale slender wrist his fingers wound, practically dragging her from the safe seclusion of the back alleys and right into the bright notoriety of the main street.
The nerve!
Danfi squeaked in protest and tried to jerk her hand from his only to be quelled by the dry baritone of his voice as it bayed her to play the part of a couple. A couple! Not only had this lad touched her but now he had the audacity to coerce her into playing his commoner wife. How could he think under any circumstance she would relent to such treatment ! He must be mad! In no uncertain terms would she ever pretend to be this uncouth creature’s anything. No way no how. Nah ah, not happening.
The bright flowy silk of a courtiers garment caught her eye.
“Sure!” Dafni whisper screeched as she whipped her head in such a way that her hair hid her from any prying eyes. The hand that was only seconds ago contemplated escape from his fingers now threaded its way around his arm until the limb tied the boy (she totally forgot his name again) as securely to her as a barnacle to a ship's hull; and just as ridiculously irritating. “No need to dilly dally, hurry up now!”
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The lad's face reflects a disbelief that Dafni was well acquainted with, his eyes bouncing from her face to her finger as if to see if she was actually serious. It was reminiscent of the way Melina's muddy brown eyes would appraisal her when she knew Dafni’s lips were spewing utter horse shit. This fact only furthering her infuriation even as she dropped her arm to pretend the incident never happened.
This boy did not know her as her sister did, and still she received the same look! Was Melina having a secret dalliance with this commoner over their shared look of ridicule? Could one even forge a friendship over common facial expressions? If this was so then Dafni would be friends with half the nobility even though her look of haughty superior far exceeded there's, obviously. Nobody could look down one's nose on another person like Dafni. It was a skill. Truly. Have you ever tried to look down the slender bridge of your perfectly formed nose at a person of superior height than yourself? It was much harder than it looked.
But even as she combated his glare that screamed of her own idiocy with one of smug satisfaction (for no reason whatsoever), his hand was reaching for her own. Around her pale slender wrist his fingers wound, practically dragging her from the safe seclusion of the back alleys and right into the bright notoriety of the main street.
The nerve!
Danfi squeaked in protest and tried to jerk her hand from his only to be quelled by the dry baritone of his voice as it bayed her to play the part of a couple. A couple! Not only had this lad touched her but now he had the audacity to coerce her into playing his commoner wife. How could he think under any circumstance she would relent to such treatment ! He must be mad! In no uncertain terms would she ever pretend to be this uncouth creature’s anything. No way no how. Nah ah, not happening.
The bright flowy silk of a courtiers garment caught her eye.
“Sure!” Dafni whisper screeched as she whipped her head in such a way that her hair hid her from any prying eyes. The hand that was only seconds ago contemplated escape from his fingers now threaded its way around his arm until the limb tied the boy (she totally forgot his name again) as securely to her as a barnacle to a ship's hull; and just as ridiculously irritating. “No need to dilly dally, hurry up now!”
The lad's face reflects a disbelief that Dafni was well acquainted with, his eyes bouncing from her face to her finger as if to see if she was actually serious. It was reminiscent of the way Melina's muddy brown eyes would appraisal her when she knew Dafni’s lips were spewing utter horse shit. This fact only furthering her infuriation even as she dropped her arm to pretend the incident never happened.
This boy did not know her as her sister did, and still she received the same look! Was Melina having a secret dalliance with this commoner over their shared look of ridicule? Could one even forge a friendship over common facial expressions? If this was so then Dafni would be friends with half the nobility even though her look of haughty superior far exceeded there's, obviously. Nobody could look down one's nose on another person like Dafni. It was a skill. Truly. Have you ever tried to look down the slender bridge of your perfectly formed nose at a person of superior height than yourself? It was much harder than it looked.
But even as she combated his glare that screamed of her own idiocy with one of smug satisfaction (for no reason whatsoever), his hand was reaching for her own. Around her pale slender wrist his fingers wound, practically dragging her from the safe seclusion of the back alleys and right into the bright notoriety of the main street.
The nerve!
Danfi squeaked in protest and tried to jerk her hand from his only to be quelled by the dry baritone of his voice as it bayed her to play the part of a couple. A couple! Not only had this lad touched her but now he had the audacity to coerce her into playing his commoner wife. How could he think under any circumstance she would relent to such treatment ! He must be mad! In no uncertain terms would she ever pretend to be this uncouth creature’s anything. No way no how. Nah ah, not happening.
The bright flowy silk of a courtiers garment caught her eye.
“Sure!” Dafni whisper screeched as she whipped her head in such a way that her hair hid her from any prying eyes. The hand that was only seconds ago contemplated escape from his fingers now threaded its way around his arm until the limb tied the boy (she totally forgot his name again) as securely to her as a barnacle to a ship's hull; and just as ridiculously irritating. “No need to dilly dally, hurry up now!”
