Getting There

[Asila]

Asila looks sharply up at Juliet when she makes her enlightening proclamation, but this was more in reaction to the other girl's horror than the words. The Forsaken herself wasn't surprised to hear that her new master's stone was on the board with hers. Wasn't she as stuck with him as he was with her? For better or for worse, their fates were intertwined. For as long as she managed to live.

Yet she makes the connection. If Juliet was horrified to see the stone of the man she loved on her board, then Thrasymachus' stone must have fallen in a spot that indicated that they were destined to be together. Or something along those lines. Once again, this wasn't surprising.

While she assesses the situation, her lips have pressed together in a thin line and her eyes have narrowed thoughtfully. She risks a glance back at Thrasymachus, to see what she can glean of his reaction. Judging from his expression and comments, he was annoyed and impatient. She really shouldn't draw this out any more.

But looking back at Granny...oh, she couldn't resist. She just had to ask. "If that's Terrance's stone, can you tell me what it says about him?" There was no mistaking the amusement in her gaze, as hard as she tried to hide it. Masking emotion was not one of her strengths.

Granny's predictions concerning her future were interesting, but this small question somehow seemed better. Though whether this was due to survival's desire to know thy enemy, mischief's wish to bring about humorous discomfort, or her own lack of faith concerning any hope for her future, she could not say. Most likely it was a combination of all three traits. Yet the prediction still carried weight that she could not ignore, and while she didn't comment she did take careful note of the words. She would try not to forget them.

[Seven]

Granny laughed softly again. "Well, my dear, I suppose it could mean an intersection in your and his lives, but the stone really does have its own meaning. It had one before it was deemed 'Terrance's stone.'" She drew her hands across the non-existent, horizontal, center line, from Asila's left to right. "This line isn't drawn, but it's there, isn't it? I admit I was also surprised. You have a finality stone. A sort of 'probable final outcome,' my dear." The white stone did lie farthest out to the right side, in line with the golden stone on the central, horizontal plane.

Thrasymachus knew how seriously Granny took her readings. She never doubted him. So, staring down at the board, he wondered how she would read that last stone. He remembered what it meant, and he could see the slightest twinge in the muscles in her face.

As he suspected though, she smiled at Asila again--it was just her nature to 'make nice' with everyone, especially fresh blood. "White is the color of absence, my dear, the absence of color, the opposite of black. In a way, being devoid of all else, it is almost a kind of purity. Untainted by color." Her voice had been progressively getting quieter, and shook her head, the liveliness of her act fading, as though she didn't know what to say--or at least, unsure of how to describe it. "It is...freedom, if you will. Yes, freedom. It is...release." Her tone picked up a bit of it's old pace. "Your reading suggests that you're going to have a good deal of action in your near future. Your final stone suggests that it will culminate in a peace that comes by letting these things go, or perhaps by being let go..."

Thrasymachus remembered the white stone well. The absence of color. Being empty. Untainted. The white stone meant death.

"Of course, this stone might also be an indication that there is some link between our dear skeptical Terrance and yourself in your future, but it seems less likely unless--in your mind--you characterize Terrance as having these qualities. After all, when you picked the stone, you didn't know our little joke that it was his stone, hm?" she said playfully, with words that could have suggested a wink. Thrasymachus thought she was probably just trying to change the topic.

[Forsaken]

Granny's beginning sentences were of little consequence to her, but from the very beginning the meaning behind her new master's stone snuffed the sparking mischief from her gaze, the death of a small flame that has outlived it's usefulness. She stares at the stone as the elderly woman continues to describe it, feeling cool and remote. Distant in her way, though she will never match the supreme distance implied by that stone.

She stares at that white stone, a mere inanimate object, and feels threatened. She sucks her lower lip into her mouth and bites it, trying to regain her concept of reality. They were only stones. She was taking this too seriously.

Unfortunately, telling herself that she was being unreasonably didn't change the fact that she suddenly didn't want to be here anymore. The moment had lost it's magic. Yet she couldn't flee immediately. That could cause suspicion. She had to end this now, but she would do so with as much tact as she could manage.

