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She refrained from touching the wall, although the reassurance that the sturdy structure was there would have been a welcome thing beneath the skimming of her fingers. Yet she couldn't help but feel wary and intimidated by the stories of the wall. She never considered herself truly superstitious. Never really believed in ghosts and the like. But this place set herself on edge, sent shivers of discomfort down her spine that she couldn't quite banish, no matter how hard she tried.
Iseult was content to ignore her surroundings, to wrap herself up in simply finding her way out of Cloison and into a place that was less sketchy and run down. The residential area where she lived or the Quarter du Sud would have been preferable. She would have taken either, at least there she had a better chance of picking her way through the streets and finding her way back to her home. She knew those areas well enough. But not this place.
She heard the hesitant 'serale' and she ignored it, staring resolutely ahead, not wishing to get involved with some beggar woman who thought Iseult might have a spare coin or two. She felt the brief fear that maybe the voice had actually been that of a ghost and she continued forward, pace quickening slightly. But then she heard the other voice. The second one pipe up and ask if the two of them were lost. Her name.
She shifted, turned towards the source and was immediately shocked into stillness as she realized that the person who'd spoken her name was...the Leonard girl. What was her name? Seyren? She looked from Seyren to the slight blonde with her pale blonde hair. She looked terrified. Terrified and frail. Was that the source of the trembling 'serale' she had heard previously?
"Seyren?" Iseult straightened, trying to do her damnedest not to look wary and discomforted by her surroundings. Iseult usually prided herself on her ability to lock away her emotions for some length of time and draw on a steady, bland facade. Her impatience and temper often got the best of her, however, if not as beautifully as Lynessa's.
She took a hesitant step towards the pair, her glance towards the thin woman hesitant. She didn't know this woman. That was always cause enough for uncertainty. "You don't look like you belong here," Iseult observed lightly, brows furrowing. No, the woman certainly did not look as if she didn't belong. But then she figured Seyren didn't either. And Iseult most certainly knew that she did not. "You all right?" she asked Isabetta...very politely. She could be polite. When the situation warranted it. And when she felt like it.
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