"Woul' ye like a blanke' or somethin'?" The green-skinned man - Domhnall, she think he'd said his name was - had obviously taken an interest in her wellbeing, which had definitely improved Angora's chances of remaining with the group. Even if it was purely out of courtesy, it was nevertheless welcome, and Angora could perhaps sway her assumed perception as a screaming barbarian into an actual civilised person who wasn't
strictly in control of her own actions during her little tryst with the group. "Er... thanks for the offer, but I think I'll wait until I've cleaned up - be a bit of a waste to put a fresh blanket over a dirty body, right?" She looked over the healer with interest - she seemed very adapted to a colder clime, muffled up with wolfskins, heavy fur and leather as she was, as well as what looked to be some odd orange-ish mail of some kind. Some form of copper-rich bronze, maybe? Further glancing over the
actual barbarians, she noticed both Iridiel and Domhnall preferred bronze equipment and weapons - perhaps their society was not as well-stocked with iron goods, or perhaps iron was a sign of nobility, and bronze was more a utilitarian material? She'd have to ask them that later, if only to get more used to Domhnall's accent when speaking Rodorian. It was thick, and almost gravelly in its tone, and missed out plenty of letters in the words. Still, it was comprehensible enough for Angora, and if she didn't know what he was saying, she was sure that the old ma-
"Olan..." she silently reminded herself - would translate for her. He seemed to know every language all at once, and speak it perfectly - a perfect translator and linguist, and most definitely a man to be protected and treasured in his utility. Particularly in the city itself, what with most of the city speaking varying languages from all areas of the known world - such was the cosmopolitan nature of Zerul. Speaking of the city, Domhnall then spoke up about her own safety within the city, to Angora's amusement. Just because she was a screeching banshee
outside the city, doesn't mean that she was known to be one
inside the city. She giggled and shook her head to his question. "No, no, don't you worry. I know the city very well, I don't think there'll be any problems on my part. You and your friend, on the other hand... well, I don't know how big your cities are in... wherever it is you're from-"
Iridiel spoke up to interrupt.
"The Contaetha." Angora stopped for a moment and looked at Iridiel in confusion, raising an eyebrow. Understanding the look of query, Iridiel clarified as best she could with her limited command of Rodorian.
"The Contaetha is er... how do you say... our home. We are both from the Contaetha... your language would call it the, uh... the Counties. And our homes are not big, they are small. Oh, I forgot... a moment." Iridiel knelt and began to rummage around in her backpack as the others continued.
Well, you're in for a hell of a shock when you reach the city... Angora thought to herself, nodding as Iridiel explained the situation. The Counties, eh... sounded interesting. Almost like the duchies in this part of the world, a collection of various states. Angora somewhat regretted that Iridiel seemed to lack fluency in Rodorian, otherwise she'd ask a lot more about where they were from and what life was like over there. Wet and cold from the looks of her attire at the very least. Her attention was diverted to the approach of the two warrior-looking men - Aemoten and Jaelnec, Angora remembered Olan naming them - which sent a chill down her spine. Angora swallowed nervously and gauged the men's moods... the news was not good. It was probably not a good idea to interject about her fate in the group at the moment, what with a mixture of sternness and weariness in Aemoten's eyes. She gave a sheepish smile and tried to keep her voice from wavering... failing miserably as she did so "H-Hi there... I, uh... I'll be just cleaning myself up, actually... best not wait much longer, right?" She gave a half-hearted laugh and quickly excused herself, walking off towards the direction of a nearby brook that she remembered the location of whilst she was still under her affliction.
Angora, you fucking idiot! you need to make a better impression of yourself if you want to try and change their minds about you... She cursed herself under her breath multiple times as she made her way through the undergrowth away from the group, who she hoped would make a decision about her without really needing her input. She walked past the trees and listened to the birdsong, thinking about how differently she perceived the world around her without the meddling interference of that entity clouding her mind. It was a welcome relief, truth be told - she just wished that it didn't have to come at such a high cost to everyone involved. The healer seemed exhausted from her efforts after she'd finished, and she bitterly regretted her violence towards the woman who had tried to strangle her, and the squire... not to mention the agony of the ritual that Iridiel had performed. Angora reached the stream's edge and sat down, the wind reminding her oh-so-clearly that it was most certainly
not a warm summer's day. Still, it had to be done some time, and the sooner it was over and done with, the better. Angora first slipped off her various pieces of jewellery which she had collected during her time under the spirit's thrall. The rings came off, one by one, the faces of those to whom they had originally belonged flashing before Angora's eyes as she did so. She frowned, and thought about throwing them in the stream, to be lost in the flowing water. They were little more than plunder from murders most foul, trinkets and shinies that the spirit had found interesting from some strange primal instinct, and they reminded her of what she was: little more than an animal, feasting on the flesh of the fallen, and butchering those she came across. And she could remember it all so clearly... and why? Because the spirit had demanded it? Because she had reverted to simple primal urges for meat and fire and gold? Did the spirit really imagine that to be human civilisation?! Rage washed over her as she thought about how the spirit had effectively violated her, and she clenched her fists, her mouth curled in an irritated snarl at nothing in particular. Was that her just reward for stealing the sword in the first place, to be mentally broken, no, raped by some outsider that knew nothing of the world about it and used her as its vessel? Her joy from her liberation seemed like a distant memory, her mind consumed by anger at the spirit... And in a moment of clarity, she realised something. Perhaps it had had such an effect on her because of her temper,
because she was given to extreme moods? Maybe it could have been a blessing in disguise. Angora smiled. An unusually cruel, and cold smile that brought a chuckle to her throat. Yes... that was it, a blessing in disguise indeed. She would use this spirit as a weapon. She already had proved to herself that she could use it as she pleased, now that its control over her had been broken. Now she resolved to take her revenge upon it. She would subordinate it completely to her will, and use its power to defeat those who stood against her. The beast that she had been was still an effective killer, and if she were able to temper its abilities, to harness the inner raw emotion... and then calm herself and allow her rational mind to take over outside of combat, she could be so much more than even her brothers were capable of. She had already been both the Untamed *and* Angora. But she had never been able to switch between the two, not until now.
