Interface

Mara

It has been three hours since we got out of the forest, and I'm already contemplating running back in.
The girl, Asteropia, has helped us wash up, and Gwynhoiarn's thick nomad's paint has been washed into what could pass as ( admittedly very thick) liner.
Her silver-blonde hair has been taken down as well, and it falls around her shoulders in graceful waves.
She's actually quite pretty without the nomad's paint smothering the area around her eyes and her thick clothes obscuring her body, but she still looks wild.
Mila has been dressed like a carer- one of the slave castes whose only job is to tend their master's whims.
She looks very pretty. Her eyes have been rimmed with gray shadow-liner and her short brown hair has been pinned into a style consisting of elaborate braids, not dissimilar to the plaits that the nomads sport, but hers are not as complex, and they wouldn't stand against the weather as well as the plaits in the nomad's hair do.
Her figure is covered in a soft grey dress with an elaborately made belt to cinch the waist.
And then there's me.
My tunic is a simple one, with a beige color and a simple leather belt. My hair has been braided into a single strand as thick as my arm, and Aife has placed a necklace over my head.
Its a wolf head pendant, made of some bold orange stone that I can't identify.
Bracelets made of leather surround my wrist, and I resist the urge to readjust them into a more comfortable position.
The woman with the black hair was very insistent that I leave them in the position that provides a horrifying itch, but I suppose she has her reasons for making it this way.
That or she decided to torture me in a way that is subtle yet nagging.
I don't wear any makeup, and I suppose that this is supposed to make me look even more out of place than I would've looked before.
Asteropia practically lights up when she sees the transformation that we've all undergone, and she beckons us to follow her.
She talks as she walks, and I wonder if the word 'quiet' is even in her vocabulary, or if she normally speaks in this loud tone.
" when we return to my home, mother will most likely ask what your identity is. Do not answer the question in your own voice, but allow me to explain. I will give you false names to assume when you are in the town, names that will not attract suspicion. My father is probably not home, but if he is, then we must avoid him, or risk him detecting you. If he sees you, then I will attempt to distract him, but I may not be able to convince him that nothing is amiss. If that happens, then all this effort will be for nothing, and we will never accomplish our plans."
Gwynhoiarn seems displeased with this, but she always seems upset, so I can't tell whether or not she's more displeased than usual at the prospect of gaining a new, temporary name.

After about an hour of walking, we are in the heart of the city, and Gwynhoiarn seems more jumpy than usual, though she hides it well.
No doubt she is afraid of being so far from her family. From what I've heard, nomads rarely travel alone.
When Asteropia knocks on the door of a massive home, I back away, rather shaken by the prospect of going inside.
A beautiful noblewoman emerges, and her thin lips press into a frown before Asteropia drags us through the foyer.
" I got myself some new slaves!" she calls before pulling us deeper into the maze-like interior of the building.
Gwynhoiarn looks like she might die of humiliation, but she has no time to get upset, because we are dragged into what appears to be the room that belongs to Asteropia.
Mila is the first of us to speak up, and she sounds more curious than she should be, especially considering that we are in the den of our enemy.
" why are we here?"
Asteropia turns to her with an exasperated sigh.
" We are here because we need information, weaponry, anything that could give us an edge."
There is a quiet knock on the door, and a servant girl enters quickly, bowing, before announcing in a high-pitched, shaky voice,
" Lord Albus to see my lady."
Asteropia stiffens until her back is straighter than a rod.
" send him in."
The servant girl nods before scurrying out of the room as if her heels are on fire.
The blond soldier from the woods enters the room, and Gwynhoiarn stiffens before forcing herself to relax.
The soldier looks much different in the comfort of his own home, like he has shed all his worries at the door like a snake shedding its skin.
His expression is weary, and his posture is slumped slightly.
" Asteropia... how have you been my child? I see that you have invested in new servants... hopefully they won't end up like the last one.."
A flicker of malice passes through Asteropia's eyes so quickly that I'm not sure if my eyes have deceived me or not.
Albus pats Asteropia's head.
" I hope you remember that poisoning your servants has been outlawed." he says with a chuckle, and chills run down my spine at the thought of what could've happened to her last servant.
I'm snapped from my thoughts when Asteropia grabs my arm and drags me out of the room.
Once we are a good distance away from the others, she turns around, and I am reminded of a snake when I look into her eyes.
" listen you worthless gutter rat. If you so much as hint to your friends that I will hurt them, I can make your death look like a simple accident. Remember this well little girl, or you may find an unfortunate fate waiting for you."
I gulp. The way her voice is hissing is so different from her innocent face that- if I wasn't so terrified, I might laugh. But I am terrified, so I don't laugh at her. Instead I make a stupid squeaky sound in the back of my throat that makes me sound like a frying rat on a hot pan. I can only hope that she understands that I won't say anything, and that she doesn't decide to murder me.
She scoffs and turns away, her curly hair flicking like a street-mutt's tail.
" I expect that you won't tell the others."
I'm frozen with fear, my mind filled with memories of being forced to obey questionable orders by questionable people and not being able to tell anyone for fear of being slaughtered... or worse.