Lexi Vithex ~ In the shadow.

[levedara]

Portrait Download

At a Glance:
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 130lbs.
Build: Slender and lithe.

Hair: Raven black.
Eyes: Ice blue.
Skin: Soft pale.

Details of Appearance:
The casual observer notes little of the woman, for she keeps to herself most of the time, hood drawn low over her features, garb fairly concealing. Her fingerless gloves reveal her long slender digits that often rest on her belt, near the haft of her two pairs of twin weapons, maces and short swords. Her figure is mostly petite, a modest bust over narrow hips, with thin limbs that make her her seem a bit willowy when in motion.

The more curious onlooker, should they be afforded the chance to study the woman might note her eyes watchfully glancing about in the shadow of her hood, keen on keeping track of her surroundings, as well as the subtle quite shifts she makes on the balls of her feet to keep herself ready to spring into motion. Noting that they may also note the small dagger hilt sticking out the top of her boot.

When her hood makes it down her face is revealed to have thin arching eyebrows over piercing faintly slanted eyes complimented by a straight nose over naturally pouting lips. Her cheekbones are soft and face narrow affording her a somewhat fragile look. Her face is usually framed by loose black bangs that have fallen free from her pony tail. Her expression generally favors a passive set, though her ice blue eyes have an intent gaze that may betray her interest.

Those familiar with the people from Mulhorand might trace her features that way, though this is fairly diluted.

[levedara]

Of the First Day.

A boat has carried me here.

Her nostrils twitch at the fresh scent of the river. She longs for the stench of sour ale and the waste of sick patrons in dark corners. Home was now so far away. A grimace crosses her face as she forces her mind to move past her reasons for leaving.

"I hate boats," she mutters as she strides along the dirt path into the small village. Intent eyes cast about in the shadow of a deep cowl. Her stomach growls, providing a painful reminder to the reason why her journey has stopped here. With hardly enough coins to do so she visits the shop and purchases a meager meal. It was time to make coin again, so she could keep moving. She sits at the table before the general store to eat.

Her delicate fingers fidget on her belt. Moving was just another word for running. How far did she have to go to get away from the ghost of her past? Her hand traces up her side, following a mark no one knows is there. She's kept it to herself since the day she earned it. Her own little shame. Another brief grimace, and abruptly her strides carry her away from the table, leaving her thoughts behind.

The dark garbed woman pauses to ask the guard a few questions, directions to the mill, and if there's anything to be done around town. She skirts his offer for work and heads out the gate, reviewing the paper the shop keep had given her when she'd spoken to him about employment. He'd set her on a mundane task, but dinner was dinner after all, and being sure it was paid for without risking life or limb was always a bonus.

Honest living. Her perpetual pout lifts into a smirk as she struggles to haul the heavy sack of flour back to town. Who am I kidding? The weight of her hidden boot dagger teases her and her cold eyes narrow as she passes through the gate.

"People like you and me, girl, we ain't made fer honest living."

His words haunted her, even as she accepted her pay for services rendered.

[levedara]

On earning Sympathy

The day hadn't gotten far. It had galled her to stoop to doing a guards work but it seemed more plausible than the witches nonsense. Her slender fingers played over the key the watchman had given her as she considered the notion of undead rats. She then considered they key. Should she even bother to use it?

Her fingers ache with the memory. Hours of torment, every mistake rewarded with a sharp rap across already swollen knuckles. Tumbler turns back, each careful nudge of the pins within bringing her closer to success. Yet every time her delicate tools scraped the edge of the casing her progress was set back by yet another smack.

It would be a day of meeting men. The first a confrontation. He'd look her over in the general store. She'd offer a short glance back before hurrying on her way. As she placed her back to the building across the street waiting for him to follow, she fought the fear of what was surely inevitable. Was he the one sent to take her home? He did follow, but he bandied simple words and parted. Just a curious stranger.

"Looks like that wont gain you sympathy," he'd told her.

"Ain't much lookin' ter get me any sympathy sirreh," she offered back.

