Everything was fresh and new, alarmingly so; not knowing the nature of her surroundings could warrant a swift death sentence, and the inherent anxieties inspired by this unfamiliar land were only exacerbated by the replacement of her crossbow with a flimsy toy made of material she could not begin to name. Though she endeavored to keep her wits about her and steadily found her way through the foreign yet familiar procedures required to secure her footing, it lurked in the back of her mind that she had been taken here without her know-how – somehow, in some way, she got hunted.
Knowing that she could not effectively proceed unarmed, she dried up the funds provided by her captors as soon as she became aware of them, gathering up as many supplies as she could afford in order to begin construction on a new bow. She did not project it to have the same prowess as her previous crossbow, but as she stood over the lumber, metal, and tools laid scattered across the common area of her living space, eyes darting between the pieces, she knew she could find a way to make it work, and knowledge gave her control. Settling onto the ground, a black marker in hand, she began scribbling a mosaic of schematics over the floor–those messy black lines which made bare the blueprints for a machine capable of taking life.
The front door had been left open as she worked, and even though the craft of engineering carried her mind further than any other activity, she still remained an indelible hunter, a predator from the mountains, ever diligent of her surroundings. She knew that a small presence approached the threshold to the room, and her hands stilled slightly before she turned her head in acknowledgment of the one who observed her.
There stood a child, about the age that he was, maybe a little younger. Youth was no longer a reason to indicate innocence, though the boy seemed more curious than anything else. But, indeed, she knew better than to be eased by mere appearances.
“ See something interesting? ” She deadpans the question, fishing for intent. (Whose child is this, anyway?) / @alkemistry
There is something ironic about kidnapping royalty, only to then wake up and find oneself kidnapped... by royalty. Albeit, it’s different royalty altogether -- foreign, unfamiliar royalty that Varian has never even heard of -- but it still feels a bit like a deliberate jab.
He’s rushed through some quasi-meeting with the princess of this kingdom, but it’s strange; she’s not actually there. It’s like her image is being displayed on some sort of screen. How exactly that’s being done is a mystery; she doesn’t even appear to be in the same room. The intrigue of it all actually serves to partially distract him from the whole kidnapping situation, but though he tries to dart in to get a closer look at whatever mechanism it is that’s allowing them to show her likeness with such clarity, he’s shooed away and into the city with the rest of the audience who, judging by the lost expressions on their faces, are likely also unfortunate citizens from elsewhere who’ve been kidnapped by this city’s royals.
Varian feels thrown off, like he’s got whiplash from the suddenness of it all. There’s a noticeable gap in his memory when trying to connect what he last recalls to his apparent kidnapping. He’s still sour and reeling from the whole thing when he makes his way to whatever place was assigned to him. It’s in passing through the building’s hallway that he finds himself sidetracked by the neighboring room. It’s impossible not to notice -- there’s drawings inked across the floor, schematics he only gets a glimpse of before stopping so abruptly that it might be more accurate to say he skids to a halt in a way that’s almost comical. Whatever concerns he’d had about his whole situation are forgotten almost instantly in his fascination.
❝ Oh -- woah, ❞ he breathes, eyes going wide. For a moment, he hovers at the doorway, visibly intrigued. In fact, he’s so enthralled by the diagrams that he is only vaguely aware of the person responsible for them speaking.
❝ ---- Huh? ❞ Varian blinks, distracted. ❝ Oh, uhh. Wait, did y-... did you draw all these? ❞ he asks, inching forward slightly into the room to get a better look at the mass array of sketches across the floor. There’s even more of them visible with more of the room’s interior in view. He tiptoes around them as carefully as he can -- if this woman has just been drawing them, the ink probably hasn’t dried yet. Something like glee lights up his face as he takes them all in. ❝ This is amazing. You -- you’re designing weapons? ❞
