<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/childedit1.jpg)</div><em>Solfiria Character Post</em><br/><strong>Time of day beginning post</strong>: Noonish<br/><strong>Time of day ending post</strong>: Noonish<br/><strong>Location beginning post</strong>: Outside the Bold Bison<br/><strong>Location ending post</strong>: Outside the Bold Bison<br/><strong>Characters currently interacting with</strong>: Nemea<br/><strong>GM Intervention Request\Required?</strong>No<br/><hr/><br/>Sol was sitting outside the Inn, focusing herself and concentrating on the roiling crowds above and the feel of the electricity in the air. Other people seemed bothered by it all, but she was honestly more at ease here in the open with the clouds above and the ground below than she was inside shoulder-to-shoulder with other folks. Folks who could, at any moment, turn and rip the veils from her face, expose her markings, her eyes, her ears... her hair... everything that made her an outcast. And then she'd be forced out of town before she'd even really gotten to know the place and to deal with the ridicule and torment again... Sol wasn't sure she could go through that again.<br/><br/>Sighing softly, her eyes glittering purple and blue hues looked at the gray above her before closing. It was at that moment that footsteps announced someone's approach. Out of habit, her hands, hidden by the long sleeves of her robes, twitched almost in preparation for being accosted. She could see every imprint etching its way across her face, her hands, her body... she knew where each one was... what each one did... intimately familiar with every "gift" she bore, she ran through a dozen scenarios in her head on how to use one to keep someone from removing her veils.<br/><br/>When instead of being grabbed or shouted at, a gentle male voice sounded, her eyes fluttered open slightly and she looked up at Nemea in silence as he babbled at her something about Corann and a phase. The look that he got in response to the entire thing earned him a slow blink, followed by a slight tilt of her head to the side. "What... are you talking about?" she asked in a quiet, confused tone. "Why should I care if Corann is going through a phase? Let him get himself killed, it's no skin off my back." When he went on to talking about going through life alone, she felt all the more confused. Alone was all she knew... people were cruel and harsh and judgmental and tended to disappear or push you away.<br/><br/>In her entire life, she'd spent real time with only two people... one was dead, the other had forced her to leave, throwing her out on her own. Her father hadn't counted, he'd barely spoken to each other... Shaking her head some, she let out a soft half sigh, half grunt and frowned at him. "People are trouble. And baggage." Shifting in her seat, she opened her pack and seemed to rummage through it, as if looking for something. Still elbows-deep in it, she spoke again without looking up. "And why do you care? I've already told you I have nothing to offer a group like yours on the road. I do not fight. I have no magic."