Aurelia
Wandering the settlement, moving with purpose - it could be either in Aurelia's case. What draws her attention are the onlookers she walks by as they gossip. Her green eyes turn in their direction, to follow their looks and see a red-haired woman walking down the street. She can't see the woman's face, vaguely noticing how proper and graceful she holds herself.
Aurelia's question is this: who is Evie Wordsworth? Must have been someone from here, she can gather that much. Everything else remains unknown, at least to her. The interesting thing is that Evie doesn't wander, she heads straight to a building that looks abandoned, unlocking it with a key as though it were any other day.
Aurelia pauses on a street corner to watch as the woman blooms a half-dead plant, and her dark eyebrows raise up a fraction. She has half a mind to simply turn the corner and keep walking, maybe find a shop that sells good food so she can carry on. Banish the ideas and curiosity from her mind and move on with her life. Yet, as people pass her, they keep murmuring about Evie Wordsworth.
So she approaches the front door but stops at the doorstep. Her gaze flickers up to the run-down bits of the building, the bits that make the door hang slightly ajar as it lies open; the debris that skitters out past her feet, taken with the breeze. "Looks like this place could use a little TLC," she comments casually as she reaches up to test the door, only then glancing over at the woman, "Are you... Evie, by any chance?" Conspiratorial in nature, she leans in a little and tosses her thumb over her shoulder, murmuring, "'Cause I think everybody out there is talking about you."
Aurelia's question is this: who is Evie Wordsworth? Must have been someone from here, she can gather that much. Everything else remains unknown, at least to her. The interesting thing is that Evie doesn't wander, she heads straight to a building that looks abandoned, unlocking it with a key as though it were any other day.
Aurelia pauses on a street corner to watch as the woman blooms a half-dead plant, and her dark eyebrows raise up a fraction. She has half a mind to simply turn the corner and keep walking, maybe find a shop that sells good food so she can carry on. Banish the ideas and curiosity from her mind and move on with her life. Yet, as people pass her, they keep murmuring about Evie Wordsworth.
So she approaches the front door but stops at the doorstep. Her gaze flickers up to the run-down bits of the building, the bits that make the door hang slightly ajar as it lies open; the debris that skitters out past her feet, taken with the breeze. "Looks like this place could use a little TLC," she comments casually as she reaches up to test the door, only then glancing over at the woman, "Are you... Evie, by any chance?" Conspiratorial in nature, she leans in a little and tosses her thumb over her shoulder, murmuring, "'Cause I think everybody out there is talking about you."
What is clear is what is gold
You're only human after all
You're only human after all
