<strong>Name:</strong>Corrine Reynaud<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Countess<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Queen's reception room<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open<br/><br/>A long journey, finally reaching one of it’s greatest peaks. The dark haired beauty from Red Harbor found herself at a crossroads. There was either acceptation, and the opportunity to make something of herself, or rejection and to be damned to fill the ranks of the army of the Sisterhood. For many of the women who filled the Queen’s reception hall, there may have been a feeling of worry, or uncertainty. But within Countess Corrine’s mind there was easy assurance that both her lineage and extensive training would win her this day, and she would easily become a companion.<br/><br/>She stood the culmination of well over a decade of hard training with a singular purpose in mind. She was born to be a companion to a worthy prince, and the look in her eyes said as much to anyone that looked upon her. Her normally care free demeanor was taken over by a driven woman bent on accomplishing her goals to the fullest. And as much as the simple white chemise the Sisterhood stuck her in tried to make her look normal and not unlike the others, she felt she was simply a different breed. The other ladies there, some were of noble birth, some of lesser blood. Such things could be told by their heritage and how they carried themselves. But all of them had been sisters for longer than her, and she assumed that meant they had been completely brainwashed by their fallacies of loyalty.<br/><br/>Corrine was new to her sisters, and almost a stranger. Having only joined the Sisterhood six months prior after two years of being denied opportunities to become a companion. Some whispered it was due to her Ahdenii blood, and Corrine was prone to believe such things no matter their merit, as long as the blame did not lay with herself. In a fit of frustration, her father sent her to become a sister and hopefully increase her chances. Which seemingly she accomplished considering the place she found herself in.<br/><br/>Her fingers twitched, missing the feel of her crossbow in her hand, and the grooves of the dagger she kept along her belt. Both of which were tucked away nearby, and she would only arm herself once the Queen had chosen her. They were parting gifts from her father, though she certainly wished he would have allowed her to take some of her clothes from home at the least as well. The women of the east had such foul taste in attire it was almost painful to look at in Corrine’s eyes.<br/><br/>She fidgeted and brushed her hair back over her shoulder, beginning to become impatient. The time of choosing was imminent now, and for as much confidence as she held, there was still the nervous energy. A eagerness to get started on her true journey.