Sat on the tailgate of their intrepid little wagon, and as far from the other occupants as she could physically manage without walking, Veriseldë Lithlinde, colloquially known as Veri, was doing her best impression of a statue. The only thing ruining the effect was her hood and hair flailing about in the strong winds off the sea, just a few short miles away, it's grey-blue expanse still visible from the elevated coast road upon which they were currently travelling. The only movement that she made with any conscious effort was a series of short, sharp turns of the head to check on the blades she had about her person and on her unstrung bow, currently resting within it's buckskin case on the wagon's bed, nestled among the goods and crates that formed the bulk of the cargo on this trip.<br/><br/>From the corner of her eye she studied the one member of their little troupe of hangers on that she could see, the human that was riding on a bull. A more ridiculous pair you would be hard pressed to find in any land of Hyperion. Still she supposed that their slow nature made them perfectly suited for one another. The human had yet to show her anything amounting to even a modicum of intelligence. Not that even the most intelligent of humans held a candle to the inferno of an elven mind, but still.<br/><br/>To the others behind her, she paid little mind, although she could practically hear the seething fury of the cart driver at her presence almost as well as she could hear the curses and indignities he was directing at her under his breath. The ears weren't just for show, but there was no need to let the man know that. Not yet. The rest were more subdued, having said little since they set out, but she was certain that they were either morbidly curious and simply afraid to ask about her or shunning her completely. She suspected the latter more than the former.<br/><br/>Idle speculation aside, she was bored. Completely and utterly. The tautology of that turn of phrase entertained her for a few moments before she subsided into it's embraced once more. The whole damn place felt alien and... wrong, somehow. There was nothing she could fixate on to interest herself, just that feeling of alienness. And that led to boredom, which led to a search for something to interest herself, which led to that feeling again. And so the vicious cycle continued, interminable as the grinding of the badly maintain back axle she sat above.<br/><br/>Maybe something interesting would happen soon. She doubted it, but there was still hope. But just a little.