The scenery seemed almost monotone compared to the always busy and colourful ports of Bilgewater. The rolling whites and blues were starting to hurt her eyes, piercing in their pristine purity and to Sarah, who was used to browns and yellows and deep shades of blues, it was blinding. The cold of course was the final nail in the coffin, unused to feeling the chill run deep into her bones and the heavy furs on her shoulders slowing her down, she moved about the small fishing village with quick, bouncy steps to generate as much heat as she could.
Even seeing her breath roll before her lips sent unease through the captain.
She honestly couldn’t understand why anyone would willingly live in a place like this, or how anyone really could. Did they not freeze to death? The sun itself seemed to shy away from the peaks of Freljord so why didn’t the people? Questions swarmed her head in bulk, pushing aside the resentful thoughts of the village itself from time to time and as Sarah reached the market place, she wondered if she had the heart to even buy any fish from the sellers, if they even had anything else to eat? It certainly didn’t seem like anything else could survive. But as pitiful as it all seemed to her, Demacia was still a long way to go and she had to feed her men something of substance, lest they all throw her to the sharks. With a sigh, she stopped at one of the stands, leaning over with her hands stuffed deeply in her pockets, restlessly shuffling from one foot to another as she examined the fish.
( @frostcalled liked for a starter )