Zephyra stared at the soft pink silk ribbon that was stained with blood. It brought back that horrible memory of her friend standing there right before her eyes before her skulls was crushed to pulp by a giant ogre hand. Instinctually she had made them all pay. The ones that had been around at that moment had been reduced to mere red dust carried off by the wind. The remainder that came as back up had to deal with her angry mother, whom had slain them all using the very earth against them. But every time she saw this ribbon she thought of Nyssa and how innocent the girl was. How bubbly and carefree. It knotted her stomach.
 
It was that pit in her stomach that caused her to begin packing a bag. She wanted to go deep into the heart of Virens and tie the ribbon there where it belonged- at the end of their adventure. She had to sneak armfuls of rations from the kitchen, rolled up her blanket and an overcoat for the bite of northern chill. She would have to sneak away against her mother’s wishes. As soon as she filled canteens with water she set off and acquired an old grey mare just shortly outside the Red Court. Having the fastest horse didn’t matter and besides she needed enough money to bribe someone to go with her. She wouldn’t risk it alone again.
 
It was days of ride along the Highland territory and she managed to hide and avoid any orcish raiding parties that came through the area before the spears and swords of the Highland men got to them. The Highland men let her pass mostly without question, as she had no intention on staying her, but the few that did hold her up she played a bit of her mind warping with to persuade them to let her past.
 
Then she came upon it. A grand city with no gates and no walls and seemingly no fortifications to protect it. How it survived out here with orcs and goblins and all manner of foul raiding creatures seemed a mystery. Of course she had heard the tales as a child of the spirits and the war refugees and the pact they made together. Zephyra always thought such a thing was a pleasant bedtime story and nothing more to it than that. She thought they must have fortifications, but here they were standing and clearly never touched.
 

With a dagger at the hip of her riding breeches and long blouse, it felt eerie almost to approach the town. When she did she found a decent looking tavern. She didn’t want to pick one so high ranking she could not afford the help. So she stepped inside, her dark hair hanging around her pale face and dark eyes that seemed to glow red whenever she cast. Quickly she set an enchantment on the bartender to allow her to order some wine. She scanned the bar for prospects but unfortunately most were drunk. Then she thought she saw one who might make for a good guide and so she made overtly obvious eye contact with her.

Lajaka never though she'd get lost in the Highlands, but then, these weren't her Highlands. The geography was the same, and the hospitality was familiar enough, but the villages and forts she had hoped to find were gone. Might be there was something there— good ground was still good ground, after all— but she didn't recognize anything. No surprise, then, that she didn't recognize any of the people, either… including her ma.

As she wandered, Lajaka tried to come up with a plan. To the northeast was a port town, a peaceful place she'd been told. Peaceful? In the north? No, really, they'd told her. As the town of Cittapashe came into view, Lajaka wondered what sort of magical malarky was going on, for a place with no bloody walls to be peaceful.

When she arrived, Lajaka spent some coin— most of it her own— on a new tunic. She got a funny look when she paid the man, but silver was silver and he believed her without argument when she told him her coin was good. It was true, but Lajaka hadn't expected to have some an easy time convincing him of it. She got a good price, too, offering him below what it was worth, and expecting him to make a counter-offer, and then the usual back-and-forth would ensue until they both agreed. Instead, her initial offer had been accepted. Strange people, these were. Maybe there was something to the stories she'd heard after all.

There was a tavern nearby, and Lajaka decided a stiff drink was exactly what she needed while she figured out her next step. Again, she paid with her funny-looking coin, and again, it was accepted without argument. They didn't even mind that she had a sword at her hip! She found a table in the back, allowing her to watch anyone who came in after her. Lajaka wasn't really expecting her ma to come by, but it was worth keeping an eye out anyway, just in case.

It wasn't her ma, but a young woman with dark hair who caught her attention. The witch did something to the barkeep, then glanced around at everyone, and locked eyes with Lajaka. Well, alright.

Surprisingly, Lajaka didn't feel all that angry when she walked over to the young woman. "That wasn't very nice. Next time, try askin'."

Zephyra relaxed in a wooden barstool well-worn and well-polished as the bartender brought her a fragile little glass of a deep red wine. She was finding she had a taste for the more robust red than the gentler and fruitier white wines. She handed him two crescents to make up for her part in fiddling with his mind. As she looked around she saw many gambling games but none that got so out of hand that anyone was ever thrown out. No brawls started and no one seemed to cheat their way through things. It was almost as if an enchantment of kindness and friendship was blanketed over the town.
 
Her eyes flicked briefly over to the window where she looked out and reminded there were no walls. Zephyra had always been a studious girl and as such she went above and beyond her lessons. She likely knew more about the individual groups and houses of settled peoples than they did of each other. The Northern folk were tough and hardy and clans raided each other and took over rather than making peace. They were the warring sort and rough for the wear yet here they stood in an untouched city with nigh a defense to speak of.
 
