The afternoon sun reflected off of the stretch of black leather along her thigh; a vivid white stripe leading down to the first buckle of her boots, just below the knee. The long-legged Scathachian was sitting atop a warehouse building in the middle of the dockside district, looking over the busy waterfront. The sounds of the ships being loaded and unloaded, bawdy squawking of the sailors and dockside workers down below mixed to produce an oddly harmonious balance with the soothing rhythms of the sea undulating against the docks and the mournful cries of the bloated seagulls, full from too many dives in the local rubbish bins. It was the sort of afternoon that Isuelt felt there were too few of in the world. The sort of day where, if only for a little while, there was balance to the city and it felt as if the very gods above were smiling down on them.
Perched on the precipice of the warehouse's roof, one leg over the edge and lightly swinging, Isuelt dug out an apple from the pouch at the back of her belt and bit into the sweet, crisp fruit with a decidedly loud crunch. As she chewed on her snack, she inhaled deeply through her nose, letting the salted air become the perfect accompaniment to the apple's flavor. Isuelt's bent knee came up and she rested her chin on the smooth leather as she let her arms drape around her leg. The Scathachian stayed secure on her roost for some time, keeping watch on the people down below. The brilliant sun moved slowly across the sky until it was mostly behind her, shining through her deep brown hair to create a haloed illusion of light. Of course, she didn't see or know this, but something about her altruistic pose in silence only added to the angelic image.
For the better part of the last thirty minutes, a large clipper ship had been newly docked and have its cargo uncrated. As Isuelt's shoulders lifted in a sighed inhale, she turned her face to watch the progress. Crates mostly, of all sizes and a few cages which must have contained animals of some sort, though they were covered and offered little display for her prying eyes. Another set of prying eyes were fixed not upon the unloaded cargo, however, but upon Isuelt herself. Garbed in an oiled dark leather longcoat, deep blue trousers and black boots, the captain of the ship was secured in a long leering lean upon the railing of the bow, staring up at the lone Scathachian on the rooftop. There was no telling how long the raven-haired sailor had been studying her from his spot near the bowsprit. Isuelt only noticed him after the majority of the cargo had been left upon the docks to be inventoried by the tariff master. As her gaze took another turn over the pier, she blinked as she caught sight of the ogling sailor. Their eyes locked, her espresso ones and his blazing green, and it was as if he wasn't on the bow of a ship so far down below, nor her up upon the warehouse roof. There was something familiar about the seafarer that Isuelt couldn't quite put her finger on. The Judge's brows lowered as she searched her brain for a recollection or a memory that would place him. Yet, even as she did so, she didn't break her gaze. Neither did he. And it was when the captain reached up with two fingers and tipped his tricorne hat, displaying a lewd glimmer in his eye that denoted he was quite familiar with this Scathachian, that Isuelt felt a shiver come over her leather-clad shoulders. He had obviously placed her first, or had he" Perhaps his lascivious expression was a side-effect of his occupation. Though Isuelt could have sworn that she saw his shoulders shake with a laugh as he pushed off of his lean and moved along the ship to disappear somewhere below deck.
Still perplexed, Isuelt drew up her legs and stood up on the roof, walking along the roofline, dragging her eyes over the mast, bow and hull until she could make out the name of the ship: "Jester's Pride." It was not the epiphany she was seeking. However, in smaller letters, following the name of the ship, was the name of the home port and that was what stifled her steps and caught her breath: Metro City. Isuelt's eyes widened and she sought in vain for another glance at the captain. But he had either stayed in the cabin down below or perhaps he had disembarked. There was one way to find out, wasn't there" Isuelt's lean body made short work of the system of pipes and ladders that led down to the street level. In a flash, she was hurrying toward the Jester's Pride with a few questions on the tip of her tongue.
Perched on the precipice of the warehouse's roof, one leg over the edge and lightly swinging, Isuelt dug out an apple from the pouch at the back of her belt and bit into the sweet, crisp fruit with a decidedly loud crunch. As she chewed on her snack, she inhaled deeply through her nose, letting the salted air become the perfect accompaniment to the apple's flavor. Isuelt's bent knee came up and she rested her chin on the smooth leather as she let her arms drape around her leg. The Scathachian stayed secure on her roost for some time, keeping watch on the people down below. The brilliant sun moved slowly across the sky until it was mostly behind her, shining through her deep brown hair to create a haloed illusion of light. Of course, she didn't see or know this, but something about her altruistic pose in silence only added to the angelic image.
For the better part of the last thirty minutes, a large clipper ship had been newly docked and have its cargo uncrated. As Isuelt's shoulders lifted in a sighed inhale, she turned her face to watch the progress. Crates mostly, of all sizes and a few cages which must have contained animals of some sort, though they were covered and offered little display for her prying eyes. Another set of prying eyes were fixed not upon the unloaded cargo, however, but upon Isuelt herself. Garbed in an oiled dark leather longcoat, deep blue trousers and black boots, the captain of the ship was secured in a long leering lean upon the railing of the bow, staring up at the lone Scathachian on the rooftop. There was no telling how long the raven-haired sailor had been studying her from his spot near the bowsprit. Isuelt only noticed him after the majority of the cargo had been left upon the docks to be inventoried by the tariff master. As her gaze took another turn over the pier, she blinked as she caught sight of the ogling sailor. Their eyes locked, her espresso ones and his blazing green, and it was as if he wasn't on the bow of a ship so far down below, nor her up upon the warehouse roof. There was something familiar about the seafarer that Isuelt couldn't quite put her finger on. The Judge's brows lowered as she searched her brain for a recollection or a memory that would place him. Yet, even as she did so, she didn't break her gaze. Neither did he. And it was when the captain reached up with two fingers and tipped his tricorne hat, displaying a lewd glimmer in his eye that denoted he was quite familiar with this Scathachian, that Isuelt felt a shiver come over her leather-clad shoulders. He had obviously placed her first, or had he" Perhaps his lascivious expression was a side-effect of his occupation. Though Isuelt could have sworn that she saw his shoulders shake with a laugh as he pushed off of his lean and moved along the ship to disappear somewhere below deck.
Still perplexed, Isuelt drew up her legs and stood up on the roof, walking along the roofline, dragging her eyes over the mast, bow and hull until she could make out the name of the ship: "Jester's Pride." It was not the epiphany she was seeking. However, in smaller letters, following the name of the ship, was the name of the home port and that was what stifled her steps and caught her breath: Metro City. Isuelt's eyes widened and she sought in vain for another glance at the captain. But he had either stayed in the cabin down below or perhaps he had disembarked. There was one way to find out, wasn't there" Isuelt's lean body made short work of the system of pipes and ladders that led down to the street level. In a flash, she was hurrying toward the Jester's Pride with a few questions on the tip of her tongue.