~ Ember
Wings rustled uncomfortably beneath the dark cloak as the Harpy sidestepped quickly, her boots clicking over the cobblestones embedded in the street from the sudden shift in pace.
"Watch it!"
The burly man's words slurred groggily as he half stumbled half stomped past, the sour smell of alcohol and body odor wafting behind him, clinging to his disgusting clothes.
Ember tracked him with a frigid glare from beneath the hood's shadow, letting out a loud scoff from sneered lips before turning and striding back on her course, dark cloth whispering in response to the movement.
Pathetic humans.
There were too many pubs in this town. It seemed like every ten strides, another drunk sailor or thug lay passed out in the gutters of the narrow road or stumbled in and out of the various buildings. Dangerous or filthy-looking humans lingered around the shade of the wooden structures or sauntered loudly down the cobblestone, all containing similar or the same looks of suspicion or haughtiness on their dirt-smudged faces.
Ember sidestepped again around a pair of heavy and rugged men, both singing out of sync to some jolly, sea-faring tune, one leaning heavier against the other, drool dripping undignifying from his twisted grin. A loud and choppy, high-pitched whistle cut the mist-soden air from the direction of one of the larger buildings.
"Hey'a, yung lassy!"
Ember ignored the comment, slipping past a burly woman who stormed past with an armful of heavy sacks.
"Wat's a frail littl' thing like yeeself doin' out in te' stret this hour?"
Ember shot a cold glance from the corner of her eye, still maintaining her pace, watching the trio of sailors sharply. One leaned against a large barrel set against the wall of one of the pubs, the other standing arms crossed in the door-frame, and the third sprawled amongst a pile of crates.
"Why 'ontcha come an' grace us with yer fine presence this mornin' miss? Would luvta meetcha."
Ember focused her gaze ahead again, pulling the dark hood further down over her face.
"Of all the insolent rabble..." she hissed darkly, the rough leather gloves rubbing irritating against her skin with the movement.
The jaunty sound of the sailor's voices faded gradually, though Ember's irritation only continued to simmer.
Mist clung to her cloak, collecting and slowly soaking through the cloth, humidity seeping and stirring beneath the fabric and making her wings itch. The haze of clouds sagging over the town glowed faintly as dawn approached, the sun still crawling lazily from beneath the horizon.
A ship. That's all she needed. Pirate's Cove was crawling with smugglers and thieves, humans, and sometimes even Mythics willing to defy the king right beneath his very nose.
Ember turned down yet another unruly street, heading in the direction of the ever-present rumbling of the sea.
"Watch it!"
The burly man's words slurred groggily as he half stumbled half stomped past, the sour smell of alcohol and body odor wafting behind him, clinging to his disgusting clothes.
Ember tracked him with a frigid glare from beneath the hood's shadow, letting out a loud scoff from sneered lips before turning and striding back on her course, dark cloth whispering in response to the movement.
Pathetic humans.
There were too many pubs in this town. It seemed like every ten strides, another drunk sailor or thug lay passed out in the gutters of the narrow road or stumbled in and out of the various buildings. Dangerous or filthy-looking humans lingered around the shade of the wooden structures or sauntered loudly down the cobblestone, all containing similar or the same looks of suspicion or haughtiness on their dirt-smudged faces.
Ember sidestepped again around a pair of heavy and rugged men, both singing out of sync to some jolly, sea-faring tune, one leaning heavier against the other, drool dripping undignifying from his twisted grin. A loud and choppy, high-pitched whistle cut the mist-soden air from the direction of one of the larger buildings.
"Hey'a, yung lassy!"
Ember ignored the comment, slipping past a burly woman who stormed past with an armful of heavy sacks.
"Wat's a frail littl' thing like yeeself doin' out in te' stret this hour?"
Ember shot a cold glance from the corner of her eye, still maintaining her pace, watching the trio of sailors sharply. One leaned against a large barrel set against the wall of one of the pubs, the other standing arms crossed in the door-frame, and the third sprawled amongst a pile of crates.
"Why 'ontcha come an' grace us with yer fine presence this mornin' miss? Would luvta meetcha."
Ember focused her gaze ahead again, pulling the dark hood further down over her face.
"Of all the insolent rabble..." she hissed darkly, the rough leather gloves rubbing irritating against her skin with the movement.
The jaunty sound of the sailor's voices faded gradually, though Ember's irritation only continued to simmer.
Mist clung to her cloak, collecting and slowly soaking through the cloth, humidity seeping and stirring beneath the fabric and making her wings itch. The haze of clouds sagging over the town glowed faintly as dawn approached, the sun still crawling lazily from beneath the horizon.
A ship. That's all she needed. Pirate's Cove was crawling with smugglers and thieves, humans, and sometimes even Mythics willing to defy the king right beneath his very nose.
Ember turned down yet another unruly street, heading in the direction of the ever-present rumbling of the sea.