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Iseult had needed to take off work. Explaining the why of it had been awkward. She didn't think anyone was really permitted to know about it and thus she'd had to lie and Iseult wasn't really very good at lying. In fact, she was rather horrible at it. Blunt honesty was more Iseult's thing. She found it easier to speak the truth, face the rage, than to confuse the issue with unnecessary lies. In turn, she hated when others offered her a lie. If she could be honest, why not them as well? But she lied, explaining to Master Dunnlevin that she had a family emergency to deal with, but there was little reason why she wouldn't be in the following brightening.
Because Iseult was an early riser, waking was little trouble for her and she dressed as she always did--plain pants and a shirt with a set of boots. The small squares that she'd been given were a trial to tuck away, as she desperately did not want to activate them, but she again placed them in a small purse that she could dangle at her hip and Iseult felt content enough that little damage could be done to them in the interim.
She still had her reservations about the agreement that they'd made. They'd been banned and she'd stayed away, having no reason to really go scope the place out anyway. Now they were going back and perhaps they'd been forgotten...but then how many half-breed thelyris did they have running up into their clock towers on a regular basis? Very few, she figured.
Which brought her unease in the matter to what really bothered her--the thought of something altering her appearance, be it just arcana and an illusion or not, was not something that settled her stomach in the slightest. If anything, her gut churned restlessly as she made her way to the townsquare. There she'd meet Ci'aran...and she wasn't particularly looking forward to the rest of it.
At the square, she stood there and waited until Ci'aran came into view. She fidgetted with a loose string on her shirt, brow furrowed as she wished she had a scissor to clip the damned thing off. Oh well. She tried to ignore it, but only found herself tugging absently at it in some fervent desire to be rid of it. Where was Ci'aran anyway?
Probably taking his time, smelling the roses...
When he finally came into view, Iseult straightened herself a little and quirked a slight nod in his direction. She fidgetted, feeling edgy, uncomfortable. "I still don't know about this, Aran," she admitted, adjusting the fall of her braid so that it swung behind her. "What if it goes wrong?"
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