What am I then when everything I've known is washed out
The dock is alive. It's familiar, but in all the wrong ways for her. Larger than the one in King's End by far, alarmingly so to her, what with all the ships coming and going. Different sizes glide in so close she's held her breath a time or two in preparation for the grind of hull upon hull, but it never comes, proof that among the chaos there is an organized element that escapes her. She imagines her ranch looks the same. Looked.
The reminder that she can only speak of it in past tense curls her fingers tighter around the blade in her hand. It begs for her attention to return to her task, because the dockwork is not her duty—Wyatt is out there with the ship they came on, trading their head and horses. It's earlier than it should be for the deals, and it's most all of them, normally a crippling thing for maintenance or growth, but she's ot limited places to put them all now so she's downsizing quite a bit.
Shaking her head to disperse those difficult thoughts, a decision she made but did not like, she resumes the much simpler process of sharpening her pocket knife. Staying with Edith in New Haven has upset her normal routine, and stupidly she left her bow and arrows back 'home'. The weaponry vendor has the tools she needs and would have done it for her given some extra coin, but she's short on spare spending and rather long on time and idle hands. This has always been easy too—working herself to something sharper. So she resumes the oiling of the whetstone, and with the steadiness of practice and the narrow focus of someone dodging a reality beyond a blade, she drags the metal heel across it with deliberate pressure and care.
Quest req: complete a thread sharpening a weapon by hand (an arrow, a blade etc.), considering the effort and finesse needed to perfect the edge.
The reminder that she can only speak of it in past tense curls her fingers tighter around the blade in her hand. It begs for her attention to return to her task, because the dockwork is not her duty—Wyatt is out there with the ship they came on, trading their head and horses. It's earlier than it should be for the deals, and it's most all of them, normally a crippling thing for maintenance or growth, but she's ot limited places to put them all now so she's downsizing quite a bit.
Shaking her head to disperse those difficult thoughts, a decision she made but did not like, she resumes the much simpler process of sharpening her pocket knife. Staying with Edith in New Haven has upset her normal routine, and stupidly she left her bow and arrows back 'home'. The weaponry vendor has the tools she needs and would have done it for her given some extra coin, but she's short on spare spending and rather long on time and idle hands. This has always been easy too—working herself to something sharper. So she resumes the oiling of the whetstone, and with the steadiness of practice and the narrow focus of someone dodging a reality beyond a blade, she drags the metal heel across it with deliberate pressure and care.
Quest req: complete a thread sharpening a weapon by hand (an arrow, a blade etc.), considering the effort and finesse needed to perfect the edge.
Colt
Don't care if there's pieces left to mend, If I stay broken I can't be broken again
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
