The Color Purple

((OPEN, but do check the recruitment thread))


Another day, another crushing defeat.

Lorelei stood in the surprisingly well-lit shop, her shoulders slumped as she looked over what almost certainly wasn’t purple magicyte. The teen had sought the illusive piece of crystal for days now, scouring the endless multitude of Radasanth’s stalls and shops. The best result she had gotten up until this point was a cackling laugh, the worst an earful of shouted curses as she was chased out of shops by bearded men with bushy eyebrows and weird body odors.

From the few more cooperative ones – old grandfathers who patronizingly called her my child and lectured her about meddling with forces she couldn’t possibly comprehend – Lorelei had learned that magicyte wasn’t exactly illegal in Radasanth, but wasn’t exactly legal either. Legally, it could be sold and bought as long as its provenance could be provided, but such officially approved magicyte was in too high of a demand to ever make it to shops. Hence, most of magicyte that did make it to shops came by way of smugglers, and was usually sold under the counter and only to a certain clientele. From what she had gathered so far, Lorelei certainly wasn’t amongst that select number. She had almost lost all hope of acquiring the accursed thing when she came upon Dolgen’s Emporium.

Both the shop and the owner were distinctly different from what the teen had observed in her search so far. Most businesses that peddled magical items looked less like shops and more like personal studies, with their shaded lights and grumpy, uninterested old men looking more keen on getting you out of their abode than suffer your insolent patronage. Dolgen’s was nothing like that. The shades were drawn back from the huge window that faced the street, letting in the crisp light of the spring morning that revealed shelves upon shelves of trinkets and twinkling baubles, spread around haphazardly with no obvious order to them. It looked like a place that had everything, but at the same time a place where you couldn’t really find anything.

And Dolgen himself was no different. A flamboyant man in his early thirties, he dressed in ostentatious colors, wore a ring on every finger (all of them magical, he insisted) and looked more like someone who would sing ribald songs and court ladies of ill repute. He dubbed himself The Curator of Curiosity, his shop The Treasure Trove and addressed Lorelei as Little Princess. Most of it was for show, of course, a spectacle meant to dazzle the gullible, but not all of it. Lorelei could sense that there was no true magic in the rings Dolgen wore, but there was no doubt that the man was a sorcerer of some sort. And while the Treasure Trove looked more like a junk heap, she could also detect that there were actual magically potent items sprinkled throughout the Emporium’s inventory. And when she had asked why that is so, Dolgen had simply responded: “Those who know what they’re looking for will find it.”

Well, she had certainly known what she was looking for when she had first entered the shop yesterday. And unlike all those before him, Dolgen had neither ridiculed her nor sent her away with a tongue lashing after she had asked about purple magicyte. Instead he had offered her a devilishly handsome smile and a wink and said: “Purple, eh? Purple packs quite a punch, Little Princess. Drain you dry if you’re not careful. Some say that it can even suck the soul right out of a person. Now, you wouldn’t want something like that to happen?”

“Mister,” Lorelei had said to the man, her face suddenly far too serious for her fifteen years of age. “I’m counting on it.”

Lorelei hadn’t bothered explaining to the magician that she didn’t believe in a soul, at least not in the spiritual kind that the preachers prophesized to their pious audience. But there was an essence, a measure of life to all living things that amounted to more than just the sum of flesh and bone and gray matter. Those acute to it could sense it, certain events could sap it, those with malicious intent could downright destroy it, and if her research was correct, purple magicyte could trap it. And if it could be trapped, it could be tracked, and she definitely needed to track someone down.

Seeing the determination in her eyes, Dolgen had told her to come by tomorrow, but now that she did, Lorelei knew there was little more to his talk than hot air. The collection of purple crystals were spread on a velvety cushion in an ornate wooden box, and none of them resonated with magic. She hovered the splayed fingers over them once again, just to make certain, then shook her head.

“That is not purple magicyte,” the teen sorceress said, dropping her hand. They always tried to swindle her. In the precious couple of years Lorelei had spent with her father before his disappearance, she had accompanied him to the markets several times. And the thing she remembered the most was that everyone had been so respectful towards her old man, all smiles and jokes and, most importantly, fair prices. Nobody had wanted to double-cross the big man with a sword. But a skinny teenager who – and here she was perfectly honest with herself – didn’t know exactly what she was doing was fair game for all, it would seem.

