64th of Summer, 513AV
Just beyond the city walls, not skulking and hidden, but far enough away from the road that she might not be noticed by any passers by, a young woman waits, resting against a dark brown horse, who was grazing on the lush green grass. The woman herself had berries in her hand, black berries, as most were now ripe enough to pick and eat. Most she had now already eaten, and her hands were stained magenta with their juices,but the woman clearly did not care, having enjoyed her treat.
Here she was, again, waiting. The runaway slave, the young woman who had previously promised herself that she would never stay in one single place for too long, was now, once again, waiting outside the gates of Syliras. In the two years that Isalie had been free, she had never remained in one place for more than she needed to, travelling with caravans of merchants and other travellers. This was partially because she never made any connection with anyone, and so never felt the need to stick around somewhere. More than that, though, she had been so terrified of someone coming to look for her that she had been careful to make sure that no one knew her name, and most barely knew her face.
Syliras was the busiest city she had ever been in, something with which calmed and terrified the girl. Worse still, the Knights of Syliras, whom Isalie would shy away from every time she saw them; her paranoia was bad enough that, even though she knew she had done nothing wrong, she feared they would do something to her anyway. But here she was, almost a whole Season had passed since she arrived in the Wildlands of Sylira and made her way over to the big city. And she had arranged to meet the harlot again.
At their first meeting, Isalie had been amazed at how easily she fell into comfort at being around him. Her guard had dropped more than she ever let it fall around anyone else, and she hadn't even done it consciously.
Isalie strokes her horse's neck as she stares up at the high walls surrounding the city as she waits. As always, she was early for her meeting, the welts on her back being a painful reminder that she was inferior to everyone around her, and that she should never keep anyone waiting. It was a lesson that stuck with her. She wasn't even too sure what she was doing here. Waiting for Matthew, you idiot. She growls internally, trying not to think too much, lest she manages to talk herself out of it and leave before Matthew arrives.
But she does continue to think; I can't do this... her fingers grip at Shadow's mane as the battle begins in her mind. You agreed, it could be good for you. Nothing good can come out of this. What about all her suggested? You could have a job, a future. Assuming I don't flinch every time someone touches me. You didn't flinch what Matthew touched you. A whine of frustration escapes her lips as her own consciousness tries to talk sense into her. But she couldn't work out which part was talking sense.
"I can't do this..." she mutters as she turns around, away from the gates, dropping her hand from the horse's mane to pick up his reigns. "C'mon, Shadow, let's go..."