4th of Ashan, 716
The Bathhouse
As much as she was a child of fire, Ciaran disliked the day. To the people of Andaris, and truly much of the world, she was known only for the color of her hair. When she'd first escaped her prison with Jaedus, the Aukari had not been aware of the prejudice against her kind. Ironically, she'd been shielded by it, though still treated as though she was a beast more than a person. In much the same fashion, she grew to learn that the human kind despised her people and what they stood for. She still remembered the name on her parent's lips when she was young; Faldrun. His name was a weight she could never escape from, no matter how much she proved to others that she was not like them.
This prejudice and hate had not deterred the Aukari, however. It emboldened her. She was determined to be looked at as more than just another cog in the machine. Her life in the Seekers had afforded her more ways to learn and to grow. Her introduction into magic had not been an easy one, but it had been the drive she needed to discipline herself, and to reign in the fire that burned in her veins. Often times, that fire was expelled in different ways. Chasing, seeking, hunting. Andaris was a vast city with a vast array of people, which proved both a blessing and a curse. With a simple shawl, she could hide her hair and assume the guise of a simple bookworm. But today had been more than just scouring the depths of libraries and alleys. Today she had hunted for Pene Bout, a traitor... and a former friend.
Nothing came from her struggles and her searching. Street rats had bitten their tongues and scurried like mice in the fields. When the sun began to fall and her feet ached from walking, she parted ways with Aelius who had preferred more scholarly pursuits for his leisure. Ciaran, instead, diverted toward the Bath House. It was here where she'd come a few times a week, more for solitude than anything else. As much as the Aukari attempted to reign in her demons, she couldn't help but have her thoughts wander toward Pene's fate, and what would become of her when she was finally apprehended.
Thankfully, the large, regal baths were relatively empty. Ciaran truthfully preferred it this way. Small talk was something she didn't particularly excel at, and she did well without the blatant stares her sun-touched locks afforded her. The steam here was thick and the only sound was the gentle lap of the water against the marble ledges. At only five silver, this was the extent of Ciaran's luxuries and damned if she wasn't going to enjoy it. Sticking one foot into the water, she eased herself down to the seat, letting out a satisfied sigh. Aelius' loss, she thought smuggly, sluicing water along her arms and into her darkening hair.
She only hoped the silence would remain.
The Bathhouse
As much as she was a child of fire, Ciaran disliked the day. To the people of Andaris, and truly much of the world, she was known only for the color of her hair. When she'd first escaped her prison with Jaedus, the Aukari had not been aware of the prejudice against her kind. Ironically, she'd been shielded by it, though still treated as though she was a beast more than a person. In much the same fashion, she grew to learn that the human kind despised her people and what they stood for. She still remembered the name on her parent's lips when she was young; Faldrun. His name was a weight she could never escape from, no matter how much she proved to others that she was not like them.
This prejudice and hate had not deterred the Aukari, however. It emboldened her. She was determined to be looked at as more than just another cog in the machine. Her life in the Seekers had afforded her more ways to learn and to grow. Her introduction into magic had not been an easy one, but it had been the drive she needed to discipline herself, and to reign in the fire that burned in her veins. Often times, that fire was expelled in different ways. Chasing, seeking, hunting. Andaris was a vast city with a vast array of people, which proved both a blessing and a curse. With a simple shawl, she could hide her hair and assume the guise of a simple bookworm. But today had been more than just scouring the depths of libraries and alleys. Today she had hunted for Pene Bout, a traitor... and a former friend.
Nothing came from her struggles and her searching. Street rats had bitten their tongues and scurried like mice in the fields. When the sun began to fall and her feet ached from walking, she parted ways with Aelius who had preferred more scholarly pursuits for his leisure. Ciaran, instead, diverted toward the Bath House. It was here where she'd come a few times a week, more for solitude than anything else. As much as the Aukari attempted to reign in her demons, she couldn't help but have her thoughts wander toward Pene's fate, and what would become of her when she was finally apprehended.
Thankfully, the large, regal baths were relatively empty. Ciaran truthfully preferred it this way. Small talk was something she didn't particularly excel at, and she did well without the blatant stares her sun-touched locks afforded her. The steam here was thick and the only sound was the gentle lap of the water against the marble ledges. At only five silver, this was the extent of Ciaran's luxuries and damned if she wasn't going to enjoy it. Sticking one foot into the water, she eased herself down to the seat, letting out a satisfied sigh. Aelius' loss, she thought smuggly, sluicing water along her arms and into her darkening hair.
She only hoped the silence would remain.
