rattle the cage

ASHE I'm not a girl.    The storm never stopped. It howled in her ears, buffeted her dreams, flashed behind closed eyes -- it. never. stopped. She ignored it in favor of what she got back, pretending for all the world like there wasn't a constant roar in the background, howling at her what she had lost. She ignored it now, when she was left with only herself. Solitude was not the ally it had once been. So, it was in the bustling settlement she chose at the break of dawn. Listening to all the life outside as she trained was more comforting than she'd anticipated.    Dangling from an archway inside what was left of a building, Ashe let out a hiss of hair through clenched teeth as she repeatedly hauled herself up, until her chin touched the top of the stone arch. Sweat soaked her black shirt and gleamed on her pale skin. She'd been going since the sun rose, and her arms trembled as she lifted herself again.    Though she was no longer an assassin by definition, she sure as all hells was still training like she was -- even if every strained muscle wailed for her to stop. She had gotten too out of shape these last months, surviving on scrub roots and a small critter here and there if she was lucky. She couldn't afford to go lax on her training now.    So close to the street and situated not far from the Guildhall, she didn't think much of it when she heard something toward the front of the half-gone ruins. She had made it known where she'd be today to anyone in ear shot - she had no intention of being lost to anyone again. It wasn't until the unfamiliar scent hit her that she paused her workout, dropping down to land on nimble feet. Internal hackles raised, and she rolled the stiffness from her neck and shoulders as she scanned the crumbled walls and doorways.    Ashe called out to whoever wandered in as she wiped sweaty palms on her dark pants. "Can I help you?" I'm a storm with skin.