Kastivi's smile was contagious in the sense that it just seemed to keep growing as Christoval approached. He was handsome. Very handsome. His blue eyes were like reflective pools, at once taking in the atrocities of the world and taking pity on it, a willingness to fight and die for it should the need arise. Where Kastivi was all fire, Christoval was all ice, snow white hair, pale skin, icy eyes. The two were the most unlikely pair, and they were situated together, freezing Yin to the burning Yang. Now, she stood, forcing her smile to be a bit more tamed, re-setting the mugs on the counter and straightening her clothes.
She didn't look much like the locals either, still after all of these years wearing the uniform of the Southern nations of sturdy, but well worn, well worked cloth, the color of earth, the top tight about her chest but exposing her midriff, her pants a comfortably fitting loose but not in the way. She'd earned her fair share of sideways glances, but most pointed at her and Arabella with a sense of reverence; everyone knowing immediately that the Daughters were here on some sort of official mission and wondering which one they would successfully complete—and who would be lucky enough to get them. They were bastions of light, a light that to Kastivi's dismay, could not be overlooked or unnoticed. “Ara is generally so even tempered. I was amazed to see her behave like that with Wisp. I wonder what kind of history they have,” Kastivi finally said with a sort of nervous laugh and an equally as nervous eyeroll. “I'm just hoping that they'll figure out a way to keep the peace, or that they are willing to overlook their differences for the sake of the world.”
She picked up her mug, blushing at the fact that he went to pick up his own as well as Wisp's. She'd intended to just bring them over, but was glad for the company. “If it...if it makes you feel any better, I don't think knights are stupid. The world could use some good, and it's up to us to put it there, yeah?”
=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Percival Gray opened his inn door at the sound of knocking, wincing at the sound of the merrymaking emanating from the bar downstairs. It was loud, and he'd at least appreciated the fact that it was somewhat muffled with the door closed, now, with this nervous looking messenger in front of him there was nothing to separate him from the noise and he looked at the poor messenger with tired eyes, expecting the visitor to say something. He didn't, so Percy said something first: “....Yes?”
“Uhm...Uhm...Here!” The messenger couldn't have been more than ten, a lean lanky boy with shaggy brown hair looked up at the tall mage who in turn took out the paper that was being held up to him, his eyes quickly taking in the contents. “Arabella Fairfoot, eh? I've worked with her befo---And Wisp!? Who the bloody hells put together this list, and further, who the bloody hells assigned me to it?!”
The boy, expecting a strong, kind, jovial mage had all of his expectations shattered, and took a step back, his eyes wide, “S-sir, I'm just the messenger.”
Percy's eyes went back down to the boy, having to travel quite a ways down given his height, and he sighed, “Tell them I'll do it, but only because I have to. Getting paired with Wisp and two younglings is not the kind of job I signed up for. I'll be healing more from infighting than actual battles.”
“T-to be fair, sir, sir, Ara's apprentice isn't new. She's been her apprentice for years now, and she shows promise, sir,” the boy stammered, wringing his hands.
“What about the other one? This Christoval fellow?”
“He doesn't seem to be bad, sir. Talk of the guild says it's a miracle he's still alive giv'n his tutelage, s-sir.”
Percival scoffed and shut the door, plopping back down on his bed with a tired sigh. Undoubtedly, he at least had until dawn before he had to worry about the likes of that party.