• Solo • in the woods ii.

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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Race: Yludih
Profession: Doctor
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in the woods ii.

6th ASHAN 716
When Imogen awoke, Ateka was fluttering about in the small homestead they shared, preparing an early meal before the sun made an appearance, and getting her things together to beg for bread and coin in the city. She ought to be attending school, which was mandatory for children of her age, however Imogen permitted her to run truant. So far, it had worked to Imogen's benefit; Ateka was out of her hair for several breaks, she came home with something nearly every day she was out, and there had yet to be guardsmen knocking on her door.

Breakfast was a meagre affair of tasteless porridge and the dry husk of a week old loaf of bread. They ate in silence, Ateka fascinated by the howling wind beyond their walls, and Imogen deep in thought.

Her reverie featured Anessa Ieness, for the most part. The woman had been abrasive and crude, explaining the wrongs enforced upon her by the tax collector noble, Peake Andaris, and she'd chewed on the stories regaled upon her with a metaphorical grain of salt. She was long tired of thinking about the two of them, her lack of empathy regarding a fellow commoner's struggles with the nobles mitigating any comfort she could offer the woman. Imogen was of low class, a small speck of dirt on even the middling class's boots, and stood no actual chance against a noble. Unfortunately, that wasn't to say she couldn't stir up the pot, and in her reverie, her thoughts drifted from Anessa's allegations towards the vengeance she wished to have upon her assailant. A plan of "attack" was slowly formulating, a method to go about some form of retribution, both for her customer and for her time.

She needed to go into Andaris.

"Ateka, do you want to come with me today?" She asked her daughter, lowering her bowl. Ateka, a wide-eyed doe caught in the hunter's sight, looked at her mother with a sparkle to her eyes, and the unfurling edges of a small smile. "Get your things on."
word count: 360

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