So as she stares at the stone, she puts aside all of the negative connotations and focuses on the positive one. "Purity..." She breaths the word out in a whisper, and knows she has not shaken the nervousness from her expression. She decides to battle this by adding a positive note of her own. "And perhaps a new beginning?" she fishes, looking up at Granny and returning her smile with a warm one of her own. That, at least, was convincing. It wasn't a fabrication, since she genuinely liked this old woman.

[Seven]

Granny smiled at her. "Rebirth, my darling." Then, she did something she probably shouldn't have. The old woman stood up. She was rickety in her age, and immediately, Juliet made a jumpy move toward her grandmother, as though she was afraid the aged thing would fall apart under the weight of gravity and end up a pile of skin draped over bones on the icy floor. But she didn't, even though standing--much less walking--looked like should have been impossible for the frail being. Her back curled inward when she stood, and she immediately took her cane and hobbled a meager distance. If Thrasymachus was also concerned about the woman's well-being when she tried to get up, he held his expression well, though he himself felt unnerved as she stared up at him for a moment. Then, her eyes landed on Asila, followed by her hand on Asila's shoulder--though it was also hard to tell if it was an act of reassurance, or simply her need to balance.

She could see the spots of discoloration on her skin, and how the loose skin and dark veins made her hands look spidery and webbed and strange. "Rebirth can come in many forms, Dearie, and it can mean different things for different people. And some people just to need to get some things through their thick heads," she said in a not so subtly accusing tone as she stared back up at 'Terrance' again, practically shaking her cane at him--if only she could have lifted it up high enough. She looked back down at Asila, with kind eyes and a shaky, but gentle voice. "It's nothing to fear though, darling. Sometimes, these things are the ones we need most. Even when we don't know it."

Her hand left Asila's shoulder, and she began to turn away, needing to go back inside. Juliet immediately reached for the elderly woman's arm, helping support her. The young woman turned her head though, and her eyes shone up at Thrasymachus, but just for a second, as her attention returned to helping guide Granny down the stairs.

"You should come in for some tea!" Granny suddenly said, sounding a little senile for a moment, as it was a complete turn from everything else. And she had offered tea in the beginning. She laughed a little, which sound like cackling, when, on the ice, she suddenly start to slip. Juliet tried to clutch, but she couldn't support all of the woman's weight on just one side.

There was never any real problem of course, with two hardly, if not non-humans in the vicinity. Thrasymachus, in what was really too quickly for his all-human guise, was at the other side. He had caught her and she was up on her feet again before she had ever fallen, the last cackle on her wispy breath. Looking down at the bit of twinkle in her eye, Thrasymachus for a second wondered if the old fox might have done that on purpose--though it was a ridiculous thing to think.

Nevertheless, he glanced Asila's way. "Come help us," he said, not thinking of the blatant, authoritative command in his tone.

Granny chuckled softly again. "What nice dears you all are..." she mumbled softly.

[Forsaken]

Asila was relieved to have kept the situation from getting too uncomfortable. It was hard for her to control what she was feeling. Her attitude usually bled out into the people surrounding her. This time, however, she had done well, and the accomplishment returned the tattered cloak of her confidence to her.

She considers the rickety old lady uncertainly as she stands, and when that ancient hand came to land on her shoulder she was very careful to keep her frame steady and be a good support post if that was what she was. She laughs quietly at Granny's teasing. There was no sound to the reaction, but she shook faintly as she held it back, her breathing suddenly strained with the effort.