“Is that so?” Dolgen asked, leaning leisurely in the throne-like wooden chair. “Tell me, Little Princess, did you ever see purple magicyte?”

“No.”

“Well, how can you tell it’s not real then, huh?” he asked, perfectly smug and smiling that smile that would’ve been charming if the man in question wasn’t trying to sell her a bunch of useless crap at premium price.

“Because if it were, I wouldn’t be able to do this!” Lorelei said. She grabbed the largest of the crystals and brought it up. As she suspected, nothing happened, no unstoppable force draining the life out of her. Just the uncomfortable edges of the thing cutting into her palm.

Dolgen didn’t seem surprised. “Ah, yes. Well, what can you expect at such short notice,” he said with a dismissive shrug. He leaned forward a bit in his chair and pointed his index finger at his customer, his eyebrows raised. “But I still think you’ll be very interested in buying it.”

“And why is that?” Lorelei asked.

“Because of the knife,” Dolgen said. His devilish smile stretched a bit further as the fingers of his hand closed into what looked like a fist.

“The knife?” Her face scrunched into a quizzical frown, her thick eyebrows dropping low. It took a moment for Lorelei to realize that his hand wasn’t exactly a fist. More as if the man held an invisible...

Something sharp and pointy poked between her shoulder blades, sliding through the fabric of her cloak and tunic with ease and pricking her skin. Dolgen got up from his chair slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, empty hand still pointed at her.

“What...What do you think you’re doing?” the teen asked, panic and sweat washing over her in a wave as her eyes went wide with surprise. She froze almost completely, not just her lithe body, but her thoughts as well. An experienced adventurer wouldn’t have been surprised by this, would’ve probably predicted it and saw Dolgen for the sack of hot air he really was. But for Lorelei was still quite green at the adventuring game.

“Whatever do you mean?” the villain on the other side of the stacked counter said. “We’re merely trading.”

“I’ll...I’ll report this to the Watch,” Lorelei managed to squeeze through her clenched teeth, afraid to even move too much.

“Oh, you shouldn’t do that. Because then I have to tell them that you tried to sell me all this smuggled magicyte. And try to guess who they’ll believe. I’ll give you a hint: It’s not you,” Dolgen whispered with a mischievous wink.

“Bastard,” was all she got courage to say under her breath. Tears started to well in her eyes as they usually would in times of great distress, a trait she most definitely didn’t inherit from her father. She hated this show of weakness, struggled with all her willpower to prevent it.

“Now, here’s what we’ll do,” the magician said, lackadaisically walking around the counter to face Lorelei. “You’ll give me your money, and then you’ll take your crystals and run back to wherever you came from. That way I don’t have to make a mess in my shop and you get to live another day. How’s that for a deal?”

Yes, that was the easy way out. Cut your losses and forget about this foolish quest that was obviously too big for her. Run away with tail between her legs and make peace with the fact that she was weak and totally unprepared. She was only fifteen after all. Shouldn’t have been doing this at all. Should’ve been going to school, getting courted by boys with first wisps of facial hair. Should’ve been at home, with her loving family. A thousand excuses to give up flashed through her head, and none of them rang true. It was her pride that stood against them all, that stupid Ravenheart pride that kept her father banging his head through so many walls in his life. And though she had her mother’s figure, Lorelei was still mostly her father’s daughter.

“No,” the teenager said simply, with no emotion in her voice. Her eyes focused on the man in front of her, her pupils constricting as she called upon the Steed spirit. “I think I’d rather make a mess.”