All of that from some rings and bracelets. Angora decided to keep them with her, if only to remind herself of what she used to be, and what she could never allow herself to regress into. She set them aside on the bank of the stream, and then removed her boots, which were perhaps the only items of clothing that didn't require some... extensive maintenance. The leather cuirass that served as her primary 'armour' was next, Angora carefully unlacing it from the left side, before completely immersing it in the water, which prompted a sharp intake of breath as the chilly water bit at her hands. Nevertheless, she kneaded away at the dirt and grime on the leather, rubbing, and in some cases using her nails to scrape off the worst of it as best she could in an effort to at least look slightly presentable when she and her companions (with any luck) arrived at the gates of the city. Though the majority of the population did live outside the city itself, Angora's family was one of those that lived within the city walls, thanks in part to her father's income as a gold and silversmith, which had most certainly augmented their status. It was dirty money. Angora snickered to herself as she worked away at the leather, thinking about how her family's entire situation as it stood relied entirely on crime... her father had learned the art of goldsmithing by experimenting on items that her mother Iora had stolen from her wealthier clients, and it was Iora's own profession that had resulted in the birth of Angora's younger brother, as well as magician, Karl. Angora herself had been well-versed in the art of the seductive murder - the safest way past a man's security was in his bedchamber, after all. Reikard was the perfect soldier, honourable yet well-intentioned, and Yvann... Angora snorted as she remembered her brother. In Angora's own words, he was as dull as dishwater and as sharp as a pebble. Angora used to steal from him all the time when they were children, and he never learned of it until either her father Erik or Iora found the missing items in Angora's possession, which usually earned her a sharp clip around the ear. Yet her childhood, for all of its black money, and mother coming home after dark, and father almost setting fire to the house, was a happy time. She missed it. Finishing up the leather, Angora stood up and sighed heavily, only to hear a cough from behind her. Whirling around and drawing her sword ready to strike, Angora was only just about able to stop herself from leaping at the origin of the noise - Iridiel. The healer had followed her, and she held something in her hands. "
Here. You might want this." Iridiel handed over a small leather package bound with silken string, and then undid her cloak and held it out. "
This should keep the cold off." Angora smiled and took the package and cloak gratefully. "Thank you..." she breathed as she looked back at the river. Iridiel, for her part, turned away and sat down a short distance from the bank, before taking out a leg of salted and smoked ham from her pack and cutting off a small piece of it with her dagger to eat. Angora laid down the cloak on the bank of the stream and placed the jewellery on top, before unlacing the package - a small block of some hard substance that was slippery to the touch. It was some kind of soap, but not one that Angora was familiar with. Nevertheless, she set it too on the cloak within reach from the water, before she drew herself back up and stripped naked, discarding the cloth shirt and torn leather trousers onto the grass. The cold wind made its presence known ever more fiercely, causing Angora to swear repeatedly and she drew her arms across her breasts protectively, almost as if to try and hold on to some last bit of warmth as she stepped into the chilly water. It seemed as though the whole world was just full of
cold! "What I wouldn't give for a Zerulic bathhouse right now!" she shouted over to Iridiel, who laughed in acknowledgement. Angora, after a moment of hesitation knelt in the stream, and began to scrub her hair and face thoroughly with the cold water, smearing the soap all through it in an effort to get the dregs and the dirt and the grease out of her long black locks. As she washed the soap out of her hair, she whistled a tune from her childhood. The words she could not remember, but the tune had stayed with her, and provided some small comfort to the frigid woman as she splashed her face with water. Next came her body... and she wasn't looking forward to it. She scrubbed herself vigorously down with the soap Iridiel had provided for her and then, after much hesitation, Angora immersed herself fully in the water by lying down on the stony riverbed, allowing the stream to wash away the dirt and grime loosened by the soap. Getting back to her feet unsteadily, Angora staggered over to the stream bank and took hold of her cloth shirt and leather trousers, before walking back into the middle of the stream and immersed her clothing into the water, rubbing them too with the soap, which had diminished quite substantially.
Finishing up after what seemed like an eternity, Angora finally sloped over to the side of the riverbank and laid out her clothes to dry, before drawing the cloak about herself and donning all of her jewellery. She then walked over and sat next to Iridiel, who offered her several slips of meat to eat as they waited for the others to arrive. "Thank you..." Angora bit into the meat and gasped as the taste all but overwhelmed her. The saltiness, the smoky flavour... She hadn't been able to truly taste anything when the spirit had taken her over - she'd eaten to sustain herself, not for any other purpose. She chewed on the meat hungrily, as Iridiel struck flint and iron against each other to start a small fire.
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