Her nerves were to tense to enjoy the exchange though a twinge of longing fluttered through her as she watched his feet carrying him away. She wasn't troubled by solitude, she was troubled by the lack of play. She'd been running long and hard. Could she afford to slow down?

Another man put himself on display. He fancied himself a soldier and it came down to an honest days wage. Was spilling the blood of goblins honest work? She set out with him, they went far. He wasn't a bad companion. He asked many questions and received few answers, he fought hard against their quarry, and generally he was likable. She refused to recall his name. She instead called him Nemsem, mimicking his oft mentioned homeland. When they collected their bounties her purse was heavy from all they'd found. She could leave now, keep moving. She knew she should.

Her fists clench as she leans against the tree in the shadows. She would stay, dangerous as it was. I deserve this. Some fun and riches. I deserve to remain. She set to work with her cloth dyes. Time to be me again.

Days later her fingers played over a fine silver necklace hanging from her neck. An adornment she'd typically scorn, the magic imbued in the chain would help keep her safe. She'd spent all day doing honest work for honest pay. Toiling through danger for a small bounty. At the end of it all she walked away with ten times more for a few quick lies and a game of dress up. A merchant had lost caravan full of precious jewelery. The valuables in the chests were worth ten times the measly sum offered as a reward for their safe return. So she'd made the suggestion to her companion, a mage she termed Grey with his odd red winged companion, and they'd done it. They'd been the only ones to respond to the advert requesting aid. A fifty fifty split wasn't anything to complain about.

She smirks as she reclines in the hay. It was so easy to slip things from their grasp. It felt natural. They lost it, so what right did they have to claim it? It was hers now. Rolling over she curls up almost cat like to slumber. She dreams of treasures piled high. Treasures and fire.

[levedara]

Memories

A child's greedy fingers grasped at expensive jewelery, slipping on priceless rings and necklaces. Absently she tossed aside the ones she didn't fancy, leaving a mess of chains and pendants scattered across the dresser, having no care to put them away neatly in the fine crafted box from whence they came. Posing and preening in her fine dress the young lady was clearly of some import, at least, in her own mind. She favored a ruby set in a choker of silver.

"Lexi! What are you doing? That's my finest collection, not toys for your fancy!"

The demanding, cross voice came from her mother. Raven haired and in a dress of pearly silk the woman's bearing in the doorway was authoritative. The wife of a well to do merchant in the city of splendors, Lexi's mother was not a woman used to being crossed. Unfortunately Lexi cared little for her mothers expectations when they came between her and fun. Her mother stormed across the room and snatched up the key from next to the jewelery box.

"You're a wretched little thief, is that what you want to be Lexi? A good for nothing thief? You should be ashamed of yourself!"

The petite girl merely gave a mocking curtsy and posed. Her icy blue eyes affixed on her mothers own hazel gaze caused the older woman to look away.

"But don't I look divine mother?"

Late that night in the bedchamber of merchant and wife, tears fell and hushed words were shared. A loving husbands brown eyes were sad as he comforted the grieving woman. Her heartache was that of a victim, unable to escape the evidence of suffering that would always follow, even ten years after the crime.

Fire and smoke. Eyes watered and throats gasped for air as the households members struggled to flee the household before they fell with it. In a soft nightgown Lexi stood behind her manor, having crawled out a window and down the latticework that supported the decorative vines that adorned the two story home. She watched flames leap and dance from across the cobbled street, in the shadow of the broad steps that lead into a neighbors estate. People scurried to and fro, calling for water and aid. Fires in the city were a frantic thing, so dangerous, with the ability to spread rapidly through districts. The chaos of the scene oddly made her smile despite the fright she suffered.

Other eyes watched too, a sinister man observed the girl, his icy gaze intent, thin smile lifting his sharp features briefly as he silently moved to firmly grasp her shoulder.

"Yer not meant fer living like this lass, I'll be taking ye home with me."

His first greeting frightened her, but his hand covered her mouth before she could scream.