She was distracted from her thoughts and the lack of fortress out of the window when the sound of boots creaking the wood hit her ears. Zephyra jerked her head to be sure it was not some old creep come to make her night miserable until she was forced to manipulate his mind. She was relieved- she thought- to find that it was the very rough hewn woman she had spotted across the tavern and had locked eyes with. She gestured to the seat next to her for her to have a seat. “Well, I have tried asking for wine. Most do not like serving it to someone my age whether I got plenty of coin or not.”
 
She set her glass on the smooth wooden bar top and then idly drummed her fingers in a monotonous and single pattern. “I wasn’t staring at you to be rude. I mean you look… fine and all for a woman. See, I am looking for someone like you. Someone who can get me in the Virens forest heart.” Zephyra reached in her pocket and pulled out a pale pink ribbon riddled with blood stains. “Her name was Nyssa. She was the most sweet and innocent girl I knew. No weird powers like me. She went with me on my name day, you see, to explore the forest and an ogre crushed her skull like fruit.” She hung her head, her dark hair concealing what could have been tears. “It was my fault. And she deserves to see the end.”
 

When she looked up, it looked as though her cheeks were a bit pinkish from drying and the crying had stopped. Slowly Zephyra reached out with her mind and tried to read her. She was not trying to manipulate her or sway her, only get a sense of who she was a person.

She was an odd duck, Lajaka decided. Younger than Lajaka, yes, but too young for wine? "Where I'm from, most women your age are lookin' for husbands, if they wasn't already married. Can't see why you can't get wine. You're plenty old enough, an' you can pay for it." Taking the seat the young woman offered, Lajaka set her mug of whiskey on the counter. It tasted a bit like home.

Home. Where was home? Was there a way back? Lajaka didn't know. She didn't think it was possible, however, not after the portal closed. Besides, her world was collapsing, and now there might not be anything to go back to. This world seemed similar, however, and might have some of the same people. Her ma might be here, in some form, Lajaka just had to find her. Somehow, she also had to make a life for herself in this new world… which wasn't easy when, technically, no one knew who she was.

The lass babbled on, and Lajaka snorted in laughter at one of her comments. Fine for a woman? Who was she? Was that why a barkeep wasn't like to serve her anything? Because the drink made her daft?

She pulled out a ribbon and spoke about a friend, recently lost going by the emotion in her voice. Exploring a forest, and killed by an ogre. What were they doing exploring a forest that had ogres, Lajaka wanted to know. And while she understood the need to get a bit of closure, how was taking a ribbon into that very same forest going to help?

Then she felt it, a bit like fingers reaching into her head and poking about. Her body stiffened, and she made to swat the hand away, but there wasn't one. Magic, Lajaka thought, and narrowed her eyes at the younger woman. "I don't know who you are, and right now I don't give a shit about your sad little story, assumin' it's true. You're actin' like a brat who don't know how to take no for an answer, and you use magic to manipulate people if you don't get your way. You want help? Learn how to ask nicely."

The rough woman mentioned that things were done a bit differently where she was from. That at her age she’d likely have been married off to some man and have a babe strapped to her teat for some time. While that may have been the will and the ways of most young commoner girls, her mother was a Goddess and most everyone where she went knew, without her mind meddling, whose daughter she was. They would not dare risk angering the Mother by giving her daughter wine when she might not want her to have it, nor would they want her in their establishment where they might be held personally accountable for her safety.
 
“Maybe so but here, without my mind meddling, folks don’t want me in their taverns. I am a liability because of my mother. They wouldn’t want to be held accountable to Angela for my safety.” Zephyra shrugged as if it was more a minor annoyance than anything else. Truthfully, she could get out of just about anything with her mind magics and it proved to be most useful while she was exploring. “Where is home for you, anyway? They say folks are falling out of portals. Me, I was born here,” she added off-handedly.
 
Lajaka seemed to find some humor in her comments, especially about her looking ‘fine’ as a woman. Though, she truly meant it. Lajaka did look fine for a woman even if she was a bit rough around the edges. Certainly she wasn’t a refined and fairytale beauty like her mother but very few women were. Then, suddenly, as she tried to procure exactly what type of person Lajaka was, she saw the demeanor change in the woman. That said something. Not many could even tell when she poked around in their mind.
 
“No need to get uptight and grumpy. I wasn’t trying to manipulate you, just trying to see what kind of person you are. People. They don’t always tell the truth.” She giggled quietly and nervously. Who was to say that Lajaka wasn’t going to just pop out her sword or a dagger and lop her sweet head off right then and there. “And I’m not lying. Her name was Nyssa. She was one of the sweetest most innocent girls that lived. She didn’t deserve to die,” she added crossly.
 
When she downed the glass of wine, the barkeep was quick to get her another because she tipped well. She gave him three crescents, the drink only costing one and the rest was money he could pocket. “I was trying to ask nicely. And I would pay you well. Fifty crescents. If you don’t think that’s fair, make an offer and I’ll see if I can pay it. It’s just… my fault she’s dead and I want to bring her to where we would have gone if we had made it.” Her body already rested in the forest but where she wanted to take the ribbon was much further than the grave.