[ P ] toss a coin to your— huh?

"When you have time, could you run an errand for me please?" The Professor had asked a few weeks ago as she cleaned up for the evening. And being the eager and ever-so-dutiful student, Manon had accepted without hesitation, smiling as she did so. Of course! she had said with no small amount of enthusiasm. Anything for the Professor! When she had been given the details, it seemed like she would have zero regrets taking on the quest. Her task? Go to the marketplace at Castle Stuart and bring back a package. At the time, it had been a dream come true. A trip to the Mainlands! An adventure! An exploration! Finally, she could venture out into the greater lands of Rionnach for the first time, and see for herself what the world beyond Melrose looked like. Now to her current state. She is certainly no longer in Melrose, but she is sure she isn't at Castle Stuart either. So where is she now? Lost. Really lost. Staring at the rather dirty street around her and with no castle in sight, she frowns in consternation. She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, she deduces, but the question is where? Turning around to look at the path she had taken, she finds herself not recognising it at all. The monotonous grey tone to everything made it particularly difficult to remember any details, and the mist certainly did not help either. "Oh bugger..." she mutters to herself, wishing she had brought a map or looked more closely at the one she had back at the College. Telling herself to go 'south-east' apparently hadn't been enough. Tilting her head up at the sky, she hopes to see the sun, but that is immediately quashed when she sees the clouds. No compass then. Is there anyone around? she wonders, peering down a dark alleyway as she begins to walk down the street. It seems to be rather deserted, but not entirely abandoned from the telltale signs of bustling crowds. Perhaps people have gone home already. Suddenly she sees something shift in the mist, the vapour wafting about in a turbulent fashion as someone or something dashed through it. Oh! A person! she thinks with glee. Deciding to follow the figure, she does her best not to lose sight of them as the fog swirled around them. "Excuse me!" she calls out. "Hello? Hel-" She cuts off when a hulking mass stalks towards her, its face obscured but still clearly a wolf. "Oh, hello," she starts with a smile, but it quickly falls when the man(?) shows no signs of stopping. A bone-chilling growl has her sucking in a fearful breath when she realises that this person probably has no intention of helping her. They say something, but she barely hears it as she turns on her heel to run. The sound of heavy paws kicking up gravel terrifies her and she can't help the high-pitched scream that pipes shrilly. She's no sprinter, but she finds herself zooming down the street, her heart thumping in her mouth. Oh, please, please, she has to find some place safe! @Kvothe

table x art ▸ bunny

Black clouds blanket the heavens, heralding a heretic storm. In the subsequent chill, the fog that creeps into the streets is slow and eerie, and the ghostly mist casts everything into mysterious shadow. It's not a terribly uncommon occurrence - indeed, the natives greet the fog with rolled eyes and indulgent smiles. The climate around the Castle - and the Mainland proper - is well known for such idiosyncrasies. The skies could be bright and cloudless one moment, and pouring rain or snow the next; the weather is temperamental, changeable, fluid, in a way that the citizenry is not. But the natives are proud of their homeland, and have learned to accept its immutability. Pups shriek in delight as they race between the drifting eddies, ducking through the transparent tendrils and making merry with the cloying mist. Merchants continue to hawk their wares, raising their voices against the dampening influence of the fog. There were some few, however, who had learned to turn the fog and mist into a weapon, who took advantage of the cloying darkness to prey upon the unsuspecting. The Castle was well patrolled, but the guard could not be everywhere at once; thieves and muggers slipped through the cracks, and used the opportunity for ambiguity for nefarious ends. Even here, so near to the Castle proper, sin and the surfeit of greed still gathered in the corners, still stained the virgin underground. So when Kvothe heard a woman scream, he was not wholly caught off guard. The shrill sound carried, and as his expression hardened, he immediately rushed forward, abandoning idle conversation in favor of active duty. Muscles shifted, ears pressed forward to track, his nebulitic gaze cutting through the milling mists. He rounded the corner of a nearby side street - and was nearly bowled over by the woman dashing headlong down the alley. Her momentum knocked the breath from him, but his weight and instinctive footwork prevented him from being taken off his feet. He stepped in front of the female, shielding her with his body, his neck arched and his hackles lifting as he responded to the fear that plagued her scent. Kvothe glanced down the street, a growl echoing from his cavernous chest as he caught sight of the hulking shadow that pursued the stranger. Gravel crunched as the dark form slid to a halt. "Who goes there?" the Corporal snarled, his tail curving over his back as he donned the mantle of his office, his voice ringing with cutting authority. He had no frame of reference for what was happening, but anyone who chased a screaming woman down an alley certainly warranted a bit of suspicion. The unknown assailant paused, their features obscured by the fog - but before Kvothe could step forward to press the matter, the wolf had already turned tail to flee. A lone female tourist was one thing - a Colonel of the Army was quite another. Whatever prize they had hoped to wring from the woman, their plans had been irrevocably derailed, and in this case, discretion was the better part of valor. Kvothe growled low in his throat, watching as the vagabond darted into the shadows. He inhaled deeply, hoping to catch a trace of the other's scent on the wind, so that he could bring the matter to the garrison's attention. It was only when he was certain that they were alone that he turned to face the earthen woman, his stern visage softening ever so slightly as he sought to offer comfort in the face of her fear. "Are you alright, Miss? You were not harmed?"

