She’d risen before the sun, dressing quickly in a light gown that barely reached her ankles. Her family would have paled to see her in it. Truthfully, it was far from the worst thing she’d done living in their gilded cage. The memory of her family brought a soft sting to her chest. Ivan Crane was a strict and often cruel man, but he’d still been a father in some ways she guessed. Her mother, Pella, had been a ghost before she’d even passed on into the next world. It was hard to miss her when she’d never really gotten to know her. No, the ones she missed the most were her brother Hector and the nursemaid who’d raised her, Delilah. A name far too sweet and charming for the cunning and dark woman she had been. She could remember the woman's eyes, a deep violet, her gnarled and twisted fingers beautiful and graceful as she’d guided her through her herbs and potions. Her gaze landed on the small bookshelf where her well worn grimoire sat. Smiling lightly, she turned from the memories, pulling on a mostly empty pack and headed out into the small courtyard.

The home was not like the one she’d grown up in, but compared to what she’d seen in the lesser parts of this horrific city it was glamorous. She’d mostly chosen it for this small courtyard, a patch of green in a city so filled with people it often felt suffocating. Its high walls were also enough to protect the grand creature resting in the morning shade. A great white stag lay amongst the flowers, his proud amber eyes meeting her own. He gave a soft mule of greeting before making his way over to her.  "Ready to go River?," She placed the saddlebags on him, leading him from the prying eyes of the city.

They’d be making a familiar trip once more, to the wilds far from the reaches of most civilization. She’d stay for several days, picking and preparing her herbs to bring back to the sickly, the injured soldiers, and any others who came to her door seeking help. Truly, she’d have loved to stay within those woods, with only the stag and the wind for company. A prying guilt gnawed at her heart though. She’d been given a gift in the deal she’d made with Mithras. The thought of him brought his emotions into her own, along with a wave of nausea at how similar the darker parts of them could be. Autumn paused at a river’s edge, looking down into her own reflection while the stag took his time to drink. 



"Speaking"