[hr][center][h3][b][color=orchid]Solange [/color][/b][/h3]
[sup][sup][sup][color=pink][i]Run![/i][/color][/sup][/sup][/sup][/center][hr]

Her dress was hiked up to her knees, the billowing skirt bunched together like the petals of a bouquet, as Solange focused on putting one foot in front of the other and praying to whichever gods were watching that she didn’t stumble over the excessive amounts of fabric. She had not run like this since she had come to Gullian. Behind her she could feel the presence of a ghost . The woman with black and silver hair screamed for the constables, her hand that was dried with blood wetting itself yet again as it pressed against the base of her neck. Ahead of her Solange saw the uncertain future as the white sails of the Pinned Seal unfurled as shouts from aboard drowned out her own call to the captain and mixed with the cacophony of reality and memory coming from behind her. She did not turn back to hazard a glance. 

Solange kept running. Orders from the Sheriff to halt were ignored without a second of reconsideration—perhaps next time order a halt before pinning the skull of one of their companions to the inside of his rudimentary coffin. Her breathing grew heavy. The gangplank was almost right in front of her. She had nearly reached it when the cannon fired overhead, the blast so deafening that Solange’s hands instinctively let go of her dress and covered her ears. The long, bundled up fabric fell loose as she pressed on, her foot stepping on the hem of the dress. Her already racing heart nearly exploded as she felt herself begin to trip. Her hands reacted faster than her brain, snatching up her dress yet again as the explosion still rang in her ears. She felt some fabric tear as she did an awkward sidestep, but she kept her balance and kept going.

She only stopped once she made it to the top of the gangplank, two sailors hoisting her aboard as the ship began to shift forward. She stepped clear to allow room for the others to jump on as she finally took a moment to catch her breath and look at the pandemonium left behind. Black smoke swirled on the wind as a small fire burned on the street and began to engulf the cart, a man laid dead in the street with an arrow punched so deep in him that he looked like he’d been stabbed by a quill, and the top of a church stood smoking where the belltower once had been. Solange’s mouth gaped at the nameless bystanders, who seemed so small from the deck of the ship, trapped beneath the rubble from the tower. Some were squirming, others weren’t. Laughter echoed in her ears as she watched ants scrambled to lift the bell off of a person, a sailor pulling her back away from the firing line of the Sheriff’s men . 

The captain was busy hollering orders. Once they were out of the bay and actually safe she would seek out a proper introduction, but for now Solange found herself an out of the way place to stand as the sailors set to work. In her hands she clutched the burlap sack she’d snatched from the streets and pressed it against her chest, pulling it away as she felt herself prodded by something sharp. She did not inspect further, her eyes too busy darting to and fro as they watched the men aboard the Pinned Seal work. As the adrenaline faded she was struck with the realization that she was only comfortable around sailors when they were too drunk to stand and being watched by oversized bouncers and hidden blades in the shadow. She craned her neck and looked for the others, trying her best not to appear shaken.