Her heart in her mouth, she runs like she has never ran before, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Scurrying down the alleyway, her feet kick up clouds of dust as she scrambles across loose gravel, unwilling to let the uneven terrain slow her down. Once or twice, she feels as if her chaser might grab her and pumps her legs even harder, determined to get away from them. She feels her luggage hitting her side with repetitive rhythm, the edges pressing almost painfully into her ribs. The weight of it serves to encumber her, but she does her best to keep it all on her shoulders. There are no places to hide in the open street, common sense telling her that turning into a random alleyway would prove more stupid than clever. Her breaths sound loud in her ears, fast and panicked outputs of air wheezing in her chest, and she knows that she will not be able to last much longer. She can hear the paces of her chaser close behind her, their steps syncopated with her own. It's difficult to tell just how close they are, but she daren't look behind her. Staring fearfully into the ever-swirling fog, she hopes that she will reach some main street—safety—soon. The depths of her surroundings are too hindered by the mist and she realises too late the impending crash onto another person. Chin making contact with a solid chest, nose smashing into their shoulder, she feels as if her entire body compresses momentarily from the force. The male stumbles once but holds his ground and before she can say anything, she's being spun. Too winded to speak, she can only lean on her saviour as she tries to catch her breath, noisily gasping behind him. "Who goes there?" he calls into the mist with an authoritative tone, the words sounding practiced. Nose twitching as she samples his scent profile, she notices that he smells like Victorian. A soldier, she thinks with relief as she practically deflates on the spot. She's safe. The shrouded figure does not come out of the mist, most likely having also come to the realisation that the man between them is one of the military. Peering over the soldier's shoulder, she trembles as her hunter retreats, forever to be faceless. She almost wishes she could have seen them so that she could dispel that spectre-like illusion around them. Ghosts have never scared her, but they might now after this ordeal. "Are you alright, Miss? You were not harmed?" asks her saviour, gentleness softening his tone to become consoling. She stares up into unique dual-toned eyes, finally able to wake from her shock-induced stupor. With a cursory glance, she sees that he is truly a man of the Mainlands. In his features and voice, she can see and hear the bearings of aristocracy; in his stance, it's clear that he is a knight of the Imperial army. Nodding, she tries to keep herself from shaking, both from the adrenaline rush and from the utter terror she had experienced. Oh, the sheer luck she has managed to strike today. "Thank you, s-sir," she says, her voice watery and wobbly. "T-Thank you. That was so-" Tears suddenly spring into her eyes and she heaves a sob, the stress from the entire situation overcoming her. "That was so scary." She tries to blink them away as best as she can, not wanting to cry in front of a stranger. Lifting a paw to wipe away the wetness, she ducks her head to hide away her, no doubt, unsightly look. "Thank goodness I bumped into you. Thank you." Peering apologetically over her curled paws, she mumbles meekly, ears folding back. "I hope I didn't hurt you?" @Kvothe

table x art ▸ bunny

Kvothe regarded the woman with gentle concern, his aristocratic features turned to sympathetic purpose. The scent of fear that seeped from the female's pores permeated the air around her, a sharp tang underscored by the rapid breaths that burst from her chest and the pinprick holes of her trembling pupils. If he'd harbored any suspicion that she was a pickpocket fleeing from her victim, or a criminal running from righteous punishment, those thoughts were dispelled by the sheer clarity of naked terror on her face. Clearly she was no soldier, and her scent, too, was utterly unfamiliar to him. Her coloring was ambiguous, and gave him no clue as to her nationality, but the pouches strapped to her sides suggested that she was a merchant or a scholar of some sort. A victim in truth, then - an easy mark for the unsavory elements that wandered the city. "Thank you, s-sir," she answered, sobbing her effusive gratitude. Adrenaline and fear made her words stumble over one another, syllables shivering in the cloying mist. Kvothe's brow furrowed in answering sympathy. "That was so scary." The Colonel's eyes flickered as he watched the woman try to pull herself together, scrambling for some semblance of decorum. He politely averted his eyes from her tear-stained face. Weeping women always made him vaguely uncomfortable; tears were not so easily soothed with a sword or shield. "No thanks needed, Miss. Just doing my duty," he offered lowly. There was a short pause - and then Kvothe shook his head, his expression rueful. "I am sorry that you were so sorely frightened. The streets are usually quite safe, but the mists must have made the rats bold." It was a sorry day indeed when the guards could not ensure the safety of their citizens - especially here, so near to the Castle proper. Kvothe wondered if this was a precursor of more violent crimes to come, or elsewise some sort of indicator of the kingdom's current state of affairs. The war had not ended very long ago; tensions were still high, and criminals of every sort took advantage of the chaos. "Thank goodness I bumped into you. Thank you. I hope I didn't hurt you?" The question prompted a single, long blink - and then a soft huff of denial. "No, my lady. No harm done; please don't concern yourself on my account." He might have a bruise or two from the sheer momentum of her impact, but there was no need to worry her over such trifles. He lifted his gaze passed the woman, back into the coiling fog. There was no sign of her pursuer, and by now they were likely long gone into the dark. A spike of frustration darkened his gaze, but when he turned back to the female, his eyes were soft once more. "Did you happen to see who it was, by chance? Any discerning features?"