And, of course, when Granny walked away and slipped, Asila immediately threw herself to her feet, but checked herself in her race as soon as she registered that her master had the situation under control. If she rushed forward as well, she would only get in the way. As she stood frozen only a step away from her seat, she stared strangely at Thrasymachus. Disbelieving. For while she understood that they had a cover to maintain, saving the elderly woman from what would be for her a devastating fall was not part of that mission. If anything, it only jeopardized their cover. So his action just now...it must have been out of genuine concern for-

The thought halted immediately as her master demanded her assistance, snapping her briefly into another mindset. Again, her disguise flickered and nearly failed her. She swiftly put it right, nearly forgetting. "Coming, Master." She said in a carefully articulate, neutral tone. For a moment she regretted that instinctive response, but assured herself that Granny and Juliet would think it was her own brand of sarcasm and nothing more. She rushed forward, skirting around the side claimed by Juliet as she thought it best to take over for the weaker individual. Had it been her original master, she would have taken over for him instead, but she'd already gleaned through this outing that the dark-haired Guardian preferred to handle matters himself. It seemed a matter of pride. She would not insult him.

So she moved in beside Juliet. "Would you like me too....?" As she met the gaze of the other girl she thought better of her intended offer. "I'll get the door." She says instead, and darts to the door where she turned the handle and held it open, moving herself in alignment with the plane of the door so that she did not obstruct the doorway. Once there she waited for further orders, spoken or unspoken.

[Seven]

Thraysmachus immediately stiffened, and only barely checked an impulse to spin around and shoot a reprimanding glare (knowing that would be worse), as Juliet suddenly looked at him oddly. Even Granny, int he midst of her moment of physical feebleness, gave him a bit of an awry look. Thrasymachus tried to act nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders. "Sheesh, you haven't worked for me that long," he tried to say in a jovial tone, which nearly sounded wrong on him. In any case, it was good enough for the other two, who seemed to let it go.

Asila had made the right move, as Juliet might have otherwise become a little defensive, given it was her grandmother, and she hardly knew Asila. There was Terrance...but that was different. She knew him, right? But when Asila took the door, she nodded, gratefully, and helped Granny--with Terrance's assistance--bring her inside. The room they entered had low ceiling--small enough that Thrasymachus had to bend his head a little so it wouldn't bump against the ceiling. The room they had entered in seemed to be a sort of cellar, with an upstairs right above it. And if it wasn't cramped enough, a few old brassy looking pots hung from the ceiling in certain spots. But other than that, the room was warm, and the walls a deep yellowish color, that seemed to make it look like it was in a perpetual evening light, like at a cozy tavern.

"Ah--I guess that was a bit of a scare. I really must move more carefully," Granny said, nodding thankfully at the youths around her, and as Juliet helped her into another chair. Then Juliet stepped, but something about her shy mannerisms made her look particularly sheepish, especially since when she stepped back, her position landed her beside 'Terrance,' who didn't seem to care particularly either way. But Granny was not so unkind to her granddaughter. "Ahh, I guess I just need to rest...recover for a moment." She turn her head to Asila. "Won't you be a dear, and keep an old lady like me a few minutes company?" she said in a quietly pleading tone.

"Granny, we really must be going--"

"Oh yes, Terrance. You came deliver something for me, yes? Juliet will show you where to put it. I'd do it myself, but..."

Trhasymachus grimaced a little, but then turned to Juliet, and said in a rather polite tone, picking up the package once more, "Lead the way."

[Forsaken]

As the three of them passed Asila at her current post, she fought to resist the urge to emphatically shake her head like a cat with water in it's ears. Things were beginning to go awry in her head, again. She was losing focus. Her double role of obedient Forsaken acting the part of a forth-wright, friendly human and form-warping disguise were beginning to overwhelm her.

She was not at all happy to hear that her master and Juliet were going to a separate area, leaving her here with Granny. But there was no getting out of it, and she could manage this. The fogginess that was creeping up on her could be controlled if she kept herself calm. It was only the anxiety she felt over her slip-up that made it seem as though her entire disguise was starting to fall apart. "Of course I'll stay with you for a while, Granny." She says in answer, stepping away from the door and toward the center of the cozy little room.

When Thrasymachus and Juliet leave the room, Asila casts a meaningful glance back in their direction before turning back to Granny, arching an eyebrow in inquiry.

[Seven]

Granny chuckled silently to herself as she watched Thrasymachus follow Juliet out of the room. It was only for a pleased moment, as the old woman wondered if she'd make it till she became a great-grandmother, before she looked back at Asila. "You really should try some of the tea here. It helps you relax."