Alasrtor would never pretend to fathom what it was that went on behind this woman's pretty face, but the distinct atmosphere of weak deception was palpable. Ill-suited, or perhaps, simply too arrogant to see the cracks in her façade, the woman seemed an actress playing a part and Alastor wanted, nay, needed, to know why.
Why would someone willingly plunge into this deception? He considered the necessity of it. Particularly in his master's profession, deception was as necessary as breath. While uncertain of his desire to become that person, it was amusing to see the contrast between Agathon or his lackeys' deceptions and this woman's. Experience, he surmised, was a necessary component to success.
"You're a noble," he mused, looking to the woman. His voice was quiet, so incredibly so that Dafni might not have even heard him in the midst of it all. Bit by bit, it all fell into place. By the lilt and turn of her voice to the vocabulary she used, to her running away and trying to escape from some unknown force. The tumblers fell into place as he considered her fine skin and beautiful face. There was a myth that spoke to the beauty of royal-blooded and those of noble standing. Blessed by the gods to be in their place of power, their beauty was their mark.
But who?
It didn't matter, he supposed, in the moment. She took hold of his arm and secured herself to his arm, placing far too much pressure for this to be in any way comfortable. He felt the blood still in the limb, his efforts at loosening her grasp distracted by the pace she took, almost carrying him forward until his legs compensated and took him along with her. The pair of them took a slow, tedious pace through the open streets of Vasiliadon. Alastor, in playing his part, looked from market stall to market stall, taking a vine of grapes from a merchant and giving him coin as recompense.
"Oooh, what a lovely couple!" an elderly merchant woman crooned over them, pulling back the grapes and giving a different, more succulent set for the 'couple' to share.
"Have a wonderful day, dearies."
Despite the tension in every day life, it seemed adamant on moving forward, and Alastor even found the inkling of a smile gracing his lips as he made every effort to not look at the girl on his arm.
If only she was Sara, he lamented, before trudging onward to take them towards the Loutra. Once they arrived, Alastor offered coin once again, paying their way towards privacy as teasing giggles escaped the lips of attending servants and the proprietors themselves. Alastor simply nodded, offering the most polite of smiles before he looked back to the noble girl, whom he still hadn't the faintest inkling of identity.
"Now what? You're here and safe. Your noble friends didn't follow us here," he added, letting her know of the fallacy of her deception at last.
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Alasrtor would never pretend to fathom what it was that went on behind this woman's pretty face, but the distinct atmosphere of weak deception was palpable. Ill-suited, or perhaps, simply too arrogant to see the cracks in her façade, the woman seemed an actress playing a part and Alastor wanted, nay, needed, to know why.
Why would someone willingly plunge into this deception? He considered the necessity of it. Particularly in his master's profession, deception was as necessary as breath. While uncertain of his desire to become that person, it was amusing to see the contrast between Agathon or his lackeys' deceptions and this woman's. Experience, he surmised, was a necessary component to success.
"You're a noble," he mused, looking to the woman. His voice was quiet, so incredibly so that Dafni might not have even heard him in the midst of it all. Bit by bit, it all fell into place. By the lilt and turn of her voice to the vocabulary she used, to her running away and trying to escape from some unknown force. The tumblers fell into place as he considered her fine skin and beautiful face. There was a myth that spoke to the beauty of royal-blooded and those of noble standing. Blessed by the gods to be in their place of power, their beauty was their mark.
But who?
It didn't matter, he supposed, in the moment. She took hold of his arm and secured herself to his arm, placing far too much pressure for this to be in any way comfortable. He felt the blood still in the limb, his efforts at loosening her grasp distracted by the pace she took, almost carrying him forward until his legs compensated and took him along with her. The pair of them took a slow, tedious pace through the open streets of Vasiliadon. Alastor, in playing his part, looked from market stall to market stall, taking a vine of grapes from a merchant and giving him coin as recompense.
"Oooh, what a lovely couple!" an elderly merchant woman crooned over them, pulling back the grapes and giving a different, more succulent set for the 'couple' to share.
"Have a wonderful day, dearies."
Despite the tension in every day life, it seemed adamant on moving forward, and Alastor even found the inkling of a smile gracing his lips as he made every effort to not look at the girl on his arm.
If only she was Sara, he lamented, before trudging onward to take them towards the Loutra. Once they arrived, Alastor offered coin once again, paying their way towards privacy as teasing giggles escaped the lips of attending servants and the proprietors themselves. Alastor simply nodded, offering the most polite of smiles before he looked back to the noble girl, whom he still hadn't the faintest inkling of identity.
