Vixen fixed the man with a curious eye, wondering where the idea of someone going to Akashima had come from. Certainly, there had been a person who said that such a journey was to take place, today, near this time, with an experienced caravan ... and she could not see any other sets of wagons and bridled horses claiming a description such as that. Perhaps her initial investigation had led her to find an idiot just that other day when the claim had been made. Or perhaps someone had misheard 'Akashima' for 'Raiaera'.

"No."

The word still rang in her head, as she continued to stand there, listening to this man converse on.

As he let the last syllable slip from the two thing lines that were his lips, Vixen refocused back into reality. So he had a protege, and one that would not be welcome in Raiaera. As one already experienced with the fair cities of the high elves, Vixen found herself immediately curious at that suggestion. What was it that made the apprentice so disliked in such a place? The most likely thing was that she was a drow, but having had fair experiences (more than fair) with a drow already in this world where she was now free, Vixen simply let her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. Race did not bother her. After all, she herself was half goddess and half a creature similar to a vampire. Minus the hate of garlic and the actual ability to walk in the sun.

The man seemed to smile a little - too cheery for Vixen. But the demi-goddess forced her plump, pale lips into a curving smile and nodded. Twisting around, and tightening her grip onto the strap of her bag, she followed his direction without a word. Instead, she headed in a direct line not unlike a crow with purpose, straight for the open stable door. The hot smell of fresh dung, mixed with the rural reminder of hay filled her nostrils unpredictably. Breathing short and narrow, Vixen tried to avoid the stink, and remain with the fresher, farming scent as she ducked past a groom leading a bay stallion through the great double doors, metal shoes ringing on the cobbles with each plod.

Pulling her possessions closer, Vixen took a stride into the stables, eyes scanning over the double lines of stalls that stretched for at least twenty metres before her. Blinking, she let her eyes flit past the elegant white mares, the bold brown shires, and the black colts. Her eyes drifted past a young boy trying his best to shoe a mount, and landed on a young dark-haired woman apparently busy with a horse.

Vixen stepped aside to allow a gelding past and coughed.

"Excuse me ... are you ... a protege?"