For Thrasymachus, it was not the first time he had been in the cramped residence. He had visited the little house before in passing, though usually on the upper, main floor, where Juliet single-handedly ran restaurant-tavern by herself. He could see the pockets on her old, greying apron to be stuffed from before he had arrived and she undoubtedly was busy trying to prepare for opening in a few hours for the midday meal. The few door frames they passed kept him ducking down, like they had in the times he had been in the cellar before. Not that he consider himself such a frequent visitor, but he had seen enough, just here and there, or through a hallway, or from the outside of the tiny building, to fully know its layout. And following the comely, disheveled woman, with a few old colorful stains on smears across her old dress--that had been washed several times but still refused to leave--he knew that he wasn't being led to any storage room of any sort.

Juliet paused when her hand reached the last door in the narrow, winding hallway, and she took in a breath, hesitating for a second, before she finally pushed it in with the weight of her body. Thrasymachus said nothing as he undoubtedly stepped into Juliet's room, but he felt a little stiff with awkwardness. He had never seen it before, as it had no windows in the cellar, and it really looked like something he should have expected, but its appearance still surprised him. He had always been fully aware that the young woman loved to paint--he had seen a few of her pieces in the bar upstairs--and he wasn't sure where she found the time, but he hadn't expected to see quite so many canvases. It looked liked she tried to keep them neatly leaning against the walls, a few others hanging where she had the space, though they were cramped in the tiny room--giving the room the impression of being as disheveled as the woman before him. And the room was cramped, probably the same size as his was, Thrasymachus thought. 'No...wait... mine is still smaller.' He nearly frowned.

He was quickly brought back to reality at the faint impression of her voice, gentle as her hand pointed to a free space on the side table next to him. Her back was still turned from him, from when she had entered the room. "You can just leave the package there," she murmured softly. Thrasymachus blinked, feeling the stiffness with a new added weight, like his chest hurting for being unable to breathe. Or maybe he just forgot to. The two of them so consistently carried silence with them, that now, without Granny around, it seemed strange to here how much sound lacked when they were together. Thrasymachus put down the package in his silence. He looked up at Juliet's back once again, unsure what to do, wanting to leave, but knowing he couldn't just excuse himself out being so deep in someone else's house. And she didn't turn to acknowledge him yet, so he knew she wasn't done with him.

Instead, she took another step away, toward the center of the small room. He didn't. He remained right before the doorway, straight like a soldier. He watched her as she went to her desk, and her hands landed on something. She walked back with the canvas in her arms, and then stopped a few feet before him, and then she finally turned the canvas around. Thrasymachus's eyes widened slightly, and his left hand reached out to the brush strokes, though he stopped short of the canvas, not to harm the picture.

"It's beautiful," he murmured. It was sincere. Juliet smiled faintly as Thrasymachus traced one of the curves of the stroke, slowly, unthinkingly. "You've always been so talented." He looked over the deep blues, and the one ball of red that slowly expanded outward, and the strange, impressionistic world that had an odd, shimmering quality to it. Then he looked up to meet her eyes. "What is it?" he asked. He probably should have sounded embarrassed to ask such a blunt, ignorant question, but he simply sounded curious in his soft-spoken tone, like a child. Juliet smiled again, this time looking down at her work.

"It's the sky," she returned lowly, as though she was the one embarrassed, or at least bashful. She probably was. Thraysmachus's eyes widened slightly, as Juliet's own pair moved lower from her painting to the floor. "I remember... You once said that, in spite of yourself, you couldn't help but wonder--want--to know what the sky looked like. I wish I could give you the real thing--" She suddenly broke out in a nervous chuckle. "I don't know what the sky really looks like, I'm just being silly, I know -- but, I thought...I thought that...you know...till the day comes...I thought I could give you my sky." She looked very awkward. Thrasymachus tried to convince himself that whatever awkwardness he was experiencing now was only an extension of hers.

