<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d0/Prisine.jpg)<br/><em>Prisine </em></td><td><strong>Name:</strong> Prisine<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Guest Quarters, Civic Festhall, Sigil<br/><strong>Time:</strong> Mid-morning<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong> Closed for Ihaana &amp; Bryseis<br/><br/>New factions and splinter groups budded up all the time in the political landscape of Sigil. Most of them were never allowed to rise to power, never had a chance- those who threatened the peace of Sigil, like the Incantifiers, vanished without a trace. Those who played the political game on the major factions' terms were buried with a single misstep. The Will of the One was a small splinter, drawing membership from its mother faction, the Sign of One. Already it was making waves. Prisine was a dangerous cutter to be around.<br/><br/>But she was a force of personality. Still dripping wet, shimmering with tiny scales arranged like freckles, she observed the orgiastic aftershocks of the previous night's festivities as though it were exactly how things ought to be. No, she was not the well-muscled swimmer of a native to the endless ocean- she was more of a minnow, raised in a Cage, a stranger to the plane of her heritage, like Rysse, like Ihaana. "I want you to be at this thing, when we take the crowd at Elloweth. We don't have your confidence just yet- that's expected. You haven't been there for the One's miracles so far, but this promises to be the biggest yet."<br/><br/>There was a cool, wet touch to the dazed aasimar's new tattoo as Prisine stepped through the tangle on the long beanpole legs of a nereid's child. She had to search for it to find it among the rest, erasing the ash of Rysse's touch as she did and leaving dirty dewdrops like the kind that gathered on Sigil's streets. "I've always known the truth of the Signers. I was immersed in the truth before I even learned to swim. Not everybody has that opportunity to understand the chant. To really understand it." Her body was narrow and hard and slippery against the drugged pair sliding over one another, crouched in an empty gesture of camraderie. She was sober and she was unbranded, and there was an equally lucid woman coming to fit her into a clean white sundress to start her day of politicking. "The Will draws many from among the disenfranchised. Talk is easy, but seeing real power, belief made material, that's special."</td></tr></tbody></table>