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“Stupid,” the woman huffed in frustration as she trekked through the crowded marketplace. Her hood was placed over her head, her pin straight black hair for once free from the low bun she often wore. She was trying to keep herself well-hidden and while she could simply shift into her raven form, she knew she had very little strength to do so. Draya was aware that she couldn’t stay at the palace,  nor did she get a chance to snoop around. Had she known the King and Queen were in danger, she would’ve immediately said something. She had never failed  her royal highnesses, ever. As always, knowing she could’ve been there to prevent it made her sick to her stomach.</div></span><div style="margin: auto; overflow: visible; max-width: 450px;background: #eaeaea; color: #000000;text-align: justify"><br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">“And where was the mutt?” She grumbled. When alone, it wasn’t uncommon for her thoughts to pass through her lips in sharp whispers, like a broom across a hardwood floor. She felt like cleaning her head out of these thoughts would make it easier for her to concentrate on her visions. Though, whoever was with the Prince or guiding him, must’ve known of her gift and they were doing a damn good job of keeping her out of the way. She knew that she would never be able to find the Prince on her own. She needed to find Will who was the only person she could think closest to the Prince. He hadn’t been with him when the heir disappeared though which made this all the more strange.</span><br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">It was him she was currently tracking now, or at least she knew where to find him: the Lion’s Inn. It was a little away from the castle, but that was what she preferred. It was much too hot around there right now. There was still a source of relaxation about the busy streets which she could only assume was due to the news of the assassination was still barely spreading through the Evidalier. At first she thought it stupid that Will would be joining this little makeshift crew in an attempt to find the Prince. She already knew that not everyone’s intentions were for the best. Still, travelling this area alone was quite dangerous, even if you had a partner and Draya believed they might fare well in a group setting.</span><br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">She was curious though as to what kind of person would be willing to share the glory for something so crucial. With how odd the placement of the ad had been, one could sense apprehension in putting it up in the first place as it was a strange request. All Draya could be sure of was that she would find the hound there and she knew from first hand that they both had the same mot I’ve in mind.</span><br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">After asking around, Draya was finally led in the direction of the pub. She approached the building, noting how busy it was for an afternoon. Boisterous voices and the sound of dishes clanking erupted from the building each time the door was opened; a harsh chiming of the bell above their heads to acknowledge their entrance. She pulled her hood down when she entered, met by the intense scent of mead, musk, and meat. It made her nose turn up, perhaps her days at the palace had spoiled her a little. She was ashamed to say that she slowly was becoming accustomed to it, though depending on how long she planned to stick around – the minute she detected bullshit – she at least wouldn’t have to suffer through the stench.</span><br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">Dark brown eyes searched over the heads, scanning for a face that seemed to be searching for another in a sea of faces. She’d known where to go and she knew who she was looking for. Will hadn’t arrived, she could tell, but she couldn’t focus on him for much too long. Her visions often came to her suddenly without warning, and the only way she could control what she saw was by touch. It would be quite strange for her to go about touching every stranger she came across.</span><br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">Draya has all but turned around, maybe it would be best for her to wait for Will to come around. Yet, when a maiden walked past her carrying a plate of fruit, Draya couldn’t ignore the twisting and turning in her stomach. It was then her eyes landed on a brilliant redhead, and beside her a long haired fellow who she realized looked over his shoulder each time the door opened.</span><br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">So as not to draw attention to her, despite how well she seemed to blend into the shadows, Draya started through the rows of tables and chairs too close together. What was she supposed to say? Hi, I’m here to join your rat pack. It wasn’t like she was joining with the intent to have fun on this journey. She huffed out, eyeing the red head as she rounded the table.</span><br/>
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<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">“Draya Clearwater,” she said. Her voice was smooth and even, sometimes a bit too slow for others liking but Draya wasn’t the type to get too wound up. She removed her coat, tossing it along the back of her chair. Her small satchel came next. Lithe fingers pushed up the sleeves of her black jumpsuit. She figured it would go without saying that she had seen his ad. Draya had to admit that at first glance the crew didn’t look that impressive but looks could be deceiving. Much like the beauty whose bright eyes and wicked smile made her think twice about picking off her plate. She waived down a maiden, immediately inquiring about a cut of bread with a side of cheese and fruit and a cup of wine. She was still upset about the assassination but being this wound up wasn’t going to help for keeping her head clear.</span></div><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"></span>