"It's for you, Terrance," she said, holding it out for him. "I made it for you. I hope you like it." Thrasymachus couldn't help his jerk reaction to step back with one foot, and then froze, somewhere between trying to smile and grimace.

"Juliet, it really is beautiful... and I really am touched..." No one had ever made him anything. Not since primary school, at least. But he still didn't know what he say. He really did like the picture, but... "I..." His tone softened a little, as well as his expression, as Juliet's weepy eyes shot up, nervously. "I--I wasn't expecting you to do that though. I--it was just a silly thought I thunk." He was actually surprised she remembered it, as he could hardly even rememeber having mentioned it to her. "I didn't mean for you to--" he tried to take a breath, "--You already work so much, I didn't mean to take more--"

"It's the only thing I've ever heard you want for," she interrupted him, looking back down at the floor. "I wanted to make you something." She finally looked up at him, and smiled. "Besides, that's hardly a reason. I don't work so hard--we all do. You do too. You're always working."

Thraysmachus felt stunned silent. He stared at her for a moment. It took a moment for his mind to catch back up and realize that he couldn't take it. Even if he didn't care about giving her more wrong impressions, or leading her on, or letting her waste herself trying to win him so he could use her and leave her, he knew he couldn't take if he wanted to. Though he did want to. But he couldn't admit to that either. "You're so talented, Juliet... thank you for your thoughtfulness..." He glanced away, not wanting to see her when he would speak his next words. "But I can't accept this."

"What? Why not?"

"I couldn't take away your artwork from you--"

"But I made it for you!"

"I--" He stumbled over the word. Then he shook his head. He knew he couldn't keep letting this go on. He was becoming too personal with these people. "Then I can't accept your feelings," he said quickly. The reaction was immediate.

Juliet froze, jolted by the response. "What?" she murmured after a while. She finally snapped out of it, shaking her head. "And what makes you think that--" she cut herself short, as though she realized she wasn't fooling anyone. Instead, she looked up at him woefully. "How did you know?" Thrasymachus was not going to go down that route.

"I am sorry," he repeated. "I don't feel the same way." This time he did begin to edge more away, looking to turn. "And so, I don't think it would be right for me to accept your painting. I wouldn't want to...give you any more false perceptions..." He paused, feeling worse for it as Juliet's mood continued to deteriorate. "I'm sorry," he repeated again, quietly. She said nothing. "I have to get going..." He had hoped she'd recover and lead him out, and put the thing behind them, but she didn't respond. "I'll show myself out," he murmured before silently slipping away.

It was needless to say that with Asila's unhuman hearing, the conversation was clear behind the paper thin walls. Heck, the eavesdropping must have been clear for Granny too, as she hadn't said anything during the duration, but just drank her tea and looked in the general direction of the room. It looked like she wouldn't be a great-grandmother this year after all. Oh well. When Thrasymachus entered the room, he nodded to Granny.

"Again, it's been a pleasure, Terrance," she said, feigning ignorance.

"Likewise, Madam," he returned. "But I'm afraid we're late now, we really must be going.

"I understand," she replied. She looked at Asila once more. "You kids make sure you come back to visit us, all right?"

"Of course," Thrasymachus answered for her, just to move things along. "We'll see you later."

"Good bye then," she said, as Thrasymachus turned to leave, expecting Asila to follow.

[Forsaken]

Asila took a chair across from Granny when she was offered tea, and spent the time slowly withdrawing into herself. She gazes forlornly into her cup, feeling uncertain and out of place, and just waits for it to end. Once the conversation had slipped into uncomfortable territory, she didn't look up from the reflective mirror of her tea until Thrasymachus returned.

Before she follows him back into the frigid streets, she looks to Granny. "Thank you for the fortune." She reminds herself to smile, and then retreats, sliding back into her concrete, cursed form as soon as she is out of sight.

