Who: Scar (
lonestray) & Teresa (
faintly-smiles)
When: Evening of
this conversation takes place
Where: Folkehaven Library
Format: Paragraph, past-tense
What: After so many months of interesting conversations, Teresa and Scar finally meet face-to-face. Like most conversations, it will probably have poor moments.
Warnings: None yet.
The city was once again cast in shadows, and she was used to being beyond the city walls by that point. It was rare that she stayed in the city, especially when there was a large hub-bub starting to be set up. She had no interest in festivals and gatherings of people; she had out-grown such matters years before. She enjoyed her solitary nomadic life after all, but tonight was a special event in her books. It was a day to put on the books if she bothered to carry one.
The library was closest to the higher-class neighbourhood, and she had met that little demon boy here a month or so ago. He had disappeared along with his youki, so she was under the assumption he either went home or was eaten by monsters that lurked in the Mist. That was how life went, and those not strong enough would perish regardless of their efforts. It was too bad; the boy had been nice if a bit of a dreamer. Yuuri had eased the silent loneliness that Clare had created in her, but she simply sealed it away again.
Tonight though... she would meet an obvious curiosity. She couldn't remember exactly when she had started to bug him, prod at the obvious scars that he laid to bear over the Forge. His tone, his words and most of all his reactions reminded her painfully of herself in her younger years, though she was always less bitter over her fate. She knew he had an interesting past, different from the common story of a warrior. He was also very easy to carry a conversation with because he didn't trust her; it was a sense of normal she could enjoy.
Scar; it wasn't his real name she knew. An oddly serious conversation revolving around names had broken down the last threads of stubbornness, and he had relented into finally meeting her face-to-face. Now, what would she be able to see with her silver eyes? Would he see her as a silver-eyed witch? She hoped so; no one else seemed to, and it was a title that would at least let her feel something from home.
Standing near the entrance of the library, Teresa was watching the few people heading towards the festival, waiting for one to stand out. A smile was on her lips, her most common characteristic as she waited for Scar to appear. Of course, she still carried her Claymore, but it was clipped into the hanging sheathe on her back. She hoped the big blade wouldn't scare him too much; she doubted it. He might relish a physical confrontation. She would hate to have to make his name literal.