Mary
Lady Elizabeth Calador 
Greymark Ancestral Home - The North Feyhore bordering Astaria

The morning air was cool against her skin, ever welcome was the feeling of it as it drew upon her, filling her senses. She stood before the massive stone structure of the keep that had been her home through the entirety of her twenty two years, its inhabitants kind enough she supposed, though always they remained wary of her, ever watching. It was not that she could see the looks that were given to her in those quiet moments, but to feel the eyes upon her, she knew. 


She was the Lady of Greymark, the first woman to claim control of the Calador legacy despite her disability. "Eliza! My Lady! Into the coach with ya', madam." The girl could not help the smile that etched its way onto her lips at the elderly, withered voice of the woman that had been charged to act as her maid. 


"At once, Emmeline. I only wanted a moment.." The soft grumble that she was rewarded with was one that she had come to expect of the old woman and it warmed her. "Go on, girl! You hold up the guard! They've schedules and the like now!" Elizabeth dipped her head obediently as the carriage door was opened to her, the coachman awaiting her hand to assist her into the coach and as she approached the carriage, that hand extended toward her to touch upon the back of her own as though to indicate his presence. 


"Easy now, My Lady. In you go. Up.. Step.. One more.. There" She had long ago gotten over the humiliation that came along with such dependency, yet it still posed a mild embarrassment as the tip of her small, suede shoe found the lip of the carriage to send her stumbling inside, barely catching herself against the soft velvet cushion of a bench.

"My Lady!" The Coachmen called out, though a gloved hand lifted as if to silence him as she straightened herself upon the bench, smoothing the length of her skirts down the slender path of her legs. "Let the girl be, Richard. She be fallin' all the time.. She gets back up!" With a murmured "Very well" The door shut, securing behind her, sending her into darkness. 


Darkness. 

It was how she lived her life, all was dark, as it always had been.. And no matter her power or station, it would always remain. She could have drawn the curtain, were she able to find it, allowed the vague rays of morning sun to spill into the small box that was to be her home for the next several hours, but it would have made no difference. Not to her. The soft baying of the horses, the prattle of the guardsmen outside entered the comfort of the coach as she felt it shift beneath the weight of the coachman as he climbed into his seat.

Brindelle would take some time to reach, but it was imperative she herself make the journey. There was much to do, from the auctioning of her prized horse flesh, to securing the contracts required for her growing trade route. Today would prove yet to be long and arduous, but she did so enjoy the market.
Cynthia
Pala Kirsnik
Brindelle market

Pala placed a hand on her hip and sighed, a freshly ungloved hand running down her face before sighing aloud. The exasperation from this set of movements clear to any who saw the young woman in front of the stall.
"I simply don't care that you think I am a magic user. That's illegal. I am no such thing, I've told you, I am a scholar! I require the parchment and ink because I must expand my book! I- what do you mean the price has gone up? Do you- ah! Do you honestly think you are the *Only* Merchant in the market with what I need? ... I- ... Well, fine. If you've gained a minor monopoly over writing tools then I suppose I'll play this game of yours."
Her white clothed shoulders slouched at the answers she got and her face gradually twisted from reluctant understanding to one of mild willingness to murder. In one swift motion a black gloved fist slammed on the market table between the two of them and she spoke in a low growling tone.
"I **Hope** Your future business proposals go *Very* Well."
Opening her fist she dropped coins on the table and snatched up her items. She paid the vendors outrageous price and moved on, steaming furious about the exchange. Grumbling aloud repeatedly about how absurd and rude humans were, as though she wasn't a full blooded human as well. The lack of social upbringing did cause her some drawbacks to understanding how people might be skeptical of her, but she still did her best, which wasn't excellent at all, to navigate the social world. Moving on she headed to another stall to purchase some fruit and exchange some meats and pelts she had brought into town, but stopped midstep as something in her gut told her to wait on the side near a stall that was boasting about some fancy perfumes. She pinched her nose lightly, doing her best not to draw attention as she waited for.. Whatever, was supposed to happen.
Mary
Lady Elizabeth Calador
North Feyshore, Brindelle - Market Square

_The carriage swayed, it's hulking weight bouncing back and forth as it's driver navigated through the ever growing throng of people that had, as always, begun to clamor toward the lively market center. The gentry were always far too quick to spend their hard(ly) earned coin, as the merchants were ever too eager to accept. The inane idea flickered through Elizabeth's mind, and for a moment her head lifted from the wall that had acted as her perch for the last several hours. 

"Ho!" A male voice boomed, its tone stricken with... Panic? Surprise? Though it was the eruption of a heightened conglomeration of yelling that seized her attention. "Is he alright?! The boy alright?! I dare say, I didn't even see the chit!" A boy? The horses restlessly shuffled in their position as Elizabeth arose from her bench, and pressed open the door to her carriage. "Richard!" She called to her driver, not caring to wait until the horses settled to make her exit, though without assistance, it was quite the ungraceful one indeed. The heel of a single, swathed foot slid directly over its intended target, and instead sent Elizabeth reeling, off balance in a sheer stumble from the safety of her temporary cage. "Oh, damnation!" Her once pristine appearance was just as quickly dashed as both feet landed one after the other into a darkened puddle, the resulting splash terribly soiling the bottom of her silken, pale blue skirting. "Master Delgado! The boy, is he alright? What happened?"_
Cynthia
Pala Kirsnik
North Feyshore, Brindelle - Market Square

A young boy had charged out after what appeared to be a runaway... Ring toy. A stick clattered to the ground when he got hit. Seems he was playing. Pala cringed at the scene before urging her feet forth. With all the care Old lady Freda had given her she knew how to at least check what might be injured. She rushed forth, bare feet nimbly navigating around the bricks of the ground and stepping around puddles before coming to a sudden halt before the scene. She saw a woman soak herself in a puddle and a second cringe crossed her face.
Oh dear that would definitely ruin her dress if not tended to sooner rather than later.
Pala, whether ignorant of the woman's difference in station, or simply uncaring of it, spoke aloud and offered a hand towards her.
"The boy is over here. My hand is directly before you if you want to take it, I can lead you to him."
Her voice was distinctly feminine, and from standing near such a potent perfume stand for a good bit, she smelled of... Flowers and other sweet scents. She turned her head to look towards the boy, but kept her hand level before the woman. The shouting and clamoring, it was a lot to take in. The whip of the stage coach master for the horses made her heart pick up pace but she took a deep breath and tore her sights from the leather to look at the boy. People were trying to move him..!
"Hey, wait don't move him yet. Oh, miss if you do wish for assistance, please do take my hand. A few people are trying to move him and that could cause further injury if he has any currently."
Mary
_Lady Elizabeth Calador

North Feyshore, Brindelle - Market Square

Voices shouted as the crowd continued to swell still as her gloved hand swiftly reached out toward the offered appendage, grasping through the darkness in earnest. Though instead of claiming the girl's fingers, she pushed at the hand, shoved it toward the child. "Go to him! I am well enough. Go!" 

"My Lady.. Here." The second hand that touched her was much larger, cold metal that nipped at her skin, though she welcomed it. "Thank you, Frederick." Her guard merely smiled in his casual way, his head dipping though there was little need. Milling bodies began to part as her guard guided her from the puddle, her small feet at last finding purchase on solid and blessedly dry ground._