[color=8882be]“You don’t look like most common refugees,”[/color] 

Emil was drawn from his thoughts at the sound of the voice. Taking a quick check of his surroundings, he soon after realized that he had to look downwards to find the person who was speaking to him. It was a young woman, around his age with a rather pale complexion and dark brown hair. She was commenting on how abnormal he looked when compared to the others- which was admittedly true. He bore more arms than the average refugee, he probably knew how to use a weapon better than the average refugee, and he wore armor- which while not a full set of plate armor, was still more than the average child fleeing for his life.

At the same time, a quick look at the individual speaking to him marked her as something different from the assumed idea of a "common refugee". The confidence and ease in which she walked and the manner in which she spoke, to the dagger prominently shown sheathed to her hip. Nothing about this woman screamed "fleeing maid" or "former shopkeeper". No, she looked easily more traveled and used to hardship than the average citizen, but she was clearly not a soldier or a laborer. Which meant she had to be something else.

Her weapon was worn, but not heavily used, her stride was quick and easy, but not heavy like his or his brothers. Her dark clothes were well worn in, but functional and out of the way, and didn't match the regular clothes of any regular trade or profession- chef's wore aprons, and artists wore smocks, but this woman wore a dagger.

[color=lightblue]"I suppose you're right."[/color] Emil replied with a shrug, his armor making a small clink as the metal plates shifted against themselves. [color=lightblue]"I doubt I appear like the average refugee."

"But then again, neither do you."[/color] Emil countered, gesturing to her manner of dress and dagger. [color=lightblue]"Few refugees walk with such confidence and a blade strapped to their hip."[/color]