Thread: Pathfinder [Frontier Justice] In Character

The town was pleasant enough Merised couldn't complain about that. Her compatriots for the most part were good people and she knew she was fortunate to have been welcomed into the guild with as little combat experience as she had. And of course there were...well, there were other reasons to be happy that Ide was her home now. But sometimes she would read something in one of the many books in the guild library, just an odd little bit of lore or history about her people, speculation on the elven customs or religions, and the pain of separation would flare to life in her chest anew. She was happy in Ide, truly she was. She was able to do the same sort of work that she had been trained for in her home village she still brewed potions for healing and strength, still delivered babies and set broken bones and mended torn flesh. She still passed on the knowledge of the tilling of the earth and the rotation of the stars and the tempers of the spirits to those that would listen but at the same time, it wasn't quite like being home, not quite the same as being the Vale Guardian of her people. She refused to regret it, refused to be angry or bitter but she did question it sometimes, and though she did her best, sometimes she felt a familiar ache in her chest when she happened to read someone's breathless account of the exotic culture of the elven people. But Sarenrae had called her to travel far from her home and to minister to and protect other people. And having learned of the goddess's power first hand, she obeyed the summons and had found herself here. Far indeed from her woodland home. There were books to study, lore to learn, wounds to heal and people to protect and thus she was fulfilled, if a bit lonely. That was more of her own fault than anyone else's though. She couldn't blame them if no one understood that elves were by their nature more quiet and contemplative. Elves were thought of as charming but she had never been one blessed with a silvered tongue and it was rare that she would be quick witted enough in a conversation to make a funny joke or tell an amusing anecdote. She preferred to toil quietly, to watch and listen more than act and speak. It had served her well, and even now she found herself more comfortable in the role of watcher. It didn't hurt that what...or whom...she watched brought her a great deal of enjoyment. To say that she knew men like Ser Markus would have been a lie. Nearly a hundred and twenty years two more weeks until her one hundred and twentieth name day and she had not found a single man that she could say was 'like' Ser Markus. There were men that he reminded her of, and she rather liked those sorts of men. They were strong and noble, and even though some people rolled their eyes and scoffed at it, she found herself delighted by his chivalry. A true knight, with all of the pageantry and courtly behavior that one came to associate with the title. They'd spoken, of course. It would be impossible to live in the same guild hall and not speak but she hadn't spoken to him nearly as much as she'd have liked. She couldn't quite explain why it was that she had such a hard time speaking around him, or why she tended to hang back and watch him rather than make her thoughts regarding him known. He had always been kind and gallant when they'd had occasion to speak but her own tongue felt heavy and leaden when she tried, and her stomach churned with nervousness, making her prefer the safe distance of library window, or across the feast hall, any place aside from right next to him. Besides, she'd come to terms with the thought that he most likely had a lover back in Londo what man like that wouldn't? Still, it harmed no one for her to admire him and it looked as though she would get a chance to do so as she saw his golden head above the shorter bookshelves. However, she hadn't expected him to address her, and the nervousness that accompanied his arrival was telling. I...y-yes Ser Markus. Is...anything wrong? Perhaps one of the young recruits had been injured in training. Or there had been an injury or an accident. A fever perhaps had taken hold of citizens in the town. No, no...he was smiling. He wouldn't smile if someone was hurt or ill. A question about a potion perhaps? Perhaps they had been requested for an assignment. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been requested to travel to a more remote village for some reason. Or perhaps a message had arrived in response to the missive she'd sent to the High Temple of Sarenrae. There were a multitude of reasons why he would be speaking with her and she was being very silly for becoming nervous about it. She put the book away quickly, not wanting to risk the pages being ruined by her palms becoming sweaty an embarrassing situation for anyone, but especially for an elf, who was supposed to be beyond such things as sweat, according to human belief.