Before Dolgen had a chance to react, she unleashed the full power of the Steed spirit in all directions. The shop exploded. Thousands of items were sent flying and ricocheting through the little shop, clanking and shattering in an ear-piercing din. The malicious proprietor of the Emporium was sent tumbling backwards over the counter, crashing against the far shelf before getting showered with his stock from a thousand different directions. A chunk of his inventory was sent flying through the front window of his shop, blasting out into the street in twinkling spray of metal and glass. In a matter of seconds, all around her was reduced to piles of wood and glass intermixed with what was left of the Treasure Trove. Lorelei herself was taken aback by how much damage she had managed to cause. She had used her magic before, but never in such a closed space with so many unsecured objects around. In such an environment it almost looked like she was standing in the center of a crater of an asteroid that just struck the ground. Such destruction should’ve scared her. Instead it brought a smirk to her pale visage.

Dolgen’s not going to like this, she thought. As if the magician heard her thought, she could hear him shuffling in the far corner of the shop. Lorelei thought it would not be prudent to stick around and discuss reparations with the man. She made her way through the rubble swiftly, every footstep a crunch as she made her way out through the broken window.

The crowd was slowly gathering around the mess by the time Lorelei was out. A few were browsing through the evicted goods, but most just stared at the destruction and the girl in the grey cloak that came out of it. She was still trying to figure out an explanation to offer the onlookers when Dolgen’s voice cried out from inside his wrecked shop.

“Thief! Seize her! Seize the thief!”

For a moment Lorelei considered explaining the situation, waiting for the City Watch and letting them sort out the mess. But then some people started to detach themselves from the crowd with clear intention to apprehend her, and she remembered what Dolgen said moments before about trust.

And then she was running.

The note was pinned to the cork-board outside of John Mardin's butcher shop. It fluttered on the breeze that swept down the busy street, amid sale fliers, job requests, and wanted posters. On a hectic intersection in Radasanth, such papers could be seen by hundreds. This particular letter, however, was different. It was intended for only one pair of eyes.

Quote:

---

J.H.
Your father's debt is due. Settle, or we tell what we know.
D.

---

Josette Hawkes felt the blood freeze in her veins. A sound that might have been a gasp, or might have been a whimper, escaped her as she read the fancy script one more time. The mere fact that the note was written to her, and displayed so publicly, horrified her. It horrified her nearly as badly as the threat itself. A lifetime ago, a demand from Dominik, one of the city's most notorious loan sharks, would have petrified her. Now, after years of traveling and training on her own, he meant nothing to her. Neither did her father, or the debt that he owed. Her reputation, her freedom - that was what she truly cared about. It was all she had. And if Dominik knew the most damning of her many secrets, he could surely have her killed. Or worse, imprisoned.

Though her hands still trembled, the raven-haired knight schooled her expression back into the rigid, unyielding mask of strength and stone. She tore the paper from the board, shoving it deep into the pocket of her breeches as she paced, on a hunch, to the board down the street. A similar note was pinned there as well. The next hour was spent stalking the city, yanking papers from each board she found. The job did nothing to soothe her, but it did give her time to think.

A barked shout from a nearby storefront tore her from those troubled thoughts. The man's rings glimmered beneath the bright sun as he jabbed a finger toward the crowd, swollen to capacity with the mid-day rush. An initial glance in the direction revealed nothing, so Josette asked, "What did the thief look like?"

Perhaps the owner of the Treasure Trove believed her to be a member of the City Guard, based on the iron armor she wore. Or, perhaps he was just desperate enough for the return of his goods that he would confide in anyone. But after only a brief look at her, he adjusted his gaudy robes, and said, "Female, brown hair. Stole something of immense value, both monetary, and sentimental. I must have it back!"

A performance better suited for the stage. Regardless, Josette nodded, and merged into the sea of people. Corone, the great melting pot of Althanas, sported inhabitants of all walks of life. There were men, women, and those whose gender was impossible to determine. Of those who were clearly female, hair colors were even more diverse: blonde, brown, red, black. A woman with no hair at all turned her long, scaled, reptilian face to Josette and snarled upon feeling her gaze. The knight offered no apology, but turned to continue her search elsewhere.

