Aynur sat in a quiet corner of the inn she had been staying in. She had been there for a week now, two days of which she was away from Tristain who had other business to attend to. All in all, it had been uneventful. Aside from the first day where he dragged her in to have her cleaned up, fed and had stopped her suicide attempt. No one spat on her. No one tried to kick her out. No one had called her a rat or trash, narry an insult was heard. Still… She was nervous and it was evident in the way she presented herself.

Her unseeing milky eyes stared down at the cup she was holding. Steam wafted into her face bringing with it a pleasant floral scent. Some kind of earl grey with a dash of milk. Her small hands clasped the cup tightly, in fear that it would be wretched from her. Her shoulders were slumped down and her arms held close to her body, scrunched up to make herself appear as small as possible. If she were invisible, she would not be bothered, Aynur had no ability to turn invisible, so this was the next best thing for her.

Long brown locks, silken and soft, had been tied back into a loose ponytail that hung over the front of her right shoulder. Somehow, with a lot of time, and care, Tristain had managed to brush out all the knots and mats within her hair. Her clothes weren’t dirtied and sullied. They did not stink of the street, of piss and dirt. Instead of her old tattered clothes Aynur wore a simple emerald green cloak over a white cotton shirt. The clothes weren’t lavish by any means. But they were clothes that were intact

All in all, she looked relatively normal. That is, if you ignored the scars alike to claw marks across her face, her milky eyes and the evident burns that peeked out from beneath her sleeves on her right arm.

Aynur knew she didn’t have to wait for the man. He was not bound to her in anyway, much as she was not to him. However… Aynur was plagued with a sense of guilt mixed with appreciation. That man, that tin-can man had no reason to help her and yet he did. She wanted to help him, to return a favour but how? What weight would she put on her own life, not once..but twice when it was worth oh so very little and his actions were with oh so much more.

Her shoulders rose then fell with a heavy sigh as Aynur turned the cup to and fro in her hands. Stories and songs...it was all she was good for.

It seemed everyone around her had such strength. They could fight, they could wield magic. And what could she do? Sing a few damned songs to make someone feel all fuzzy and tingly. She couldn’t even make herself feel all warm and good.

“Useless…” She mumbled.