Humming to herself she strode down through the streets, admiring the architecture and the scents on the air that were fragrant and unfamiliar. It was one of her past times. Every time she visited a new town she would absorb as much as possible. She smiled to herself as she continued on past the throngs of people at the markets, and the laughter emitted from the occassional house she passed.

Stopping a moment her eyes found the distant beacon of light, the infamous Inn of Rhydin that she sought to relax her tired feet, eyes and limbs. The walk had drained much of her energy, and the katana usually light at her hip was encumbering her with each step now that some hours had passed since she left Nighting.

Heading towards it she felt a pang riddle her spine. As tired as she was she had to remain guarded, though for some reason, tonight, she could not be bothered playing badass. For once, she would enjoy a wine, dinner and perhaps some enthralling conversation to ease her mind before sleep. If no company, she knew the wine would hold strong for her then.

And she was off towards the Red Dragon Inn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From her perch in a booth by the window, her violet eyes looked about. The wine available was hardly appetising and the company was lacking-only two patrons were left by the time of her arrival after her walk from the market place she had come from, and she doubted much else would whet her taste-she wasn't even going to bother ordering a meal!

Lowering her cigarette, she flicked the ends and let the ash feather down. Her interest had only been perked by the man lying on the ground, obviously in agony with the constant stream of winces crossing his pained face.

Finally conjuring some energy to her limbs and bothering to move, she walked over to the small gathering, the curved katana at her hip barely seen as it reflected the dark colours of the booths she passed on her way over.

She hadn't noticed until now, the shadowy form of one called Hanzo, who watched the pained man and his female company. But her interest was in the wounded soul sprawled out on the floorboards.

"What appears to be wrong?", she enquired, kindly smiling to the female beside her. Charna.

It appeared that the man had fallen and injured his lower back. In this state, she had to admit, he was not one for conversations. After talking both parties through how to aid the man, she began kneading his back and nape of his neck, applying pressure to the necessary points to achieve the desired result. She noticed Charna's vacant, spellbound demeanor. She found the woman to be utterly peculiar!

Ministering to the man, he proved thankful for fast assistance. He seemed a nice soul, and she wondered what had gotten him in this situation' She smiled sullenly to the unusual woman, watching as she gathered together some ice for her friend, and then Opea stood, easing away from them so that the man could stand and she could take her leave. He thanked her and she quickly left. She didn't want to make a scene, not that there was anyone to see her, but felt an urge to help. After all, "if she ignores the wounded, she would unwound her own thread".

Disappearing outside, eyes downcast she headed back to the liveliness of the market. She would set up her base here and rest the night away. She was content to sleep now having done a good deed. It filled her with a refined glee, and she pondered this new feeling. Perhaps not all Bad creatures stay that way"

The nightingale moved into the eve, the pendulum swing of her hips slinking into black, the raven of her hair as sheeny as the sky above and as dark as the shadows that danced in every alleyway, every crevice, and doused the wall and ladder she was headed towards, to keep her eye on the city, and where she would find her sleep