exsiliumlogs | fight to save the living, fight to threaten the world

Entry tags:

fight to save the living, fight to threaten the world

Date & Time: All week during the age changing.
Location: Out and about the city.
Characters: Elissa Cousland and YOU.
Summary: Someone's just been dragged back to the very worst moment in her life. Now, back in Exsilium, she's not so open and friendly.
Warnings: Language at least. Will update otherwise.

Nothing was as it should have been.

The burning of her home and the slaughter of her family was fresh in her mind, the rush out of Highever with her dog and Duncan all too clear, but the city before her was nothing close to the woods around her city. It was dank and dark, raining, and there was something almost metallic and toxic in the air. But perhaps it was the smell of death in her nose that made her feel ill and the strange new town merely offset her balance. She couldn't be certain.

But there was something altogether familiar and distinctive about where she was. Shop names, buildings, faces she could swear she'd seen before. It didn't seem possible or right. A fever dream? Perhaps I'm having a nightmare. Cruel, truth be told. Why couldn't the night previous be little else but a horrible dream? She prayed it was so. If she could return home and everything would be set right...

One glimpse in the window of a shop was all she needed to dispel that argument. She was messy, a smudge of ash on her cheek, hair tangled and out of its tie. Though her cloak was new and made of fine material, her boots and clothes were covered in dried blood, a testament to her battle from the night prior. It couldn't have been a dream. She covered her face with her hands. "Oh, Maker..." she whispered. Her dog nudged her side and she knelt down to press her forehead into his back. "...We'll be all right," she murmured, more for herself than for him. She just needed to get her bearings, that was all. She just needed a little time.

[ooc: ACTION OR PROSE, UP TO YOU. Name the time and place, as she'll be just about anywhere and everywhere to run into people.]

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Time had only made things stranger and more complex for Artanis. It was one thing to arrive in a strange place; it was quite another to discover a child you have not yet borne. She needed to think and when she needed to think she needed to move. So she found herself wandering through the streets of Exsilium with no real destination in mind, going wherever her feet took her.

Until she ran into Elissa. Not literally, of course. Even distracted as she is, she's far too observant for that. But the sight of her was enough to stop Artanis in her tracks, though not for the reasons most would think.

It was familiar. Dreadfully familiar. The finery caked with blood and ash, the tangled hair. Is that how she had looked when...? Unconsciously, she reached up to her own cheek to wipe away a blood stain that was no longer there.

That hadn't been there for months. A shake of her head drew her back to the present. How long had she been staring, wrapped up in her own thoughts? It was shameful. She stood straighter, trying desperately to appear as her father's daughter should appear- regal, commanding, in control. Then she approached, stopping a short distance away. She knew that if any had approached her suddenly after the Kinslaying, she might have lashed out from pure instinct. A woman who looked like that had to have adrenaline coursing through her veins. A nod in greeting came easily enough. Words were more difficult. What would she have wished said to her?

"You look in need of rest. And perhaps a hot meal."

Well, first things first, she supposed. Maybe she'd think of something comforting later. If only Melien were here instead of her; she'd know exactly what to say.

Ezio had already grasped a bit of an idea of the place and its layout. Repetition always made things easier to learn, he knew that.

What he always discovered on every repeated turn was a new person, a new store he hadn't noticed before, something different. It was great to always find something new. In the current case, it's someone new, a woman with bright red hair and a giant dog. He would've noticed that dog earlier had they been there sooner. It's a strange looking dog, truth be told.

So of course he has to go investigate.

When he makes his way towards the redhead, he stops for the briefest moment. Dried blood, messy hair... things Ezio was starting to get used to. Why would she be in such a state? He didn't get it, it made no sense.

"Are you alright?"

The market was pleasantly buzzing, not so loud that it was unbearable, but Elissa felt almost safer among the crowds. She still stood out, she realized, and was making some headway into finding a shop to change clothes and perhaps clean up...but the looks people were giving her said otherwise. An older man informed her that he'd seen her before and that she had a place to stay. Where that was, however, she couldn't guess. He directed her to the apartments, a looming building she was in no hurry to go to. Not when it meant being closed in, alone, and unaware of her surroundings.

Atticus led them to the front of a small strip of shops, one that sold clothes on the far end, and a food stand nearby. The thought of a meal was equally revolting and tantalizing, and she stood with an uncertain stance, watching the people mill about. Elissa didn't want to stare too long, afraid she'd outlive her welcome, but a voice caught her attention and she turned. The sight of the tall elf was enough to give her pause, though there was something about her that seemed welcoming...and powerful. The dog beside her perked his head up but gave no growl of warning. Perhaps she was safe?

(As Howe had been, her wary mind told her. No one could be trusted.)