Even as she moved into a brisk trot, continuing to scan for the brunette, she wondered why she took action at all. She was not a member of the Guard, nor did she owe Radasanth anything. Had she not decided to visit a master swordsmith about her mysterious Ma blade, she likely never would have returned. The place already haunted her dreams, and visiting in her slumber was more than she cared for. The mere fact that she was wandering among its tall buildings again, for the first time in nearly five years, was enough to turn the knot in her gut. So why, then, did she bolt into a sprint when she spotted a fleeing female? The thief's brunette braid snapped behind her like a whip as she barreled from the Treasure Trove, the frantic movements all the confirmation that the knight needed. Whereas her target still slowed to move around people, unshakeable manners a remnant of some polite upbringing, Josette simply shoved through the crowd. Elbows and shoulders forged a path for her, and despite the barked cries of pain and protest, she did not pause to excuse herself.

Was the same force that slowed the thief, and required her to utter small apologies as she bumped into onlookers, present deep within Josette? An unwavering force that determined right and wrong, and made it difficult to stray from the path? The brunette had difficulty being impolite, while Josette had difficulty ignoring a crime in progress. Or, at least, that was the best rationale that she could come up with as she closed the distance. And as the thief ducked into an alleyway, a ripple of satisfaction bloomed outward beneath Josette's iron breastplate. Though she wished every day to forget the dirty streets of Radasanth, she recalled enough to recognize the dead-end.

Thirty feet of trash-littered stone separated the two women when Josette finally entered the alley. The brunette had her back turned, palms pressed to the opposite wall as if to will it out of existence. The metallic hiss of Josette freeing her sword finally drew her attention.

As the older girl's blue eyes found the younger's green ones, she paused, blade half-drawn. A child. The figure who stood before her, the thief, was merely a child. Fourteen or fifteen years, if Josette had to guess. The same age that she had been, when she had last seen Radasanth.

There was something in the girl's face, in the way that she carried herself, that suggested she had seen hard times. Josette, most likely, had exhibited similar tell-tale features after the death of her father. But the pure terror, as raw and deep as anything that Josette had ever seen, could not be hidden from those emerald eyes. Slowly, deliberately, the golden sword was returned to its sheath. And though Josette's voice was gruff as she issued her demand, the weapon was not drawn again.

"Return the items that you stole immediately."

Fear. Lorelei Ravenheart had had her fair share of lessons on the topic of fear. The Grey Monks, in whose midst she had spent the first thirteen years of her life, insisted that fear was a mere distraction, a knee-jerk reaction of the mind that could be conquered with focus and meditation. The books she had read on the matter spoke of it as an animalistic instinct that any sentient, self-preserving organism acquired at some point in their evolution. Even her father had his own take on fear. According to Letho Ravenheart, fear was the killer of rational thought, a beast that, if left unchecked, ended up ravaging you. But if you managed to leash that beast, you could make it a weapon that drove you forward. Yet Lorelei found all these definitions lacking.

For her, fear was looking down the edge of the blade and not knowing how many breaths you have left to breathe.

She had gotten a taste of it at Dolgen’s, but back there the blade in question was a knife, it was pressed against her back, and that somehow made the threat less prominent, easier to deal with. And even then Lorelei had a hard time breaking free of the paralyzing shackles of the fear that washed over her like an unstoppable tide. But now, with the sword brandished at her face with deadly intent, the full brunt of fear struck the teenage sorceress. She barely even noticed the woman behind the blade, barely even registered the stone-cold frowning visage bearing down on her from the blunt side of the weapon. Because the woman didn’t matter. What mattered was that she had a sword out, and maybe Lorelei could deal with her and maybe she couldn’t, and the fact that there was a possibility that she couldn’t, that she might end up skewered on that impartial sharpness, was making her knees weak and her heart race as if it wanted to break free of her chest.

Was this truly how her quest end, brought to bloody finale in some littered alley before it had truly began? Even when the raven-haired knight sheathed her blade, Lorelei wasn’t certain in the answer to that question. Because even if she survived this encounter, how many more tribulations lay before her, how many more hurdles, possibly harder than this one, still awaited her? How did she ever think she could actually do this? In the avalanche of grown men and women of the world, she was but a pebble, insignificant and irrelevant to all.

