"Should've knocked first. I'd have made tea."
The stranger's voice was cool and calm, the voice of one as accustomed to darkness as Sarya herself. In response, Sarya smirked. "A tea party! I'd have worn something more fitting for that." Despite her discomfort with how the stranger had managed to sneak up on her, Sarya appreciated the woman's wit. Taking a closer look, she saw that Wessex had short, light-colored hair and pale skin. She couldn't tell the color of the woman's eyes in the dark, but she was intrigued by the way they flickered in the torchlight. They were almost... menacing. She wondered if people had ever felt that way about the way she looked at them.
Though Sarya didn't know it, she was at a disadvantage. Accepted, Abandoned, Attuned... she had heard of none of them, and even if she had, she wouldn't have known what they meant. In truth, she had yet to discover her own power, having come from a world without magic (or, at least, not accessible magic--how did she end up here, if not magic?). Still, magic would have been easier to swallow than the enhanced abilities of the Ascended. As an assassin, finding something immortal would make her very uncomfortable. What kind of freak can't die?
But alas, Sarya remained naive to the ways of this world. That would be something to worry her at another time.
When Wessex reached out to brush a strand of hair behind Sarya's ear, the women stiffened. Again, she fought the itch to reach for her weapons; she would never get to them in time, not with the stranger standing so close. But Sarya wanted no part of this... touching. In an already uncomfortable situation, the stranger's movement felt somehow predatory to the assassin. She was not accustomed to people invading her personal space without invitation. Her mind flashed briefly to Edrei; but that had been different, a mutual flirtation. Flirtation required a certain amount of physicality. Meeting a stranger in the dark, damp underground? Not so much.
Wessex was still too close, but Sarya stubbornly held her ground. If she backed away, that meant that the stranger won, and Sarya couldn't have that. She tried to analyze her options, but struggled: the stranger was clad in leather and cloth, an ensemble that suggested she had at least some understanding of combat. Arm guards told Sarya that the stranger knew how to use a bow; she wondered if Wessex had any training with other weapons or hand-to-hand combat.
"What are you looking for...?"
A moment passes before she answers the stranger's question. Truth be told, Sarya doesn't know why she entered the underground tunnels. She liked the dark, but she had no real purpose. Finally, she shrugged. "I'm not looking for anything. Just exploring." She shrugged, not wanting to give away too much. Trust was hard to come by for the young thief, who was used to living looking over her shoulder. A beat passed, and then: "Aren't you cold?" Sarya wore more clothing than the stranger, and even she felt the chill. What was Wessex doing in the cave, and why had she not come more well-prepared?
"talk"
s a r y a
If I were dead
I wouldn't be sad
I wouldn't be glad
Because I wouldn't be
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