Her lips moved, and the smallest of sounds escaped them.
“
Please..”
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, for both comfort and warmth. One small bony hand reached out and one scrawny finger pointed up at the brightly painted sign.
It was the last ingredient she needed. She only required a very small amount. If only..
Clearing her throat she once again opened her mouth.
“
Sir, if I could just..”
Yet the stout man behind the counter did not bother to look her way. He just could not take his eyes away from the mounds of papers that were seemingly swallowing him whole. Piles upon piles. Feverishly writing and mumbling softy under his breath.
Her lips pressed together and tears promptly began to fill up her weary eyes. She swiftly blinked them away. Weakness was frowned upon wasn’t it? Crying openly in the shops was also not acceptable. Oh the many lessons she had learned over the years.
Once again her lips began to move, only this time the sounds coming from her mouth were accompanied by closed eyes, and wouldn’t sound like any language the shopkeeper would have been familiar with.
“
Vas Flam”
Those two words were spoken just as softly as any other that had this day, with the only exception being it was not necessary for these to be heard for the impact to be felt.
A stack of papers sitting in the middle of the desk suddenly and surprisingly burst into flame. The alarmed shopkeepers mustache took a hit as well, smoldering and causing an awful smell which quickly filled the small room. He instantly shot an angry glare in her direction as he leapt backwards to avoid the brunt of the flame. Fear filled her eyes as she seemed to shrink under his furious gaze. In one sweeping gesture he brushed the stack of burning papers into a stone vase that sat by the desk on the floor.
Her lower lip began to uncontrollably quiver, and she instinctively began to make small, tactical steps away from the counter. Her heart began to beat so quickly and hard that it felt as if it would pound itself right out of her chest. Her tiny cold hands balled themselves into little frozen fists. Shaking her head, as if trying to shake the fear her eyes drifted down to the cold stone floor she stood upon and she stood firmly by the door.
“
Sir I just.. “
“
.. I just would like to ..”
“
I would just like to purchase some of your mandrake root”
She mumbled, and stumbled over the thoughts running through her head. Her gaze gradually drifted upwards, but did not meet his own. Instead she stared intently at a clock hanging on the wall just over his left shoulder.
She forced herself to smile. It was nervous and weak at best.
“
.. if that would be all right with you, that is. Sir.”
When she did find the courage to look at the reddened face of the shopkeeper, he was leaning over the counter in an effort to hear the words she had just uttered out loud. His face, scowling, gave a curt nod and he ducked behind the counter.
Quickly she took in a shallow breath. That could have gone better she surmised.
One pudgy hand popped out from behind the counter. A small jar was placed carefully down, barely making a sound as glass touched stone.
“
Thirty seven gold pieces for it.” the irritated man spit out.
“
Pay it or go away. In fact, even if yer pays it, or ye donts‘, leave an donts’ come back again lass!”
….
Appearance-Of the human race.
-Appears to be between the ages of 18 and 22.
-Standing just shy of 5 feet tall.
-Painfully thin. Overly so, and unhealthy at that.
-Warm dark chestnut brown hair.
-Pale skin, in the sickly sense. It is as if she is ill, or has been for some time now.
-Large brown eyes that are as rich as the colour of her hair. The depth and color of her hair and eyes compared to her pale flesh only extend the idea that she is unwell.
-Appears frail, and weak.
-Small delicate facial features. Attractive enough. However most tend to fail to see that right offhand. It isn’t a matter of “Oh, isn’t she cute!” or even “Well, she isn’t that bad to look at.. “, it tends to be more like “Oh, whatever could be wrong with her?”.
-Is proportionate considering her frame.
-Has a handful of scars upon her body, most of which you would never normally see.
*Lashing scars across her back. Some deeper and more profound than others. They range from fresh or new, to old.
* A vertical scar that goes from just behind her right shoulder, to her right clavicle.
*She often has bruises in varying places. She just tends to bruise easy given her apparent poor health.
Jewelry-
*Wears a polished silver metal bracelet that contains seven pieces of amber, each representing one the seven Caewood children.
