The Underdark. Finally. She should be scared, afraid of what awaited her. A small part of her even felt anticipation, dread, the threat of being destroyed, but it mattered not. For long years she had pursued every hint of knowledge, sought understanding of and entrance to this world of Drow, had finally found confirmation of a rumour that had sounded far too good, a wild dream that could not possibly come true. Never had she wanted anything more, never had doubt been more prominent in her mind, too well did she know the one thing blinding people to anything else was their deepest longing, their heart's desire, apparently in their reach. She had had no intention to fall into a trap she used herself with such efficiency.<br/><br/>But it had withstood all probing, her precious information, it had been true, all of it, and now, here she was, walking in single file over and along smoothed stones, in utter silence. Already she was cut off from life above with blessed finality. She drank in the beauty of this world she wanted to make a home, never doubting the way was correct. She knew this path - for more it hardly was, being this narrow - lead towards her destiny, she had learned every twist and turn by heart, and found every single landmark just as described. Surely the path would be watched, more often and more closely so the nearer it wound towards this remarkable city where surface dwellers were welcome, goods sold and bought, bargains awaited.<br/><br/>Days later, and although it was more difficult to keep trace of time down here, Ciara could hold on to her inner sense of time, as she had hoped, a slippery, treacherous descent awaited, and then, the first outpost. The gruffness of the Drow did not surprise her, being what they were, how else should these superior creatures treat mere humans? There was only a very slight unease gnawing away at her, unrelated to their lack of politeness. Half an hour later, she groomed her body, hair and face to perfection, changed into appealing and revealing clothes, added jewellery. Perfection, her travelling companions might notice, was an adequate term to describe the body none of them had ever seen much of before, its youthful, immaculate skin, symmetry and proportions were a marvel, its beauty stunning, confirming every rumour that had been spread in the city that once had been their home.<br/><br/>There was a reason for her preparations, they were close, now to the city itself, and she meant to make an impression that did not belie either her beauty or her wealth, she was a woman of patience, who knew how long they would be expected to live as common traders outside the city's heart, for how long they would be waiting, what they might need to offer for to be transformed into the proud mighty beings they admired? One must not come a beggar, but hold promise, show the advantage awaiting those willing to let her live, make use of her talents, have dealings with her. Thus, she approached the city dressed in the finest fabrics and colours found above ground, in all her beauty, carrying goods highly desirable and almost impossible to come by, especially for Drow.<br/><br/>Then, it spread before her hungry eyes, this jewel gleaming in the dark, Archrand, seat of all her hopes. She admired it, craved to melt into it, even dwelling on its outskirts would be better than anything humankind could offer. Ignoring the dangers, grace and confidence in every movement and posture, she passed the caravans, evaluating the goods and slaves they offered, drinking in every scrap of information whatever she saw offered, ready to make the best of use of it. To the leering glances she reacted with her famous smile, understanding, amusement and promise in her eyes, a connaisseuse's smile that told she did not offer herself, but provided those who performed whatever services might be wanted.<br/><br/>She was pleased to find her skill for providing sexual pleasures and amusement perfectly matching her clients' tastes and needs, their most secret, most profound desires, even, no matter what they might be, could prove just as useful here as it had been above ground. Quick to adopt the customs of the watching Drow, and thus ignoring the inferior male, her eyes sought Kamilsa's, when the other woman spoke, to exchange a quick glance of complicity with her, expecting the other would be just as pleased as she herself was upon finding that one of their favourite weapons, sex, promised an advantage here, too. To the warrior she was quite unfamiliar with, who bore a name Ciara only knew as male, but who was a shadow mage, too, and female, though she hardly looked the part, she gave a polite nod in passing, while Irena even extracted a smile from her.<br/><br/>She caught up with Kamilsa, who apparently, and most conveniently so, had just opened the door to the magistrate's office, through which Ciara now stepped, taking precedence as if it were her right, which, at least to some degree, it certainly ought to be, as it was not at all likely that without her assistance, any of the others would ever have found this place. But she had no intention to make herself prominent or a spokeswoman of the group, since all that bound the selfish lot together was a common interest, as soon as parting with the others seemed the better alternative, they would scatter like leaves in the storm. Perfectly comfortable with remaining in the background as long as it meant she also remained in control, she moved aside, curious to see who would want to appear to be in charge of matters. Irena, perhaps, in her habitual though often hidden arrogance that must have sprung from an upbringing that once, long before her fall, must have given her a high standing?