Elissa frowned slightly. "I am in need of many things, messere, but most of them cannot be given to me." She kept the venom out of her tone. She ducked her head briefly, as if bowing. "I am a new arrival and my bearings are scattered at best."

Elissa was equally as curious about her new surroundings, though she did not have the aptitude Ezio did for the rooftops and her adventurous streak needed a bit of rest. She was too engrossed in the types of shops, the clothes people wore, and the kinds of food that were being sold. Her eyes were everywhere, a certain paranoia to the way she scrutinized instead of admired the few things that stood out to her. She didn't have the energy for fighting. She needed to avoid anything - or anyone - who seemed threatening.

The man who approached her had a curious accent, one that reminded her of her sister-in-law. She turned to him with an inquiring look and then realized he was remarking on her state of dress.

Flushing briefly with shame, she reached up to rub her palm over her smudged cheek. "I am...lost, you could say." She didn't want to directly answer his question, still uncertain whether she deemed him safe enough to badger with her own inquiries. Atticus sniffed at Ezio and seemed to find him adequate. "You aren't a native of these parts, are you, messere?" If his clothes were any indication...

Ezio shook his head at the girl's question. He definitely wasn't a part of this place, and he could tell that neither was she. What catches his attention further now is the dog being so calm, so well-behaved around her. The girl must have trained it well. Without hesitation, Ezio kneels in front of the dog, debating whether or not to pet it as it didn't seem intent on attacking.

"No, I'm not," Ezio replied. "You aren't either, si?"

"No, I'm not," she says, and though it's a quiet admittance, there's nothing timid in her voice. Atticus continues to sniff at Ezio, eventually settling back on his haunches and allowing the man a closer look. His large tongue droops out of the side of his mouth while he has a look at the stranger.

Elissa briefly rolls her eyes at him. Embarrassing beast. "Gentle, boy," she murmurs. But one word is all it'd take for him to attack. She's giving Ezio the benefit of the doubt. "You sound... I can't place your accent, ser."

Edited 2013-01-24 03:34 (UTC)

Barnaby didn't particularly like Exsilium.

It's a big city, rather like Sternbild, but decrepit where the latter is polished and equally full of strangers. But while this place held its own mysteries, it had no answers for him, no opportunities to finally find the right person hidden away in a chance broadcast on television or getting gossip from a well-connected person. It had a strange Hero he both recognized and didn't, ten years removed, who'd said he had answers with such a stupidly pitying look on his face that'd made Barnaby run from whatever he might have to say, feeling sick.

He's literally running now - a habit, maybe a bad one, that he's had for a while - as if that might do anything or at least make him feel less claustrophobic and caged, when he collides with another person, stumbling backwards.

And knock against her he did, sending her stumbling forward. She nearly went down on one knee, surprised at the collision and the force behind it, but her foot went out to steady her as she whipped back around. One hand had already closed around one of the long daggers at her shoulders, hidden beneath the cloak. Atticus got between them, jowls pulled back in a snarl to reveal a set of teeth.

For a moment, the look in her eyes was both murderous and frightened, adrenaline briefly kicking in. There was fire and fight there, too, a defensiveness she wanted to use as a front for her lack of protection and her uncertainty. At length, her harsh expression eased, though her hand did not leave her blade.

It was a moment before she spoke, gaze fixed on him. "Was it your intention to cause a scene?" she asked, the question almost cold in tone.

He caught himself and steadied his balance as she turned on him, but his attention was distracted by the dog, making him take a step back despite his desire to avoid looking weak. The fact that the dog chose to stand there rather than jump at him immediately gave him the impression that the one really deserving his attention was whoever he had the misfortune to run into. His heart rate was already up from the run, and this whole situation kept him tense and on edge; it was a conscious effort to keep himself from automatically reaching for his Hundred Power, one that just barely succeeded. There'd be time for that if she or the dog chose to attack, and he'd surely be faster.

At her question, he made an incredulous sound, some indignation filtering into his tone: "I should be the one asking that."

He scratches the giant dog behind the ear for a few moments. Nowhere had he seen a dog like this, as much as he may try to place it. "Italian," Ezio answered, looking up at the redhead. He'd already gotten many questions and remarks along the same lines. How could people not know Italia? Madness.

She huffed quietly. "Yes, because I was the one running like a madman in the market." Atticus' growl intensified with her tone and she reached out to touch his back, calming him. They may have already been getting a few looks but she didn't want her dog to get into any trouble. The animal snorted at Barnaby and glanced back at his master for approval.

"Were you running from something or were you simply not looking where you were going?" she asked, voice softening from it's harder edge. She glanced the way he'd been running and could see no pursuers. For that, she was thankful; she didn't need that sort of attention.