When she is following in her master's wake again, she makes a feeble attempt at speaking. "Master, I..." The words failed her. She didn't want to bring up what happened between him and Juliet, believing that doing so may anger him. And she didn't want to reference her mistakes when doing so would just invite more misery. So, since the past was a poor topic, she made reference to the future. Taking a deep breath, she begins again. "Wherever we go next, I will not fail you." This seemed the right thing to say, the kind of thing a good Forsaken would say. Not a pitiful apology or plea for forgiveness, but a strong pledge. It might not correct her error or sooth his discomfort, but it relieved her desire to say something. Anything to cancel out her anxiety and unite her thoughts.

[Seven]

Thrasymachus had all but forgotten Asila , his head was so flooded with the thoughts of the little social disaster, till her voice breaking through the white noise of his thoughts reminded him of her presence beside him. He looked at her, for a moment with an expression that looked dumbfounded, before he suddenly smiled. It wasn't the Guardians sort of, "I am gracing you with my smile," kind of pompous smile. It was just a little upturn of his lips that conveyed some feeling of gratitude. "Thank you. I appreciate that." They may not have been elaborate words, but they were real ones. Again, they were not the fake lines of long-winded poetry most Guardians spewed out. They were just one thing one person would say to another.

It was only in after thought that Thrasymachus realized that that was beneficial to his ambitions. Because the truth was that he meant. There were never any real people in his life to so much as try to soothe over whatever hardships he faced (on the contrary, must seemed pleased to watch him struggle), and those that did, he could not allow into his life. They were people like Juliet, the baker, and Granny, who meant well, but didn't actually know him, nor could he allow them to. And granted, he couldn't let Asila--the lowly being--either, but at least, unlike the others, she would be semi-permanent in his life from now on, as opposed to nothing but a fantasy like any other.

In either case, he sets his sights back straight on the road before him, and his tone regained a bit of its firmness and strictness. "I think you did well, for the most part, in any case. A few mistakes, but nothing so dire. Walk close to me, and I shall explain more about these routes I make in the morning as we continue traveling."

[Forsaken]

They may have been simple words, but the sincerity in them made them seem remarkable and far more exotic than anything she had grown used to hearing from the other Guardians. She would have smiled if she had not been so surprised by the reaction. Instead, she could only look at him with wide frost-green eyes that expressed a wondering disbelief which wavered dangerously close to an alternate expression of friendly affection. Yet she put that aside, as she must, and picked up her pace until she was beside her unusual master. She moved in close enough that their coats would brush together as they walked, but carefully maintained the small distance between them so that there would be no greater contact than that of the fabric.

"Thank you, as well." She said softly in response to his assessment of her behavior with Granny and Juliet. Then she looks over at him with genuine curiosity. "So what are we doing here?" Suddenly, she sounds almost excited, as though expecting some sort of great revelation; something entirely unexpected. Which was only natural, since she could think of no usual reason for a Guardian to be out in the city at this time of the morning.

[Seven]

Thrasymachus' head swivels slightly toward her, and despite the sunglasses covering his eyes, she can see that he looks at her with a sort bemused skepticism, as though he couldn't believe her expression. And for a moment, it looked as though he might have smiled again. Instead, he just turns his sights back in front of him. "Honestly, it is nothing so interesting," he said, not having meant to mislead her into such a state of excitement. And as they continued to walk, he reached into his inner coat pocket, removed a map, and systematically began to unfold it. Once finished, he held it out, not for her to take, just to look at, and he began to trace the road on which they walked with his index finger.

"This is only one of many routes we will patrol most mornings. It's nothing terribly special, and its generally uneventful, but it does have its importance, and granted, I think that you--like I--will find that it is a fairly nice break from the rest of our activities. The fact of the matter is that neither Guardians nor Servants are really inconspicuous. Our human citizens would not address either of those groups as they would one of their own. And of course, not everyone is forthcoming with the information they know..."

For a second, he fell silent, sifting through the words in his mind, trying to choose the ones best suited to his explanation, and the ones most ideal for his circumstance. But his silence, however temporary, was still an indication that, on some subconscious level, he thought and worried too much over what he said. His tone was too firm and too serious, trying too hard and still less secure all the while. Unlike the other Guardians, though his words were smooth when spoken, they didn't flow with the same ease and happy indifference of his superiors, that came from beings who always knew in their mind that they were ultimately correct.

