First Cycle of Kalendryas
Season of Winter
As the Wall of Weeping loomed into view, Iseult's heart hammered uncomfortably. She had known, from the poor houses around her, that she'd taken a wrong turn, but she had hoped, through her attempts to backtrack, that she might find her way out of the maze of homes and streets and get back to a place that was less filthy, less questionable in its crowd. Instead she'd only found her way to the very heart of the rundown quarter, face-to-face with a hulk of stone and mortar. She'd always been terrible with directions and once more she'd proven herself completely incompetent in finding her way through the city, never mind that she'd been living there for months.
Iseult drew up her spindly frame to its full height, nearly a full six feet and all of her created of long, lanky limbs that were more angles and bones than healthy curves and flesh. She hated this quarter of this city, this sharp reminder of poverty where people did their best to make ends meet. Whores lived here. Sighting a whore, with her round flesh visible despite the cloak that she wore half-draped around her against the cold, Iseult shuddered and looked away, dark, half-breed eyes settled on the road that wound out ahead of her. The whores always reminded her of her mother, a hateful woman with a sharp temper and selfish inability to give much love and attention to her children...unless they'd done something wrong and she was in a rotten mood.
Despite herself, Iseult stepped towards the Wall of Weeping, away from the whore she'd spotted down the lane. She had been here in the past. She had visited with Ci'aran Leonard and although the events that had cascaded forward from that visit remained fuzzy and uncertain for the half-breed, she did recall that they had not been
good.
Iseult tugged her cloak tight around her slim body, making a mental note of the position of her coin purse--not that she brought much along with her these brightenings given the fact that she'd been robbed than just once in her life--and strode forward with her shoulders shifted back and her chin level. She did not want to come off as too arrogant or self-confident, but neither did she wish to skulk and creep and perhaps set herself off as a target in that regard. Besides, she'd never been particularly good at skulking and creeping, blunt and forthright as she often tended to be.
She stood in front of the Wall of Weeping, almost daring it to come to life with its spooks and goblins, her hands wrapped around the edges of her cloak to keep her gloved appendages warm. She struggled to come up with the right direction to take. She could walk along the wall. Perhaps that might find her a way out of this place easier than trying to walk the labyrinth of streets. But did she dare test the mettle of the rumored ghosts that resided within the wall?
Might as well. It was better than mingling with the whores.
So she struck out southward along the wall, striding along with her chin up, trying not to looked nervous and uncomfortable as she kept close to the wall.
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