"Now what? You're here and safe. Your noble friends didn't follow us here," he added, letting her know of the fallacy of her deception at last.
Alasrtor would never pretend to fathom what it was that went on behind this woman's pretty face, but the distinct atmosphere of weak deception was palpable. Ill-suited, or perhaps, simply too arrogant to see the cracks in her façade, the woman seemed an actress playing a part and Alastor wanted, nay, needed, to know why.
Why would someone willingly plunge into this deception? He considered the necessity of it. Particularly in his master's profession, deception was as necessary as breath. While uncertain of his desire to become that person, it was amusing to see the contrast between Agathon or his lackeys' deceptions and this woman's. Experience, he surmised, was a necessary component to success.
"You're a noble," he mused, looking to the woman. His voice was quiet, so incredibly so that Dafni might not have even heard him in the midst of it all. Bit by bit, it all fell into place. By the lilt and turn of her voice to the vocabulary she used, to her running away and trying to escape from some unknown force. The tumblers fell into place as he considered her fine skin and beautiful face. There was a myth that spoke to the beauty of royal-blooded and those of noble standing. Blessed by the gods to be in their place of power, their beauty was their mark.
But who?
It didn't matter, he supposed, in the moment. She took hold of his arm and secured herself to his arm, placing far too much pressure for this to be in any way comfortable. He felt the blood still in the limb, his efforts at loosening her grasp distracted by the pace she took, almost carrying him forward until his legs compensated and took him along with her. The pair of them took a slow, tedious pace through the open streets of Vasiliadon. Alastor, in playing his part, looked from market stall to market stall, taking a vine of grapes from a merchant and giving him coin as recompense.
"Oooh, what a lovely couple!" an elderly merchant woman crooned over them, pulling back the grapes and giving a different, more succulent set for the 'couple' to share.
"Have a wonderful day, dearies."
Despite the tension in every day life, it seemed adamant on moving forward, and Alastor even found the inkling of a smile gracing his lips as he made every effort to not look at the girl on his arm.
If only she was Sara, he lamented, before trudging onward to take them towards the Loutra. Once they arrived, Alastor offered coin once again, paying their way towards privacy as teasing giggles escaped the lips of attending servants and the proprietors themselves. Alastor simply nodded, offering the most polite of smiles before he looked back to the noble girl, whom he still hadn't the faintest inkling of identity.
"Now what? You're here and safe. Your noble friends didn't follow us here," he added, letting her know of the fallacy of her deception at last.
This boy would be the death of her- in no uncertain terms- his rather pointed dilly dallying, after she had quite specifically and in the exact words asked him, not to dilly dally, would lead her to fall dead upon these very streets. No, oh no, instead of hurrying his steps as she had instructed this commoner seemed to take pleasure in drawing out the experience. Even if the look on his face belayed such a sentiment… but how could he not enjoy her company. She was after all his better, incredibly indefinably and irresistibly gorgeous, and well, just plane amazing. So she would not blame him for wanting to spend more time around her. She simply did not want to spend more time around him.
No, she wanted to get to the gods damned Loutra as quickly as humanly possible and be done with this misbegotten adventure. To put this day behind her and bury it under a straight week of shopping in her regular clothes, looking her regular self, and inflicting the regular amount of tongue lashings upon her servants and those courtiers that were deserving.
But instead, she was paraded around, all the while having to touch the ungrateful man. It was a nightmare, truly, even the night terror she had the other night about a country wide snail shortage did not come close to this day. And well, if you asked any resident of the Leventi house, Dafni loved her snails. So that was saying something.
At one point a little old commoner merchant woman said, well said- something so inane and terrifying Dafni could not even bring herself to think about it.
“Oooh, what a lovely couple!”
By the gods, a shudder wracked her slender and enticing form as the words played across her consciousness once more. They would keep her up at night for days to come.
And then finally, by the grace of the gods, they made it to the Loutra. She was so close, so so so close. Only to be confronted by the unraveling of her intricate made and flawlessly executed façade at the last moment. If it was possible, her hands tightened upon his forearm even more. Fingers digging into his skin, in a fashion more akin to the claws of a mighty beast, than the nails of a human. Or so she fancifully imagined.
“I haven't the slightest idea of what you speak.” Dafni gritted out between her clenched teeth and forcefully smiling lips. The attendants none the wiser to the fallacy of Dafni and the commoners visit (whos name she was really just giving up on remembering at this point). Dragging him forth, as she seemed very inclined to do, she navigated him through the maze of baths in a rather sneaky fashion until she reached her own. Pushing him inside before anyone could become wise to the fact that two apparent low born plebeians were encroaching on the private bathing room of a Leventi.
