Sitting in the darkness of the night, in the cold ashes, overlooking his homeland, or what had once been his homeland. His people would not have stayed here forever. The Ashlands were a harsh place, and harsher were those who would enslave the men and women of the Aradaru tribe. He could see the pair, a woman, and man walking amongst the wastes.
Tiny little stitches trailed along the edge of a piece of linen that had been decorated with an embroidered, stylized rose. With perfectly mitered corners and hem-stitches that were nearly invisible to the naked eye, Octavia probably put too much professionalism in the trifle of a bookmark, but it wasn't in the healer's nature to do a haphazard job at anything.
The place smelled of mold and dirt and dead things that very much prefered to be left alone. She crawled hand over hand, for the cavern’s walls loomed low above her, so much so that she could feel the ceiling pressing down against her spine like the stone finger of a giant.
It is unusual for a Bosmer to have any employee on retainer doubly so when that Bosmer is an alpha werewolf. Though those things aren't what define Nara Nightshade. Several months have passed since she came into the Employ of Harald, a Nordic Nobleman hiring mercenaries in Bangkorai.
Amari hisses out a short breath between her teeth, squinting as she hurries forward on nimble feet, slipping between the others in the crowded road and heading further into the city. A red hat bobs up ahead, taunting her. It disappeared once, popped back up into view, and vanishes again.