Aurora strode through the streets, making her way to the papermaker in the Ossan Quarter. She patted her pockets, feeling the shape of her mask and dagger. She smiled, the sunlight was brilliant, catching the glint of the multiple jewels she wore today. She was in a strange lull today; strangely calm seeing as she was leaving her family for a fortnight to travel to Lions Arch tomorrow. Her bags were already packed, and she just had some last minute things to take care of.
She arrived at the papermaker, greeting the man she had known for so long. Ever stationary, journal, and book she needed throughout her short life had come from him. He didn't even question when she ordered stationary that didn't have the family crest imprinted on it.
The old man greeted her, and pulled out her order. There was a stack of stationary without the family crest, and one with. There was also the journal she had specially ordered. It contained about a hundred pages of thick cream paper, the pages ends dipped in silver. It was bound in white leather, and there was a rune of destruction painted on the cover in silver. If need be, it would facilitate in destroying it. The spine had a silver bracket punched in the leather, and there was a medium sized dark aquamarine set into it.
She thanked the man, and handed over a small satchel of coins. He counted them out, and pocketed them, smiling at her.
"Thank you Miss Penheart, I appreciate the business."
"No, thank you for being able to get this journal done so quickly on such short notice."
"The least I can do for such a loyal customer."
"Well, thank you anyway, I'll be on my way now Mr. Hayes."
She slid the small journal into a pocket hidden in her dress, and held the stationary under her arm. She stopped at her home quickly to deposit the stationary into her packed trunk, making sure the crestless paper was well hidden under her gowns and outfits. She kept the journal in her pocket however, letting it share space with both the mask and dagger.
She slipped back out of her house, this time heading for the completely respectable bar in the Ossan quarter for some late lunch, as it was around 4:00pm. She also had a glass of wine, and sipped on it slowly while catching up on the latest noble gossip. She stayed for about an hour, and headed to her alleyway, the one the often used to mask herself.
In the alleyway, the tied her mask on, as she knew it would be unwise for a noble to show her face at the bar she was intending to go to. Once the mask was securely knotted, she kept to the shadowy parts of the city as she made her way to the Flaggon. Once there, she sat herself in the corner of the bar, not bothering to actually order anything. No, tonight would be one to listen.
She stayed there for the night catching any bit of conversation she could before she left the city for a while. She sat there until the latest hours of the night, and left when the clock above the bar read midnight. She felt she had heard enough to keep her mind occupied for a while, and that's where her mind was on the walk home. After a long look around her, she removed her mask, placing it back in her pocket.
It wasn't until she crossed into the city gardens did she realize she had a shadow. It was a prickling on the back of her neck, and a shiver down her spine that alerted her. Unfortunately most of the Seraph was off guard, and only a few remained in the center of the city. A well trained assassin could take her out without drawing any guards' attention however, and another shiver past through her at that thought. She glanced around quickly, and quietly climbed up one of the topiaries, flattening herself against the cold stone and greenery. She forced her breathing to calm, but her nerves were on end.
She stayed there for what must have been an hour before she felt she had lost whoever had followed her, and made her way down. She slipped on some stone however, and plummeted to the ground below. She swore viciously, then bent to inspect the damage. Her knees were both bleeding, and there was gravel imbedded in the skin. Her palms were scraped up, and her right palm had a gash ripped though it where a branch must have caught. Her gown was it shreds, but she could really care less about that.
She huffed, and gathered up what remained of her skirts, her chin stuck out to the stars. She marched home, ignoring the stares from the few people still wandering the streets at the ungodly hour. She knew she looked like hell, and her mask was off. There would definitely be some questions in the morning by those helping her travel. Quickly she made her way back home and snapped at the housemaid to draw a bath for her. The maid clambered to her bathroom, while Aurora undressed in her room.
She sank into the bath water, and used the bar or lavender soap to scrub the dirt and gravel from her skin. The bleeding had stopped in all areas but her hand, and she now removed the ragged cloth she had put on temporarily. The cut wasn't nearly as bad as it had seemed earlier, but she still rinsed it with the antiseptic fluid the maid had placed near the bath, presumably after seeing the dried blood on her skin. She took a fresh cloth and wound it tightly around her palm, knotting the two ends together.
After she had dried off and dressed in her nightclothes, she pulled the journal from the pockets of what remained of her gown that had sprawled on the floor. Sitting at her desk, she took up a quill and dipped it into a bottle of ink. Careful not to drip any ink on the white leather, she carefully opened the journal to the first cream page, and began to write.