“Now,” She snarked, throwing his words back at him, “You keep you keep your mouth shut like a good servant boy.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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This boy would be the death of her- in no uncertain terms- his rather pointed dilly dallying, after she had quite specifically and in the exact words asked him, not to dilly dally, would lead her to fall dead upon these very streets. No, oh no, instead of hurrying his steps as she had instructed this commoner seemed to take pleasure in drawing out the experience. Even if the look on his face belayed such a sentiment… but how could he not enjoy her company. She was after all his better, incredibly indefinably and irresistibly gorgeous, and well, just plane amazing. So she would not blame him for wanting to spend more time around her. She simply did not want to spend more time around him.
No, she wanted to get to the gods damned Loutra as quickly as humanly possible and be done with this misbegotten adventure. To put this day behind her and bury it under a straight week of shopping in her regular clothes, looking her regular self, and inflicting the regular amount of tongue lashings upon her servants and those courtiers that were deserving.
But instead, she was paraded around, all the while having to touch the ungrateful man. It was a nightmare, truly, even the night terror she had the other night about a country wide snail shortage did not come close to this day. And well, if you asked any resident of the Leventi house, Dafni loved her snails. So that was saying something.
At one point a little old commoner merchant woman said, well said- something so inane and terrifying Dafni could not even bring herself to think about it.
“Oooh, what a lovely couple!”
By the gods, a shudder wracked her slender and enticing form as the words played across her consciousness once more. They would keep her up at night for days to come.
And then finally, by the grace of the gods, they made it to the Loutra. She was so close, so so so close. Only to be confronted by the unraveling of her intricate made and flawlessly executed façade at the last moment. If it was possible, her hands tightened upon his forearm even more. Fingers digging into his skin, in a fashion more akin to the claws of a mighty beast, than the nails of a human. Or so she fancifully imagined.
“I haven't the slightest idea of what you speak.” Dafni gritted out between her clenched teeth and forcefully smiling lips. The attendants none the wiser to the fallacy of Dafni and the commoners visit (whos name she was really just giving up on remembering at this point). Dragging him forth, as she seemed very inclined to do, she navigated him through the maze of baths in a rather sneaky fashion until she reached her own. Pushing him inside before anyone could become wise to the fact that two apparent low born plebeians were encroaching on the private bathing room of a Leventi.
“Now,” She snarked, throwing his words back at him, “You keep you keep your mouth shut like a good servant boy.”
This boy would be the death of her- in no uncertain terms- his rather pointed dilly dallying, after she had quite specifically and in the exact words asked him, not to dilly dally, would lead her to fall dead upon these very streets. No, oh no, instead of hurrying his steps as she had instructed this commoner seemed to take pleasure in drawing out the experience. Even if the look on his face belayed such a sentiment… but how could he not enjoy her company. She was after all his better, incredibly indefinably and irresistibly gorgeous, and well, just plane amazing. So she would not blame him for wanting to spend more time around her. She simply did not want to spend more time around him.
No, she wanted to get to the gods damned Loutra as quickly as humanly possible and be done with this misbegotten adventure. To put this day behind her and bury it under a straight week of shopping in her regular clothes, looking her regular self, and inflicting the regular amount of tongue lashings upon her servants and those courtiers that were deserving.
But instead, she was paraded around, all the while having to touch the ungrateful man. It was a nightmare, truly, even the night terror she had the other night about a country wide snail shortage did not come close to this day. And well, if you asked any resident of the Leventi house, Dafni loved her snails. So that was saying something.
At one point a little old commoner merchant woman said, well said- something so inane and terrifying Dafni could not even bring herself to think about it.
“Oooh, what a lovely couple!”
By the gods, a shudder wracked her slender and enticing form as the words played across her consciousness once more. They would keep her up at night for days to come.
And then finally, by the grace of the gods, they made it to the Loutra. She was so close, so so so close. Only to be confronted by the unraveling of her intricate made and flawlessly executed façade at the last moment. If it was possible, her hands tightened upon his forearm even more. Fingers digging into his skin, in a fashion more akin to the claws of a mighty beast, than the nails of a human. Or so she fancifully imagined.
“I haven't the slightest idea of what you speak.” Dafni gritted out between her clenched teeth and forcefully smiling lips. The attendants none the wiser to the fallacy of Dafni and the commoners visit (whos name she was really just giving up on remembering at this point). Dragging him forth, as she seemed very inclined to do, she navigated him through the maze of baths in a rather sneaky fashion until she reached her own. Pushing him inside before anyone could become wise to the fact that two apparent low born plebeians were encroaching on the private bathing room of a Leventi.
“Now,” She snarked, throwing his words back at him, “You keep you keep your mouth shut like a good servant boy.”