"Forgive me. It sounds almost Antivan." And it's a welcome sound, truth be told. Familiar. She gives him a hesitant smile, one that brightens just a little as he ruffles up her dog. Atticus seems all too pleased at the attention, whining encouragingly. "You're so embarrassing," she mutters softly. "You're supposed to be a war hound, remember?"

"A war hound?" he asked, continuing to scratch Atticus. "He looks like it. But I think I've never heard of 'Antivan.' You're from somewhere else, then?" That's the only answer to it, really. Plenty of people here are from, well, everywhere.

Though Ezio was happy that her spirits seemed to lift a little. He won't ask, but someone like her shouldn't have such a sadness on their face.

"I understand." Artanis nodded, keeping her eyes on Elissa, trying to read her posture and her tone. She certainly didn't want to intrude where she wasn't wanted, but something about this woman pulled at her. Maybe it was just the familiarity- empathy, compassion. But it just felt wrong to ignore the state she was in.

"Perhaps I might offer my assistance? It was not long ago that I was in your place." Double meanings, even here. It would be easy enough to assume that Artanis had simply meant she was also a recent arrival, but... that wasn't quite it.

She laughed softly, the sound tapering off as quickly as it came. "He doesn't act like it sometimes. Whimpering and carrying on when he wants food." Atticus just kept wagging his tail. He could understand every word they said, of course, but Ezio had his undivided attention.

"Yes, I'm from...elsewhere." No one knew of Thedas. She wasn't certain if that was advantageous or not yet. "Antiva is a country to the north. It's warm and much more colorful than my home, where power lies with the merchants and their assassins. My..." Here, she paused. "My brother's wife came from Antiva."

She tugged at her cloak, pulling it a little closer around herself to at least attempt to hide the state of her dress. Blood had dried on her tunic, none of it her own, and she didn't want strangers to believe her a killer. If this was to be a temporary home, she couldn't get herself involved in trouble so quickly.

Elissa bit her tongue to keep from saying 'No, you don't understand', well knowing that the woman was trying to be kind. And she was an elf? Was she one of the Dalish she'd heard so much as a child? She didn't know. Shifting on her feet, she looked up at her. "I... I would be grateful for your help, serah."

Getting her own bearings again was feeling more and more unpleasant. There was a sinking feeling of being stuck, of feeling out the boundaries of this place that made her feel sick to her stomach. Out one cage and into another, the size hardly mattered at this point.

She hadn't been walking long before she saw Elissa. It was the dog, really that caught her eye. People walking about were common enough, dogs running about were also common. Mabari? Much less so. It was enough reason to look at the one walking with the mabari more carefully, and to speak up once she saw the dirt and blood.

"Are you hurt?" She asked while tapping her staff softly on the ground to get her attention.

He rose back to full height, still scratching the war hound behind the ear. Merchants? Assassins? Sounds entirely too familiar. "Antiva, Italia... Maybe we aren't so different, after all. My home is very colorful, very beautiful."

"I would be surprised if they were the same but they at least sound similar enough." She brushed some of her hair behind her ear, a little too aware of how she looked suddenly. "I've never been there before, unfortunately, so I cannot tell you anything else, messere." Her sister-in-law certainly never wore clothes quite like his. That was a certainty.

He scowled at the jab at his running, maybe even more so because she had a point. The fact that she calmed her dog made him relax though, if a small bit, at least realizing she may not be as desirous of a confrontation as he'd first though.

"No one's following me," he said, understanding her look behind him, then adds somewhat grudgingly, "I wasn't looking. Sorry."

Edited 2013-01-27 20:18 (UTC)

"A shame, I would've liked to know more," he responded. "But, are you alright? We should find you a place to clean up or get you new clothes."

Elissa was far too engrossed in her surroundings at first to take notice of the woman who almost passed her. When she spoke, she turned back, taking a moment to register that she was, indeed, being addressed. She blanched and looked down at her clothes, tugging her cloak a little more securely around her.

"No, I'm not hurt." The few cuts she'd gotten were minor and healed over. She didn't want anyone fussing over her behalf. "Just need some better clothes." And to gain a bit of courage and go to this apartment that she apparently had here.

"I'm fine," she said with a startling firmness. If she said it enough times, perhaps it would be true. "I've been told that I have a place to stay here but...truth be told, I don't recall having been there." And she wasn't too trusting of the people who'd spoken to her about it.

She rubbed briefly at her arm. "If you know of a place where I could get cleaned up, I would appreciate it. Clothes can come later."

She watched him warily for a moment before she accepted his answer, nodding. "It's...It's all right," she said, tentatively attempting to be gentler in her manner. "I'm glad it was simply an accident and nothing more." He couldn't have been much younger than her. He didn't need trouble dogging his steps.

But that led to another question. "...Why were you running?"

"I can take you someplace, if you like," he offered. "There are rooms, many of them, nearby, or the doctores who can look after your wounds."

