Garvanna sat to one side in the tent, lovingly applying the extravagant and intricate powder and paints around her eyes. She had a soft smile on her face - the thrill of performing yet again had slowly begun to pulse through her veins and churn her stomach in anticipation. It was one of her true loves, performing in the tent with the crew she had been with for years. With each stroke of her many make-up brushes, she felt safe enough to gently raise another into the air to help her apply her colours symmetrically. Today, for the performance of her life, Garvanna had picked a wash of ocean, azure and periwinkle blues with eyeliner that matched the night sky. It stretched and swirled softly from the flicks at the corner to then smooth below her lower eyelid. The mirror in front of her hoverered securely, angling as she turned her head slightly from side to side as needed.
She was well aware of the Scepter's quivering. The thought of finally completing, or perhaps starting, their true mission sent electrical sparks of excitement down her spine. This was what she had been waiting for for all these years... perhaps, if she survived the impending war she felt would explode as soon as the Scepter found it's target, she could also find Marcia. In her mind, there would only be one continent. One whole continent instead of the two broken halves... Only one continent to search for her dear sister. It had been years since she had last layed her eyes on her and she very rarely left her thoughts for more than a few hours at most. Just as well versed in swordsmanship as Garvanna was, she wondered how much she had improved over the years, forced to take care of herself. She pondered on how much she had changed...
If she was even alive, that was.
Garvanna shivered, the brushes sudenly zooming from her face so she would not smudge her art. She blinked a few times, then once satisfied she was done and dry, stood up and packed away her paints, powders and her myriad of brushes and applicators. Tidying them into a carved, wooden box, she opened the chest she had been sat on and packed them away safely. Inside contained most of Garvanna's meagre possessions; she travelled light and with little hassle. She took out her two sheathed swords, sliding the belt they were hooked onto around her waist and buckling it up securely. Her greatsword was next, swinging the strap over her left shoulder to keep it safe in place. The leather looked unsightly against her skirt, boots and plain, cotton shirt, but for now she didn't care. Now was not performing, it was promotion time. She would change into her gear later.
Callan's voice rung out and into her ears. Garvanna turned, her luxourious culrs bouncing around her face and shoulders. She stepped forward, one foot in front of the other with an elegant sway of her hips. "I'd be happy too, Callan. Do lead the way."