"Sanctuary of, uh-" Embarrassingly, two decades of service as noviate and acolyte had not given Imogen instant recall of the names of each of the Sunsinger Sanctuaries, but that pause gave her a moment to realize that perhaps the name wasn't going to mean all that much "-the training-house of my company. You know, bring in young ones, get them familiar with weapons and war. They liked to let the kids pick out what they liked best, and then--mostly--learn first-hand why you should just stick with a saber."
She'd never gone through precisely the same process, but only because her uncle had taken it upon himself to teach her the greatblade at a young age. She suspected he'd simply feared that, given her mother's bad influence, he wasn't going to get the chance to teach his stupid self-sacrificing style to any of his other nieces or nephews. Imogen wondered idly if having gone through training at the Sanctuary rather than in the safehouses would have taken some of the sting out of the initiation Master Gerhard had chosen. She suspected it wouldn't have.
Moon's offer broke the witch from her reverie.
"Yes, I guess it's not letting up, is it?" The Sunsinger stretched, her joints popping alarmingly as the still-unfamiliar human form obliged. "Don't imagine there will be too many shadow beasts this close to the city."
Imogen started moving, walking gingerly back onto the main thoroughfare towards the city proper. Her staff was still glowing, though not shining as intensely as it had when she'd opened the Window a moment past, and the unsteady puddle of light around them was caged by the falling water, giving the shadows below the trees an almost liquid appearance.
"Bit odd, really. Wasn't two weeks ago that I was in, um, Gel'Grandal. Place was practically overrun with the things at night. The gangs were fighting them in the streets with mortars, I kid you not. There were shadow creatures the size of buildings when what's-his-name showed up, uh, Aoren. And the other one. And of course, there was a dragon in Zaichaer, rampaged across the countryside. Makes you wonder why they're so aggressive in some places and not others, right? Still, I'm no elementalist, shouldn't speculate."
The witch swept her staff and its attendant light in front of herself, peering suspiciously into the shadows. At this angle, it was quite apparent that her eyes were not, in fact, human, but thin cat-like pupils over a light violet which never bled into white. For herself, Imogen appreciated the benefits of a little night vision. She cut a frightening figure, a small woman, soaking wet, hair dripping on every side, eyes glowing with reflected light. Mouth always open, just... saying stuff.
"I suppose I ought to be asking you what the news here in Kalzasi is, I haven't been in town for months. Wasn't there a, uh, succession, sort of thing? I never quite understood that, I thought you were meant to wait until the prince was dead to pick another. Back home, you know, the government just got replaced by military coup every now and again."
