The Grey Area || Daemon & Rhosyn
The smell of the capitol city was a much more bustling city, more room for anonymity. With every passing of a guard, Rhosyn felt her nerves scatter into a frizzy mess throughout her body. It was ridiculous of her, to parade about in different disguises as she roamed the city, dropping off weapons to rebels. Today, she met in a brothel. It was not her favorite place to meet, but it made the most sense for a single woman roaming the streets and alleyways. The job of prostituting was an option, but she would not dare desecrate her husband’s memory by lying with other men. She wore her best gown of deep red velvet and her hair flowed down her back, looking as feminine as possible. Regretfully, nobody around could suspect a frail woman to be a master blacksmith, let alone to be harboring weapons. Rho felt so uncomfortable in nicer garb, as if she was acting, or rather faking, who she was. Pacing through the streets, she slipped into a tavern that was far more crowded than usual, the men were grunting and the bar maids were yelping as if they were lapdogs. She turned quickly to avoid making any contact before bumping into a man behind her, a dagger dropping from her waist to the ground on impact. Without lifting her head, the terrified elf sheathed her blade before the man noticed. “I sincerely apologize, sir.”