Donovan was rattling off a plan. It made Methuseld... envious? Ashamed? He was still thinking on his feet, still coming up with plans, and she'd almost managed to get herself caught as if it was her first day out in the world by herself. Though... really, it almost was. Last night she'd been a pawn, moved about the board by a magical hand. The last time she'd had the freedom to get herself in street chases was years ago, and even then she'd been a noblewoman. But that was all excuses.<br/><br/>She'd commanded legions of men, and if she could lead others to the pit of hell and safely out the other side, she could do it to herself. She listened to Donovan's plan, shaking her head as he spoke. She didn't like it. But she didn't have much time to say so - he seized, slumping against the sun-dried earthen alley wall, then fell onto her. She rose, caught him, slowly lowered him down to the ground so he wouldn't hurt himself. Gloved fingers checked his eyes, still rolled up in their sockets. "Awaken! Snap out of it!" A couple of gentle slaps across the cheek, as gentle as steel-clad slaps could be, and soon he was up. She breathed a sigh, opened her mouth to speak, but not missing a beat, he was already coming up with the plan for them to get out of town. On foot? No, that wouldn't work. He was up, running off. Bundle of energy, that one was. Methuseld glared at him as he ran off, then sighed annoyedly and shouted after him before he disappeared behind a corner. "I'll have four horses ready at the stables, meet me there!"<br/><br/>Pulling the dark bloomers off to reveal the precious golden silk that grew atop her head, Methuseld searched around. Alleyways were often good places to dry ones clothes - not too much foot traffic resulted in fewer clothes being stolen and put on blondes' heads to hide them from thugs. As she'd noticed at Kulratha, blondes weren't exactly a common sight among the natives of the Chaos Desert; she guessed the other side of the Circle Sea was no different. She found a cloak - dark brown, heavy, far too long for her despite her stature, but she grabbed it anyways. Still a little damp, too, but she'd make do. The sun would take care of it soon enough.<br/><br/>The hood pulled down across her face to her most of her features from view, the rest of the cloak wrapped around her armor to hide its glinting surface from the sun's revealing rays, she looked every bit a desert dweller. Through the cloak's heaviness and the strange lumpiness of the person it concealed, nearly anyone with a discerning eye could guess that armor and sword awaited unfriendly strangers beneath the thick garment. That did not trouble Methuseld in the least - the more people stayed away from her, the longer she could delay what now seemed inevitable to her: that whatever lurked in her armor would soon find its way out.<br/><br/>Her disguise now complete, the woman strode confidently out of the alley. Stopping an old woman with her commanding presence, Methuseld did her best to fake a Kulrathi accent. "Stables - where are they?" The woman pointed - over the tops of the crowds' heads, the warrior could just barely make out the tips of a structure. The city gate, perhaps? No doubt the stables would be near there - she didn't see many horses here that hadn't come from or were going to a ship. Making up her mind, she strode off, preoccupied mind not bothering to offer a thank you to the aging hag. Making sure to occasionally check her peripheral vision as best she could and to contort her perfect posture to lower her height as Donovan had advised, she headed off toward the gate, pushing, shoving, slipping between throngs of people who did much the same.<br/><br/>Four horses - an expensive proposition. On her back was still the heavy bag of supplies packed for a long desert trip - but none of those could be traded or else their journey through the desert would end quite a bit sooner than expected. She thought about trading her armor, but before the dark spirit even had a chance to respond, she figured she wouldn't be able to get rid of it anyways. And she certainly wouldn't want to dump it on someone else, even if she could. Not to mention, armor of this quality was probably worth ten horses - inlaid gold didn't come cheap. Well... so long as the constabulary was chasing them, she might as well steal the damn horses. To hell with this city, and Kulratha, and assassins. Damn them all, Methuseld would live through this.<br/><br/>Unless she got spotted by thugs, and surrounded, and attacked, on the way to the stables. Then, who knew what would happen. But that's what disguises were for, right??