It's noisier accommodation than she's used to, but Misty likes the tavern fine. Her comings and goings are consistent; regular hours kept, dinners often taken in the form of whatever pub food will reach her fastest, an hour or two spent mingling after that before she turns in for the night. There's visible damage every time she returns — bruises along the exposed portion of her midriff, a split lip, scores of cuts and raw patches where exposed skin met rock — the worst of it displayed earliest in the week, before she's invested in leather armor and the cheapest spear she could find. When possible she'll steer herself toward faces she recognizes, but the ratio of people to available seats works against her as often as not. It turns out the locals are friendly enough, and her initial discomfort is quick to fade.
A day or so into port she'll drop herself into the first available seat near someone else from the Peregrine, the air about her more focused than casual. Leaning in to give her murmur the best chance she can against the background din she asks, "Have you heard anything about this whole paling thing? Any idea how you 'recharge' a rock?"
(Or more mundanely, perhaps she's proposing some trade for whatever's on their plate. The owners aren't as sympathetic to a stolen purse as she hopes a fellow traveler may be.)
II. Mines
As invigorating as she finds the bustle and heat of the city at large, the mines reveal themselves very quickly to have the most of consequence going on. There's a lot of draw, between general curiosity, fascination with the idea of the fiends, money to replace what's spent on food, souvenirs, and necessary armor, and a clearly disastrous situation that deserves inspection, whether or not anyone currently on-ship is capable of correcting it. Excluding short excursions to the market in the morning and afternoon this is the bulk of where she spends each day, pleased to be of some use.
She can be found:
—— Laboriously dragging the remains of a fiend behind her, roughed up and disheveled already from the process of fighting it. Upon sighting anyone she can reasonably expect to not be some grave robber she hurries through a few emotions, all visible on her face — it's a relief to see them, then some modest joy that she aims to rein in, and just as quickly it all drops out and she can only look sheepishly from the newcomer to her haul.
"Don't suppose you look at the boards, do you? Know what parts people were looking for? I remember something about bats, but not the, uh, specifics."
And has consequently resigned herself to dragging the entire thing back to where she could check. Unless of course, they remember enough to lighten the load.
—— Deep in the mines, precariously lifting and tipping some expired explorer into a slowly-filling cart. As delicate as she means to be, even the partially-decomposed are heavy, and she's relying as much on her own physical strength as she can for fear of being stumbled upon displaying anything she'd rather not.
The embarrassment is much more prominent here, as upon noticing another presence she's quick to throw up both of her dirtied hands. It looks weird. She knows.
"This is less creepy than it looks," she promises, wincing. When you have to say it, it's likely already difficult to believe. "I want to see if I can get some of these guys back to the outside." She gestures to the cart, then pauses to wipe sweat from her brow. "Some of them were probably here for the wrong reasons, but a lot of them must have families, right? Gotta be something they do with dead folk here."
A beat. "Could I ask you for a hand?"
The cart's gotten heavy.
III. Market
Having gotten thoroughly lost and physically brushed aside far more than she'd care to admit after first encountering it, Misty does her level best to only enter the marketplace in the morning or evening and exit as soon as it feels too crowded to comfortably go from A to B. (This last goal proves nearly impossible. It's a high-demand area, and she's certainly not the only one to try this approach.) It does come much closer to bearable, however, and she's only slightly less likely to stop and chat here than in the mines.
She can be encountered:
—— Being physically swept out of the way and into another person's path, increasingly more irate than apologetic. —— Paying entirely too much at nearly any stall, having never had to haggle before in her life. Those who prove adept at it may prove a valuable enough resource to tail for a brief time. Don't mind her. —— Ducking close as one passes, quickly indicating an item (she's easily won over by anything eye-catching or sharp, but textiles and small metalwork will draw her in always) and asking in a hurried tone where it was purchased, and what a fair price is.
Misty Day | OTA
It's noisier accommodation than she's used to, but Misty likes the tavern fine. Her comings and goings are consistent; regular hours kept, dinners often taken in the form of whatever pub food will reach her fastest, an hour or two spent mingling after that before she turns in for the night. There's visible damage every time she returns — bruises along the exposed portion of her midriff, a split lip, scores of cuts and raw patches where exposed skin met rock — the worst of it displayed earliest in the week, before she's invested in leather armor and the cheapest spear she could find. When possible she'll steer herself toward faces she recognizes, but the ratio of people to available seats works against her as often as not. It turns out the locals are friendly enough, and her initial discomfort is quick to fade.
A day or so into port she'll drop herself into the first available seat near someone else from the Peregrine, the air about her more focused than casual. Leaning in to give her murmur the best chance she can against the background din she asks, "Have you heard anything about this whole paling thing? Any idea how you 'recharge' a rock?"
(Or more mundanely, perhaps she's proposing some trade for whatever's on their plate. The owners aren't as sympathetic to a stolen purse as she hopes a fellow traveler may be.)
II. Mines
As invigorating as she finds the bustle and heat of the city at large, the mines reveal themselves very quickly to have the most of consequence going on. There's a lot of draw, between general curiosity, fascination with the idea of the fiends, money to replace what's spent on food, souvenirs, and necessary armor, and a clearly disastrous situation that deserves inspection, whether or not anyone currently on-ship is capable of correcting it. Excluding short excursions to the market in the morning and afternoon this is the bulk of where she spends each day, pleased to be of some use.
She can be found:
III. Market
Having gotten thoroughly lost and physically brushed aside far more than she'd care to admit after first encountering it, Misty does her level best to only enter the marketplace in the morning or evening and exit as soon as it feels too crowded to comfortably go from A to B. (This last goal proves nearly impossible. It's a high-demand area, and she's certainly not the only one to try this approach.) It does come much closer to bearable, however, and she's only slightly less likely to stop and chat here than in the mines.
She can be encountered:
IV. Wildcard
[Just fuck me up.]