Ishgard was not exactly the place she visited very often; Amal was more a woman of the outdoors and loneliness of the forever standing mountains in the most northern regions of the Kingdom of Ravaryn. Even though she was an extravert at heart, the lass cherished the times when it was just her and her steady white steed. The one person that she did enjoy having around was her horse, but she stood lonely at the top of that list, though. The raven-haired beauty did not have many friends or acquaintances she liked, either. Amal would forever be the lonesome nomad, not ever bound by loyalty or family.

Obscure clouds started to appear at the horizon, and not before long rain began to fall down from the gloomy heavens above the capital city. Amal tilted her head slightly upwards to face the sky directly, while cursing mutely under her breath, considering that she was not dressed for this type of weather – not today, however. Her deep brown orbs hovered back from the air to start their search for a dry hiding place, something like a tavern or a shop. It did not take her long to locate a tavern in the corner of her right eye. Since there was no other place to seek shelter anywhere in sight, the woman decided to step inside the building rapidly before she got soaked to the bone.

As soon as the lass placed both her feet on the wooden floor, her focus fell on the counter located in the back of the tavern. Without hesitating she made her way to the tavern owner, took place on one of the bar stools and ordered a whisky. While waiting for her drink to arrive, Amal couldn’t help it but to let her sight wander around the shady room. A young man, probably a little older than she was, sat a few meters away from her current position. Normally, the dark-haired lass would have avoided contact with other people, but there was something about this mysterious man that instantly kept her attention span locked on his face. It was as if there was no escaping from the hints of black in the other man’s deep brown orbs. She felt how a cold shiver ran down her spine, while almost knowing instinctively that the stranger had something to do with that. But despite the unpleasant feeling the man gave, she still could not resist the urge to make verbal contact with him. And so, she did. “Cheers.” Amal spoke, raising her glass of whisky that had just been delivered by the tavern owner.

Octavian Aetos

Without breaking off their little eye game, the raven-haired lass took another sip of her half empty whiskey glass. The liquor’s warmth poured down her throat, burning away a few cells in the process – she did not mind, though. Right now, the alcohol was a welcoming feeling in her hollow stomach. Amal had not eaten breakfast or lunch yet, so it was no surprise she felt so shakily on her legs when she had entered the tavern several minutes ago. The whiskey would surely take advantage of that, too. Normally, she could handle alcohol just fine, but a little voice in the back of her mind told her that today would be different. It was common knowledge that alcohol and an empty stomach did not go hand in hand.

Retrieving her attention span back to reality and the dark-haired handsomeness on the stool beside her, Amal waved at the bartender for another whiskey. The lass turned her body a few degrees in the man’s direction, allowing her to fully examine his features in the back of her mind. He was tall – that was the first thing that appealed to her. Thick, luscious locks of black hair framed his face, and eyes as dark as midnight complemented his appearance. They drew her in, unwillingly, as if she had no control over her own mind anymore.

For a minute, she averted her gaze away from the man and his intense stare. What the hell was she doing? She had no business here in the city but to find a new bounty hunt to pay her landlord next month’s rent. Instead, she was somewhat flirting with this stranger – who obviously would not pay the rent in her place. The bartender caught her attention when he placed a new glass of alcoholic beverage in front of her. Oh well, one glass and a friendly chatter could not hurt, right?

“Well, what brings your type to this shabby tavern? I don’t often meet your degree of handsomeness around here – not that you hear me complain.” Amal started, trying to sound a tad flirty, but she would probably look hilarious to the man.