“Please, just...just let me be. I didn’t do anything,” Lorelei pleaded. She didn’t want to get into another altercation, especially not with someone who had an air of a weathered warrior about them despite a youthful face. Yet she also didn’t want to be brought back to Dolgen, who would certainly only exacerbate the situation and pile all the blame on her back.

“You have been accused of thievery, young one,” the armored woman said, taking a step forward. Though there was a soldier-like belligerence to her movements, the firm precision one acquired after years of living by the blade, there was at least a semblance of softness in her piercing blue eyes. “You must return what you have stolen and come with me.”

“I didn’t take anything!” Lorelei exclaimed, copying the woman’s movement only in an opposite direction. But a single step backwards only pressed her back to the mossy stone and there was no more backpedaling to do. “Just leave me alone. Please.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. This accusation must be addressed.” The knight’s gruff words were accompanied with another step. Half a dozen more would get her in grabbing distance and apprehension and whatever fate that creep Dolgen had in mind for her. And while a part of Lorelei – that frightened, still very much fifteen years old part of her – could almost make peace with that scenario, it was the Ravanheart blood that reacted. The spirit of the Archer took over, and the translucent bow and arrow materialized in Lorelei’s hands, surprising her almost as much as the other woman. By the time Lorelei pulled the barely visible bowstring to her cheek and aimed the ice arrow at the knight, her opponent had the sword out again, only this time her posture was slightly bent and almost feline in its predatory tension.

“Stand back! Let me pass!” Lorelei demanded. Though it took no actual physical strain to pull the magical bow, the young magician could barely keep her hands from shaking. She had hoped that the threat of being shot would’ve rattled the woman, made her retreat, but all hopes of such a thing were dashed almost immediately. Taking a low guard, with her right foot forward and her body turned sideways so as to present as small target as possible, the black-haired woman yielded not a single pace. And any sympathy that might’ve been there in those penetrating blue eyes was gone in a flash and replaced with a calculated keenness.

“You don’t want to do this,” the knight warned her, taking a single step to the side, then another, forcing Lorelei’s jittery hands to follow her movement. And she was absolutely right. Lorelei most certainly didn’t want any of this. She didn’t want to go on some harebrained quest to find her father. She didn’t want to be lost in the sea of callous people who would sooner spit on her than help her. And she certainly didn’t want to be right here at this specific moment, seconds away from either murdering a complete stranger or being murdered by one.

Tears came again. This time Lorelei couldn’t will them away, and with her hands holding the bow, they came trickling down her pale cheeks as she struggled to keep her focus on her pursuer who, unlike her, almost certainly killed before. Could she do such a thing herself, loose her arrow and let its trajectory decide whether she would be a killer or killed today? And all of that over a busted shop and a few broken baubles?

No. Despite the hardships she had endured and those she was almost certainly yet to endure, Lorelei still believed that life is worth more than that, both her own and that of her current foe. With a defeated whimper, she let the bow and arrow dissipate into thin air and let her knees finally give in, making her slump down to the ground with her back against the wall and her head sinking to her knees. Her hands worked hastily to brush the treacherous tears away.

“Why...why is this happening? I didn’t...didn’t do anything,” she said in between sniffles. She reached beneath her cloak – a movement that caused the knight, still in her battle-ready stance, to flinch momentarily – and brought out her satchel, which she tossed to the woman unceremoniously. “Here, look. This is all I have. Take what you want. Just...just leave me be.”

There had been hesitation before, faint traces of it that lingered on the edges of her conscience. Now, however, watching the girl's display had that small seed sprouting into full-fledged doubt. What had once been a tickle grew into a fist on her heart, a knot in her stomach. Not right, not right, not right. Her head filled with the warning, throbbed with it, as she stared down at the whimpering child. Was this not the same warning that had flashed in that little mountain town? That had screamed at her as she plunged her sword into body after body, ending life after life? That had been dwarfed by the sound of her orders, which she had repeated in her head like a prayer to atone for her sins? She was a good soldier. She was an obedient soldier.

The girl's cries echoed in the narrow alley, somehow impossibly loud against the roar of the busy city. Josette's expression remained hard, unforgiving, and a complete facade. There was no clue as to the war that raged within her; even her hand remained steady as she motioned to the other woman. "Stand up," she commanded in a voice that betrayed none of her uncertainty.

