Evangeline busies herself in the early morning, readying her light armor, and weapons. Her mail shirt had been worn so commonly, that of late, it almost felt like a second skin. Walking through Ul'dah, and saying what she commonly said was not a recipe for safety. More than once she had been thankful for its protection.
Her sword and shield lie against the wall, shining in the morning sun. Gaudy, garish things they were, built as much for ceremony as for battle. She had thought of abandoning them, and buying more practical weapons. However in the end she kept them out of stubbornness. They were fine weapons, given as a gift by a relative in the Temple Knights. There was a certain poetic justice, she thought, in such symbols of the Holy See being wielded by her.
She shoulders them, and after adjusting her glasses, steps off into the morning mists. Weaving her towards the gate, she is greeted by the sounds and stenches of the refugee camps. Though at this early hour, most remain in their makeshift shelters. She scans around the camp, searching for her unlikely master.
Her sword and shield lie against the wall, shining in the morning sun. Gaudy, garish things they were, built as much for ceremony as for battle. She had thought of abandoning them, and buying more practical weapons. However in the end she kept them out of stubbornness. They were fine weapons, given as a gift by a relative in the Temple Knights. There was a certain poetic justice, she thought, in such symbols of the Holy See being wielded by her.
She shoulders them, and after adjusting her glasses, steps off into the morning mists. Weaving her towards the gate, she is greeted by the sounds and stenches of the refugee camps. Though at this early hour, most remain in their makeshift shelters. She scans around the camp, searching for her unlikely master.