*Wears a polished silver metal ring that is quite plain. The inside of the band however is inscribed. If you were to get a look at it you would see it reads, in fine delicate script “I will never love another - Eion”.
*There is no obvious significance to either piece of jewelry other than the bracelet perhaps if you realize she is one of seven children.
History-A native of Jhelom. Born and raised in Jhelom until the age of seven. Family was well to-do as far as financially speaking.
-Born to parents Dunn and Enid Caewood.
-Dunn and Enid Caewood were overall loving, yet absent parents. While Dunn was a successful weapons instructor, Enid was a highly successful tailor and artist. While Dunn worked night and day, Enid worked during the day and played so to speak at night. Extremely social, and somewhat selfish, Enid spent her free time worrying for herself, and her children second. There were hired child minders, tutors and cooks and whatnot to raise the children. They were fine were they not? There was also much talk of the supposed affairs Enid would partake in, fueling rumors that the all the Caewood children did not in fact share the same father.
-One of seven children. Second to youngest. Siblings include brothers Camlin (27), Lann (17), Kent (22) and Perth, and sisters Brina (26) and Maura (20).
-At seven she was sent to study the arcane arts in Moonglow.
-Between the ages of seven and thirteen she traveled between Moonglow and Magincia. Both cities offered education in the arcane arts.
-At thirteen something significant took place, and she was expelled from the Lycaeum and sent home to Jhelom. There is very little chance she will offer up the conditions and circumstance that surrounded the incident to anyone unless there is a deep bond of trust involved. At any rate much punishment followed, and there was much blame, anger and shame that was directed in her direction. Coming home after six years, Iseabel found much had changed in the Caewood household. Some things hadn’t changed a single bit, and instead it seemed that only the once good things had transformed over time.
-Six years have passed since being shipped home. Sad and unspeakable things have occurred between then and now. Iseabel is now 19 years old, and has left home for the last and final time. Or so she believes. A lifetime filled with torment and sorrow plagues this young girl. There have been so few times in her life that she can look back on, and smile about, and it shows. She has either ran away from home, or was driven from her home. One cannot be certain as it isn’t anything she willingly discusses.
-As sickly as she looks, there has to be something behind it. A lingering illness perhaps. She shows no obvious signs such as coughing, fevers or hives so one can either conclude it is some other type of sickness, or she is what one would call a runt. Barely thriving in life, yet still hanging on.
Personality -She speaks softly. As in barely audible at times. Her voice is soothing and melodic.
-She is first and foremost painfully shy, and timid. It shows in her every awkward movement. There is barely a lick of confidence in her soul. She is someone who has been beaten down and broken, similar to how a wild horse is broken. She feels unsafe in the world no matter where she is or who she is surrounded by. The world around her seems cold, and overly cruel. Poised to strike at any moment and cause her harm. She is highly untrusting. There is a wall between herself and the outside world at all times. While slow to trust, she is fiercely loyal when loyalty is earned and deserv
ed. She is extremely obedient. She follows orders without question as if she has been following orders her entire life. She comes across weak, frail and fragile, which she is.
-The glass, is half empty.
-She is quite intelligent, despite her overly apprehensive facade. She was taught quite a bit about the arcane arts, though lacks the confidence to use her knowledge to the best of her ability. She also has quite the knack for going unnoticed. Be it from years of fighting for, or avoiding any sort of attention while in a large family, or her small stature and presence, Iseabel is quite good at being overlooked. Perhaps it is the same way one makes a point to overlook the unfortunate, as if meeting their gaze would somehow cause their misfortune to rub off on them as well.
-Has a high tolerance for pain, and will more than likely suffer in silence than call attention to herself. There is also little chance she would openly complain about any injustice done to her.
-She is determined to make it on her own, or die trying. The is quite determined to do her very best, even if it falls short most of the time. There is safety in numbers so they say, and thus joining the Covian Army under the Baronship of Cove is the most enticing choice for her. She does not know what to expect, but is prepared for the worst.
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