At this, the brunette's expression hardened as well, and pinpricks of anger dotted her tone as she shot back, "I've given you all I have, and you'll still take me in?" There were new tears now, hot with rage, coursing down her flushed cheeks as those medicine-bottle green eyes narrowed accusingly.

Josette met them, her own blues cool as she drew a measured breath. "Stand up," she stated once more, though this time, her words held a strange softness. A request, not an order.

And the young woman did so, still shaking as she climbed unsteadily to her feet. Perhaps the change in tone had reached her, or merely the understanding that there was little else she could do. But those eyes remained hard, defiant, even if nothing else about her spoke of defiance. The pair stood that way for a moment, facing the other as if in preparation for a duel. Only Josette knew that there would be no further violence, if it could be helped.

"That was interesting magic you used," the knight stated conversationally.

The other woman blinked once, twice, and then threw out her arms in sheer exasperation. "What do you want from me?" she cried. "To put me in jail? Or to talk about my magic?"

The mixed signals were unfair, Josette supposed, and unkind. But anger was good, and some of that fire was dancing in the other woman's eyes again. She would take rage over tears any day. "I want you to pick up your satchel," Josette continued, nodding to where it lay among the discarded trash, "and for you to tell me the truth."

Yet she already knew the truth. Or, enough of it to determine that the situation was far more complex than a mere robbery. Josette had seen tears before, from men and women confronted with their various crimes. Most were simply upset at the notion of being caught. Others were frightened by the consequences of their actions, sometimes imprisonment, sometimes death. This woman, who the shopkeeper had damned with his hurried accusations, matched none of these descriptions. Rather, it was true confusion that rolled off of her in waves, as potent and unmistakable as the stench of the alley's garbage. She was either an exceptional actress, or a victim herself. Josette was not a betting woman, but if she were, she would place her money on the latter.

The truth. People always asked for it as if it was the easiest thing in the world to deliver, as if one was supposed to just blurt it out without concern over repercussions or consequences. The truth was that Lorelei didn't know this swordswoman that stood before her. Currently there was no clear intention in those wintry blue eyes to pin Lorelei to the wall with her blade, but that alone didn't account for all that much given her initial readiness to give chase and the fervor during their flight through Radasanth streets. She could still be one of Dolgen's lackeys, or even a member of the City Guard, presently out of official uniform but still obligated to protect the denizens of Radasanth and uphold the city law. And if she was either, there was still a possibility that her pursuer was merely trying to get more information before pinning the crime on Lorelei. Needless to say, the sorceress was reluctant to spill the beans, scarce as they truly were.

“Are you with the City Watch?” she asked in between sniffles, precariously approaching her dropped satchel and lowering herself to one knee. The leather thong that usually held it closed had gotten untied at impact and some of her belongings were scattered in the surrounding trash. Lorelei fished her items from the pungent litter, hey eyes constantly shifting between the woman above and her things as she stuffed them back in her pack.

“I don't see how that's of any importance right now,” her armored pursuer said, hands on her hips now as her frowning eyes observed the quarry.

“He said that the guards wouldn't believe me even if I went to them. Said they'd sooner believe his filthy lies.” This last word was delivered with considerable venom as Lorelei returned a dented water flask to her satchel with considerable force. Several other knickknacks she threw in without much thought as well – a pair of leather hair ties, a jagged piece of flint. But when she came upon a threadbare piece of dun cloth that might've been blue once, she picked it up carefully and after a quick shake to rid it of the trash sticking to it, she folded it and found a place for it in a separate compartment of the bag.

“Who said that?” the taller woman demanded. Standing back up to her eye level with the satchel back on her shoulder, Lorelei found it hard to get any clue on the face of the black-haired woman. Whatever thoughts ran beyond those piercing eyes, they seemed forbidden from coming to the front.