"I suppose you could call this an information-gathering mission." This time, when spoke, his voice was not more than a whisper, though just as steady and even. "Not everyday brings about valuable information--in fact, many don't--but people have the tendencies to speak to one another in hushed whispers if they heard or saw something strange. These things that they think are unimportant enough to report, or are simply to nervous to mention in more public spheres--we want to be there to hear them. We want to be the people they are whispering to. We play the roles of normal humans, but during these morning routes, we are spies."

[Forsaken]

This promise of morning walks are something the Forsaken can live with, even look forward to. In fact, she still felt strangely excited over all of this. She so rarely went out during the light of day, fearing the reactions of the people she had once considered her people so deeply that she physically could not force herself to step into the daylight, and it's subsequent crowds, when she was on her own. Still, fearing the day didn't keep her from missing it and she was grateful for this chance to feel human again. Or, at least, less like a monster. Human still seemed quite a stretch for her.

Speaking of which..."It sounds like I'm going to have to work on perfecting my...disguise." She says slowly, nervously. It was one thing to try that kind of stunt when she was caught up in the moment, held in the throes of inspiration, but on command? She didn't know if it was something she could always manage. Or, even if it was, what happened when her focus slipped? It could happen so easily. Nearly had twice while they had been visiting Granny and Juliet.

Her steps faltered, causing her to fall a step behind her master. "What I did back there...I don't know if it's a trick that can be depended on. It requires so much focus..." She hesitates, suddenly realizing that there was a good chance she was seriously over-estimating the role that her new master expected her to play in this. "Unless...you don't need me to directly interact with people at all? What is my role here?" She increased her speed so that she was once again walking evenly with Thrasymachus, turning her head toward him and tilting her gaze up just enough to try and catch his expression. At that moment, she was very human and earnest in her curiosity. It was unlike her. She usually tried to avoid everything that had anything to do with her role as one of the Forsaken. Futile though that effort may be.

So when a familiar old vagrant reached out and seized her arm as she passed, the switch back to Forsaken hunter was as jarring as it was swift. All of the innocent curiosity and uncertainty fled, chased away by predatory tension. Her pupils narrowed to slits, and the gray faded back to dazzling green. A low growl resonated from her chest as she turned her head to face the old man with gold in his eyes. She did not want to have to kill or capture him, but she wanted him to think she would if he didn't leave now.

"Be calm, child." He spoke with a raspy voice, a man wizened with age beyond his years. Time had not treated him well. This was the man she had saved from a Forsaken, an event that had driven her ascent into a briefly famous vigilante. It had been about five years since then, but he looked as though he'd aged two decades. He was dressed head to toe in warm winter clothing, layers in shades of brown and gray, but what little she could see of the skin around his wolf tinted eyes looked transparent and sickly.

A gust of wind howled past them, scraping through with chilled talons.

"I remember you, Ghost of Manticore. Even if your flame burns as low now as mine, I remember that you were hope incarnate for many, and my savior at one time. I want you to remember, too." His words came low and fast, spoken with great urgency. The grip he had on her arm was vice-like.

The vagrant had said his part. She had perhaps allowed more than she should already, and she had to make him stop. She yanked her arm out of his grasp so viciously that he would have fallen into her if she hadn't also twisted her entire body out of his reach. He caught himself before he fell to the ground, but only just. She felt like a monster for doing this, but she knew that she must. For his own safety. She wasn't the hero he remembered. Heroes had power and agency, and she no longer had full access to either.

She responded to him with severity. "Stop this. You cannot know, and these things you speak of are treasonous."

The vagrant straightened slowly and adjusted his scarf. Undaunted, he shifted his focus to Thrasymachus. "You too are more than you seem. I have seen you." The man said the word "seen" in a way that implied he could see into the hearts of people.

It was a peculiar stand off, and the people in the street around them were now glancing curiously in their direction.