Scout — Roleplayer Guild

Viveca sat upon her bed, the uniform she wore earlier lying on the ground with small tears and tatters covering it.  She couldn't wear it anymore, she would have to pack extras and possibly be one short, if only to avoid questions.  The woman pulled her knees to her chest - it was cold but she hadn't found it in her to change after returning, preferring instead to expend a bit more of her ether to stay warm.  Her room was aglow with her own light, slipping out through the cracks in the door as she buried her forehead against her knees.  Even now, a couple short hours after returning, she was in just her skivvies.  Try as she might, Viveca couldn't piece together what she had experienced, that unholy book lying askew at the opposite edge of her bed.  The Inquisitor couldn't leave it there, though it instilled fear deep in her heart - like it was waiting for her to try again.

Ashe-ran...

The word rang in her head; it was more than a family figure here, but why was it in the book?  She wiped the tear from her cheek, the last few hours just a blur as she rushed out of the catacombs, clutching the evil tome.  Her pack of cigarettes rested on the end table nearby and Viveca grabbed another, lighting it shakily as she leaned against the wall running flush with her bed, letting the wispy smoke from the end of the stick drift out of the slightly cracked window.  With a sigh of relief, she finally readjusted, scooting closer to the window and tucking her legs beneath her.  It took but a minute to finish and she put the tobacco out.  Shutting the window, she shuffled to her wardrobe and began to pick out evening-wear; having changed into a simple, tailored green gown and long black gloves, Viveca checked the mirror again.  Thankfully, she had managed to cover and cure most of the frost damage to her body.  Her skin below the neck had grown rather red, some of it even remained lightly speckled with ice particles.  She'd been working to heat the symptoms with her ether, but it was a slow process.  In the moment, the enveloping ice seemed to last an eternity, but it did not appear that the effects would be permanent.  Her skin was covered in nicks and a few scars, but they wouldn't tand out if one wasn't looking closely.

After closing the window tightly, Viveca looked over to the door to spot a shadow moving about.  She began to extinguish her lights - no visitors...  Not now.  They didn't knock and she sighed, relieved and free from social obligation.  Taking her ribbon from the bedside table, she pulled her hair back and tied it into a tail, looking herself again.  The only thing she couldn't hide was the raw, red skin that had been climbing her neck in the catacombs.  Nobody would ask, they all had their own loose ends to tie up before they left, of course, right?  Nobody seemed to be in perfect condition when she saw them earlier; however, she hadn't really focused on them, her eyes still filled with the image of her doom.  First from Indira, then from the azure circle.  How could she trust Indira after that?

Vashi'maru, vashi'mara.

Because she had to.  She had to trust Indira.  She had to protect her warsiblings.  And she could not let them know that anything was wrong - not yet.  Not until she knew what to do about it.  The shadow had disappeared, but she decided to talk to them anyway, reaching hesitantly for the doorknob.  The door clicked and Viveca opened it slowly, with a measured patience that was nearly graceful.  Her slippers made no sound apparent from the muffled thud and shuffling of her feet as she crossed the floors, wrapping a light black shawl around her shoulders to keep away the cold.  The common room was just down the hall and she emerged to find Ragnar, Hassan, and Stina beginning to dig into a platter of food.  She realized just how starved the last three days had left her.

Viveca calmly took a seat of her own in the circle, once again tucking her legs beneath her.  She ran a hand through her hair and listened patiently; where had they been anyway?  It sounded like they had found a lot more excitement and pay-off than she had.  Down under the Seminary she had found nothing but anguish...  "Ice pirates?  Sounds like you all had quite the eventful day..."  She added, finally speaking.  Her words rarely felt rushed, each one rolling from her lips, deliberately placed with seemingly meticulous scrutiny as she spoke.

She realized how empty her hands were now and the Inquisitor rose to find a mug of coffee, hoping for a recounting of the story.  Anything would be better than where her thoughts had been going previously.  Finally finding a pot on a table in the common room (where the four remaining Inquisitors, the only people left in the compound right now, had moved the machine and beans for convenience) with only a little bit left, she emptied it into a mug.  It was filled only halfway to the top before the pot was left with naught but hot air and droplets.  Viveca sighed and prepared another half-pot to prevent wasting the resources.  With a hiss, the machine began to work its magic and she returned to her seat, blowing softly on the liquid as she waited to hear what the men had to say.

While they spoke, she glanced over at Ragnar, cocking an eyebrow.  Why had he been hovering outside of her room before?  Did he know that she had noticed him - Stina and Hassan would have a much more prevalent shadow through the door, it couldn't be anybody else.  Not to mention, they wouldn't care, they would take the food for themselves and actually hope she didn't come out trying to get some.
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