Asha huddled in the shadowed corner of the alleyway, her back pressed against the cold, rough bricks. The rain had stopped, but the dampness lingered in the air, chilling her to the bone. She wrapped her thin, tattered cloak tighter around herself, but it did little to ward off the cold. Her stomach growled, a painful reminder of how long it had been since she’d last eaten.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she furiously wiped them away, frustrated with herself for breaking down. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. She knew that. But the exhaustion, the hunger, and the overwhelming fear had finally caught up with her. A sob escaped her lips as she buried her face in her knees, trying to muffle the sound.
She had been running for months, ever since she fled the Eth. Kirkwall was supposed to be a place where she could disappear, but it was just as harsh and unforgiving as everywhere else. The few strangers who had helped her were kind, but their charity only lasted so long. Now, she was alone again, with no plan, no strength, and no idea of what to do next.
For someone who had always prided herself on being smart and resourceful, this felt like the ultimate failure. Asha’s heart ached with the longing to go home, but she knew that was impossible. She couldn’t go back—not after everything that had happened.
The thought brought a fresh wave of tears, and this time she didn’t bother wiping them away. She was too tired, too broken to care anymore. She just wanted to disappear, to stop being hunted, to stop being afraid.
But deep down, Asha knew she couldn’t give up. Not yet. There had to be a way out of this. She just needed to think, to come up with a plan... but right now, all she could do was cry.
Kirkwall was home, for now. Marc and she had finished their mission into the blight infected area for evidence and research for Rosalie, and then it was on their way to the next city they could find that wouldn't have too many people that remembered either of them too terribly closely. They did want to travel incognito as much as possible, so she was cutting her way through back alley-ways, trying to make the market so she could pick up a couple of different food stuffs for when they set out again in the morning.
Her heavy robes kept her warm against the damp air, the rain having fallen nearly all day, draping the Low town in a bit of fog, between the warm ground and the cold air, it would be the perfect weather for an ambush, she noted to herself before she caught the thought. She was no longer a mage hunter, she needn't be, she had done everything she could for the past decade to distance herself from that life, to try and atone for what she had done, to others just like her. So when she heard the sobbing ahead of her, she broke into a run down the alley way.
Fog parted before her, giving her visibility of only a few feet, even as she felt the current in the air as she started to cast, not knowing what she was going to come upon, but wanting to make sure she was ready, when the crouched figure came into view -- smaller, a woman. She immediately dropped her connection to the spells, and her lyrium cored dagger returned to the sheath Eithne hadn't realized she had pulled it from.
Are you hurt? She asked, realizing she probably looked like a wraith, emerging from the fog, in all black, tall and dark herself, so she pushed her hood back, the rushed updo she had done this morning immediately showing her sharp features. She kicked herself for how harsh it had sounded, before she took a slow step closer and softened her tone, Do you need help?
If it had been a man, she would have already melted back into the fog and gone another way, but it didn't mean she could let her guard down completely. But, she was fairly certain she was faster than a crying.. teen? Poor thing looked young, and weary from the road, certainly no one she would have a problem with, hand to hand, or with magics, it was safe, she didn't need to be this suspicious.
Asha blinked through her tears, startled by the sudden presence of the woman emerging from the fog like a shadow peeled away from the night itself. Her heart skipped a beat, a flicker of fear sparking inside her at the sight of the tall figure draped in black. But then the woman pushed back her hood, revealing sharp features and a gentleness in her eyes that wasn’t reflected in her earlier, more guarded tone.
Asha sniffled, wiping her face on the sleeve of her cloak, trying to gather herself. The woman had asked if she was hurt, if she needed help, and for a moment Asha considered saying nothing. But then something shifted inside her, and she tilted her head slightly, her large, soft eyes meeting the woman’s.
You’re not a wraith, are you? Asha asked, her voice soft but laced with curiosity rather than fear. She wiped at her nose absently, a small, almost whimsical smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she regarded the stranger. I’ve heard that wraiths only come out when the fog is thick, like now. But they usually don’t ask if you need help…
She tilted her head to the other side, studying the woman with a look of fascination, as though pondering her true nature.
But I suppose if you *were* a wraith, you wouldn’t tell me, would you? It would ruin the surprise.
Asha’s mind drifted for a moment, her words seeming to come from some distant place, but she quickly brought herself back to the present. She shook her head, the faint smile disappearing as reality settled in once more.
No, I’m not hurt... just lost, I think. Her voice trembled a little, betraying the exhaustion beneath her words. Lost in more ways than one.
Asha’s gaze dropped to her lap, her fingers picking at a frayed thread on her cloak. She didn’t know if this stranger could help her—if anyone could, really—but something about her presence felt… steady. Safe, even. Asha wasn’t used to feeling safe anymore.
I suppose it’s silly to sit in the middle of an alley, waiting for things to get better, she mused quietly. But it’s easier to think in the quiet, don’t you think? The city can be so loud sometimes. I like it when it’s just me and the fog.
Her eyes flicked back up, meeting the woman’s again with a kind of serene acceptance. Do you like the fog?
She knelt down, and then slid into a sitting squat, resting her elbows on her knees as she laughed, No, not a wraith, but I felt like I must look like one coming out of the fog like that, funny that we had the same thought at the same time. The girl looked not much more than a teen, certainly not into her twenties, unless she had very good genes, which Eithne couldn't really fault anyone, she had remarkable genes too, middle-aged and no where near the lines of a woman her age should have, interestingly enough. Something to ponder another time.
Everyone gets lost now and then, and crying about it, or waiting out something to be a little bit better is just natural, what has you lost, little bird? Lost enough to make you scatter into the best place to think? Eithne smiled gently, nodding at the idea that the city, there in Kirkwall, was way too loud to think sometimes, and Lowtown wasn't much better of a place to try and hide away to get away from the sounds in. The City itself was pure noise, always had been, as long as Eithne could remember. But with the question of fog, Eithne had to stop herself from saying that she enjoyed it for how easily it had hidden her work in the past, how it made it easier for her to sneak up on prey and dispatch them without much fuss.
She did like the fog.
It's nice to get lost in it, when you need to have a think. Something about not being able to see anything but the grey, and it's cool mist makes it feel inviting. It was only partially a fib, it wasn't why she really liked the fog, but it was a more acceptable answer to someone so young, whom, Eithne assumed, hadn't really seen too much of the world yet. Hadn't been completely corrupted and disabused of the notion that there was still good, and pure in the world. And even if the girl seemed a bit ethereal in her thoughts, her manner of speaking, Eithne wasn't completely sure she was fully aware -- she'd seen it before, someone who was caught too much between here and there that the here suffered sometimes.
So, lets circle back to that part where you're lost in more ways that one, you feel like talking about any of those? Marc would be proud of her for not just walking away.