“Dolgen. The owner of the shop I...uh, blew up,” Lorelei said. Though there was nothing comical about her current situation – indeed, chances were still great that this woman would insist of bringing her to the authorities – Lorelei couldn't prevent a minuscule smirk from creeping to the edge of her lips. She had never been a particularly belligerent soul, and while she had scarcely had the time to reflect upon it at the time, but by the Thaynes seeing that room implode made her feel good. No, good was perhaps not the right word. Righteous seemed more fitting. She reckoned that was how her father had felt all those times he brought down criminals or saved damsels in distress. The memory of her father combined with the fresher one of Dolgen flying though the air as his shop collapsed chased some of the confusion from Lorelei and replaced them with somewhat higher spirits.

“I see. Well, I'm not with the Watch. So why don't you tell me what's really going on?” her pursuer said.

“Then why did you chase me? Just happened to be there and decided to play the hero?” Lorelei allowed herself a bit of gumption, trying to turn the tables of the interrogation. The stronger woman dismissed her attempt momentarily, the hard look in her eyes only growing harder.

“I'm the one asking the questions here. So tell the truth. Now!”

“Very well. I wanted to buy something from Dolgen, but he tried to trick me, so I exploded his shop and ran away. Is that good enough?” Lorelei quick-fired the words at her captor, offering the very thinnest of nutshells. She knew her explanation was far from satisfactory and was certain that this woman would ask for more, but now that the sword was sheathed and no immediate threat loomed over Lorelei's life, she felt some of that Ravenheart defiance reassert itself.

All she got in response was a tired sigh and a long blink as her pursuer held back her annoyance. “You're testing my patience, girl. Specifics.”

Lorelei took a deep breath and exhaled audibly through her nose and threw her hands up again. “Fine,” she finally surrendered. Obviously there was no getting out of this mess without telling at least a portion of her tale. Looking around briefly, she found a relatively clean barrel with a firm lid on which she planted her behind. The other woman didn't follow suit. The most comfort she allowed herself was leaning her shoulder on the nearby wall.

“I've been scouring the local shops for a magical item...”

“A magical item,” the swordswoman's tone was clearly dissatisfied with this general description.

“Fine. It was purple magicyte,” Lorelei said after another weary exhale.

“Magicyte?” The word finally broke the stony visage of the raven-haired warrior, making her raise an eyebrow. “That's potent stuff. Dangerous too, from what I know of it.”

“Lady, swords are dangerous as well, and yet they sell them to just about anyone.” The teenager didn't necessarily mean it as a direct jab at the person questioning her – her aversion to the ridiculous ease of access to things that ended human lives was more general in nature – but given the current situation it could certainly be considered as a slight.

“Swords don't have the potential to kill hundreds of people in a matter of seconds,” came the brusque retort.

“Sure they do. You just need more of them,” Lorelei said. “Look, be that as it may, magicyte isn't illegal as far as I know. And I didn't try to acquire it through a shady deal. Dolgen said that if I came around today, he'd have some in shop. But when I came around he tried to sell me some cheap crystals painted purple. And when I called him out on it, he put a knife to my back. Look!”

Rotating her upper torso while still seated, Lorelei offered her back to the woman, presenting the rip in her robes that Dolgen's blade made. For a brief moment she could hear no motion, but after several second passed she could feel the rough texture of the gloves passing over her spine. Despite being fairly certain there was probably no harm to come from this woman, her touch combined with the memory of those seconds when her life hung on the greed of one man made the sorceress shiver.

“I panicked,” she finally said once inspection was done. “I panicked and I lashed out as hard as I could, hoping to get him away from me. And it worked. Worked better than I expected, to be honest. And seeing that Dolgen wasn't too pleased with how well it worked, I ran before I got in even more trouble.”

The silence filled with measuring gazes ensued. Again Lorelei could read nothing in those eyes of a perched hawk that observed her with eerie neutrality. The teenager tried to replicate it, turn this whole contest in a battle of wills, but with so much happening in such a short time span, with her heart still beating at an accelerated pace and the flashes of moments from very near past where her life hanged by a thread, she was unable to keep calm.

“So what are you going to do to me?” Lorelei asked.

“Why do you need purple magicyte anyways?” the sword-wielding maiden asked her.

Lorelei allowed another one of those minuscule smirks. “I just really like it's color.”