Making her way through the city leaves much to be desired as far as what she considers to be a comfortable environment for herself. Over time, the gray has drifted from her lofty lodgings right here in the city square and into the ever-expansive, nature enveloped meadow. There, a small cottage at the end of the threads of society, Emersyn has chosen to live. Here, she can hardly think around the hustle and bustle of messy vendors and clumsy scholars. The city seems full of pigeons, and not just the mailing type. She moves through the entropy with the patience and grace of a skilled fighter, but the tension building within the navy blue pits of her eyes is similar to a spring being wound to its capacity. Still, the soldier sets a neutral expression and carries on, she has a mission to complete.
Returning into a thriving city stirs an ancient emotion long-buried beneath years of careful practice and meditation, and immediately she regrets having come in when she could have avoided it. It feels like she is disgracing the city, only the King could possibly know why, and for that she is grateful that he happens to be an understanding, and forgivable man. The Emissary cannot help but tread carefully, never lingering long enough to be engaged by those out and about. The marketplace that happens daily is modest and meek compared to what she has seen in Denocte, but even still, she can find the same kind of appreciation in her fellow Delumine civilians as they sell their wares. Down the main street, buskers try for their routine on the corner and manage a few coins off of the Emissary before she is on her way.
Winter produces a thinner crowd, and the blue roan slips through like a ghost, no one says hello or bothers to engage the woman. She has managed to look so stern that even in silence she can startle those around her. Emersyn has to try and keep herself as hard as iron as she moves towards the gates of the court. If she doesn't concentrate the bodies start lining up in the gutters again, she has to keep looking up to avoid the vision. Up until now, she has managed up until this very moment, when someone jars her from her left., and nearly topples her into the mud. The offender is an intoxicated man who tra-la-lah's around her before swerving out of her way when she snaps at him for proximity issues .. it takes everything not to knock him down to his knees. Emersyn swallows her fury and moves along but not before breathing steam at him. She only looks back once at the man who is swaying and singing loudly in the street. The fact that Delumine is just now starting to come to life again is the only thing that saves the man from ..
But wait --
Oh no. She stops, ears perk, she is certain he is talking to her. "I know you, come back here beautiful. I want to talk to you.. he yells, then laughs loudly. The stranger does not expect Emersyn to turn around and return to him. Something about the severity of her expression has the stranger trying to change his tune. Yet it is too late, by now the soldier has arrived, and making him feel quite uncomfortable by her silent, still, and oh so sterilizing aura. She smells clean like a hospital and not at all exotic like the gray beauty he catcalled for. She should have been a scolding teacher rather than running messages across town, yet here she is, fuming isopropyl and chlorine, harshing whatever mellow he thought he might have.
“And how is it that you know me?” Emersyn presses coldly, her eyes almost seem black. The drunkard shrivels, he cannot think of anything to say. He regrets everything and she knows it. “It would be in your best interest to get back inside and keep your absurd behaviour in check. This is a clean city, fool. There are children present. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Her frown not only shames him, but sobers him as well. Young colts who are across the way watch the woman dismiss her antagonist. They forget about the man’s foolish behaviour and, instead, worry about their own. Much later in their lives, they'll remember her - but for good or bad, the mystery remains.
Her attention turns elsewhere, however, not far down from here, and standing alone (what are these odds?) is the one she is looking for, the one that brings her into the city. From this distance she admires the light that dances across his warm toned skin, and the impressive wings on his back. Emerysn thinks about her work at home, a pair of unfinished wings, and how they look so much different than a pair of natural ones. If only she had a specimen to study while she completed her work -- her ponderings have left her at a standstill across the street. It takes someone else bumping her in passing to get her moving forward again. All intrigue has deserted her expression when she gets close enough to greet him. Hello there. Are you waiting for someone? She says plainly.
“Septimus, I presume?” Emersyn’s question is quite confident. She judges that this is her fearless flyer, the one who will help aid her, he fits the profile. “I’m Emersyn, Delumine's new Emissary. I'm the one who sent the rabbits to see about meeting with you today.” This close to Septimus, even Emersyn can’t help the fracture in her expression, it threatens to reveal glowing amusement, as if something has impressed upon her, the feeling of happiness. Perhaps it is the success of her young rabbit post, three black cottontails that have a knack for running messages in a timely fashion, which makes her smile. Or maybe it is Septimus himself, someone very handsome or someone very stupid, she cannot tell just yet. "Can I get you a cup of tea?" She gestures over at the baker who is always warming something over his coals, "I can discuss details and you can ask questions if you like."
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