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[center][sub]Interacting with: [@The Muse][/sub][/center]

[color=lightgray]There were certainly perks to the assignment she’d been given.

For once, she didn’t have to shiver herself to sleep on the hard benches of the guard tower, stiff-necked and half-frozen. No drafty stone walls and no biting wind sneaking through the cracks. Only the crackling of a well-stoked fire filled the air, in harmony with the soft hiss of lingering moisture escaping the logs.

Though certainly uncomfortable, the recruit had buried herself in the provided linens while still wearing most of her armor. No matter how much she’d wanted to rid herself of all of it--in particular the shoulder pauldron beneath her threatening to dislocate the very joint it was made to protect--the looming fear of being caught unaware and unprepared dulled the ache more than enough for sleep. She’d had far more than enough of the punishments disguised as tough-love lessons to let a luxury like comfort land her in trouble again.

Charlotte had built up a healthy dislike for the majority of Dawnhaven’s military leadership. In her mind, mistakes she’d made back home had been corrected far more fairly than in this science experiment of a town. 

Goddess damn it how she missed her home. Sergeant Ward would’ve taken the time to actually train her instead of throwing her into the fray. In the first few months of Charlotte’s training, Ward had been her anchor in the otherwise controlled chaos. He’d been stern, but never needlessly cruel. Constantly pushing Charlotte to her breaking point, but never meeting her failures with scorn, only correction. He had a way of demanding more out of every single recruit without breeding hatred.

If he were here now, he wouldn’t have simply ordered her away as a punishment, especially with an unknown blight-born murderer on the loose.

Sergeant Ward would have made sure she was ready to fight.

The echoes of raised voices and the sting of Aliseth’s reprimand still lingered in her mind behind closed eyelids, her frustration standing alone--but slowly faltering--against the slowly rising tide of sleep.

And soon enough, the currents dragged her consciousness into the inky depths of the night.

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It had been many moons since she’d slept this deeply. It was a silent and dreamless sleep, one devoid of the trials and tribulations of the day prior. Charlotte drank in every second of it. It was a rare moment of blissful ignorance, buried in warm blankets and protected from the elements by four, [i]very real[/i] walls. No one woke her in the middle of the night for a surprise assignment or for some cruel, humiliating hazing. There were no alarm bells that called her to action.

Just much-needed, undisturbed rest.

Even when Eris called her name, the only signs that the recruit was even still alive was the rise and fall of the pile of blankets on top of her, and the barely visible flaring of her nares with each breath. It wasn’t until she felt the sage’s hesitant hand on her shoulder that her icy blue-gray eyes opened, contrasting her darker, sun-kissed face. They were calm for a moment as she took in the cozy surroundings of the alchemy chambers, before opening much wider as she processed the warm hand above her.

A jolt of instinctual alarm shot through her body as her mind scrambled to identify her surroundings. Charlotte’s pulse surged and muscles tensed, the ghost of countless drills screaming at her to react before her eyes could even find the figure that had woken her.

But the moment disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Through the haze of her disorientation came the soft glow of embers in a fireplace, the warmth of the many linens and furs that she’d cocooned herself in, and the gentle--though slightly concerned--face of the sage. 

Charlotte let out a slow, slightly shaky breath as her eyes met Eris’ blanket-wrapped figure. A weak smile spread across her lips before being broken by a small yawn.

[color=A54343]“Good morning, Lady Hightower.”[/color] Her voice was quiet as she addressed Eris, before she felt the cold air tickling her cheeks and saw the gentle fog of their breaths. The recruit was still clearly unsure of how to act around the sage, struggling to maintain formality while not totally walling off being friendly. It was a balance Charlotte had never been good at, and one she hated maintaining. It felt unnatural and fake.

[color=A54343]“H-here, let me get the fire going again.”[/color] She stammered a bit, her nerves flaring up inside. The realization hit her hard, she was talking to the [i]lead sage[/i]. A member of [i]nobility[/i], one that by her superior’s instruction, was to receive help with whatever she needed. In a panic, Charlotte quickly clambered off of the couch with blankets in tow, almost tripping over her own sword as she made her way to the dying embers that remained in the fireplace.

[color=A54343]“I do apologize to my lady for my actions yesterday… and for falling asleep when I should have been protecting you… … … and for…”[/color] she trailed off for a moment, desperately searching for words, [color=A54343]“I swear to you it won’t happen again.”[/color] Her apology was fast and unprepared, flowing out like the sputtering water of a broken tap. She forced her attention on the fire as if it was life or death, not yet daring to face Eris.

As the flames licked at the newly added logs, Charlotte slowly stood in place and let the blankets fall. Turning around, she paced a few steps closer to the sage before standing with legs slightly spread and hands clasped behind her back.

[color=A54343]“Please forgive me, Lady Hightower. Recruit Hawthorne, at your service."[/color]
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