"It's not mine," she said. She glanced down at herself. "The blood. It's not mine." What few cuts she had on her had healed, though it had only been a few hours ago that she'd been fighting.

"If you could show me where to go, I would be very grateful." She wanted to trust him. She would just need to tread carefully.

It was too late for the blood to go unnoticed, but the gesture was enough to keep Artanis from remarking upon it. Instead, she simply nodded and gestured for the other woman to walk beside her.

"You may call me Artanis."

It was rare for her to drop her titles like this, but both compassion and curiosity compelled her to make the stranger as comfortable as possible. She might learn more this way.

Artanis. It didn't sound familiar to her, not from Ferelden. She watched the woman for a moment, as if trying to decide if she wanted to trust her. There was something about her, a radiance, that could not be ignored. Was she a mage? She couldn't begin to decipher it. It did not matter, she supposed. Not right then.

At length, she nodded. "I'm Elissa. Elissa Cousland."

He opened his mouth, then shut it.

"Its - a hobby," he blurted out, but it's an extremely weak excuse and he knew it, had it written all over his expression. Leaving it at that was an option, but he felt humiliated enough to admit, shifting uncomfortably and looking down -

"It's like I don't know that you can't just run out of this place, but..."

"A hobby." Well, she'd heard of stranger ones. Perhaps he thought of it the same way she thought about riding: freedom, the thrill of a rush. But he didn't elaborate on that part. Elissa shifted her weight onto her back leg and tentatively nodded.

"...You can't. But try telling yourself that." She offered him the smallest glimmers of a smile. "You can pretend, for a little while, that it's possible to leave and that nothing can keep you here." In Highever, she would sometimes run off for an afternoon just to be away from the stuffiness. She'd return that evening, of course, but even an afternoon away from the guards was enough.

He looked back up as she finished his sentence, caught a little off-guard by the - well, kindness. He didn't smile back or anything, but there wasn't any residual anger or rudeness left in his expression either. Her explanation earned a nod, because it was similar enough to how he'd felt. A little optimistic, though, pretending rather than just running because there was nothing else to do, hoping the walls of claustrophobia and not belonging could be held at bay for just a little while.

"Yeah. It's better than nothing."

The dog had relaxed enough that he eventually sat beside his owner, hoping that whatever altercation might have occurred was now over with. He scratched at a spot behind his ear with his back paw.

Elissa glanced down at him once, though her attention went back to Barnaby. He didn't smile, which was a shame, but she didn't imagine he was in an easier position than she was at the moment. She couldn't ask for him to brighten up; even her smile was strained and sad, which disappeared after a few moments. "How long have you been here?" Had he just arrived?

"A pleasure." The empty courtesy was out of her mouth before she could stop it. It sounded wrong- hollow, given the circumstances, but she didn't know how to correct it, so she let it be. Granted, the next thing she must say was just as insensitive, but she couldn't see a way around it.

"Forgive me, but... you are not injured, I trust? I have some small skill in healing, if you have need of it." Well, it was better than asking outright if all that blood was hers.

"A few days," he said after a brief moment counting.

It didn't sound that long, but it felt longer. A few days could mean a lot, that he's missing so much no matter what people say. There was a lot he could be doing in a few days, but instead he was stuck here. Not that anyone would be missing him or care - well, maybe Aunt Samantha. Maybe Mr Maverick. Both both of them were used to not hearing from him every day, so maybe they wouldn't think anything of it now.

The shade of red that sprouted on her cheeks was faint but still there, embarrassment born of pride. She had seen, of course, but who could not? The mud on her boots mattered little, nor did the cloak she snatched as she and Duncan fled. It would hide her hair, he said, and it would keep her concealed should any allies of Howe be looking for her. And it was in the cloak that she hid her shame and her agony, buried in the fabric she kept close.

She did not weep. But before this woman, she felt like she should.

Elissa swallowed the knot in her throat and shook her head. "I am not injured." The cuts on her body had already healed, small lines of discomfort that would eventually disappear or scar. They mattered little. "The blood is not mine." There was no reason to hide it.

Artanis gave a quick nod and glanced away, trying not to meet Elissa's eyes. There were times when she was very keenly aware of the power of her gaze and this was one of them.

"Then I will ask no more of it."

She was grateful that the woman did not meet her gaze and, eventually, she dropped her own. Gathering what shreds remained of her dignity - what Howe hadn't taken from her too - she fought to control any outward emotion she might have displayed. Her voice sounded small, fragile, when she spoke, but her request was necessary. "You mentioned something about food, my lady?"

Though she hated to feel weak and powerless, she knew she needed to eat. Nothing would come of this day if she did not try to help herself.

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fight to save the living, fight to threaten the world

IDK sometime while Elissa's still messy, somewhere around the market?

a little time after she's first arrived still in the market

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