Even The Familiar Snake Will Bite (Open RP)

[Kaelyn Ianale]

Rumours spread throughout Galmair of a face familiar to some, less so to others - but undeniably unforgettable to all. Dark olive skin, eyes the colour of chocolate traced with swirling black ink, a face that is in the same moment inviting yet closed off. Those that know her name her Kaelyn, the desert wind, the fickle heart that is as quick to kiss with steel as she is with honey. What has drawn her from the island and in the shadow of so many that would do to forget her? Perhaps the fear of being forgotten.

Gravel crunched noisily beneath her feet, sore and cramped as they were in the old salt-stained boots that she wore. The walk had been far longer than anticipated, yet she was loathe to go barefoot as she so often did. The rocks were sharp, even for her, on this road. Mountain faces swept up left and right, and every now and then a loose pebble would tumble down - taunting her, threatening with larger boulders. It left Kaelyn uncharacteristically tense as she approached the town that lured her with the scent of fire smoke and clamor of life. Being a creature of habit and familiarity, she had a way of despising new places.

Galmair very much counted as new.

Yet there had been rumours on the wind as far beyond the coastline as Gobiath. Names, each of them familiar, were said to have swept to the mainlands - a place equal parts dangerous and fascinating to the desert woman. Albarians still wanted her head from incidents years in the past. Yet these cities, these villages had untapped potential. That and one particular person had gone in the direction of this city named Galmair. Seeking more rich... women to play up, to steal their hearts and their gold. They had made a pact so long ago. It was them against the world, come what may. Thus she had found herself upon a ship once more, heading west. Islands and waves and coastlines drifted past. Miles were walked. And in the end, it was to Galmair she ended up.

Pausing within the trade square, Kaelyn turned a slow look around. Something of the city felt familiar. It had the faintest similarities to Troll's Bane if one looked hard enough. Pursing her lips, the woman eased forward and perched herself upon the barrels stacked near the well. Running her tongue along her lower lip and tasting the salt upon it, she shook her head before sliding out a familiar old flute. Placing it to her lips, she played a warbling note that would be familiar only to some. Only to those that knew her truly. Her eyes closed and she played, a subtle calling.