Trustworthy

Nodding off to the sweet lullaby that nature provided, it was the gallop of a stallion that brought her back to life. Just as quickly as she was disturbed by the beast, it was gone. Celestia’s eyes settled on the path that was no longer occupied that lead to Dalen. Rocking slightly and humming the tune previously mentioned, thoughts as to where she should go returned. Verden offered the kind of soul that the Devil would surely delight in, but so did Dalen. Some of the best lives she had taken were from Dalen. A place filled with temptation could bring a well-seasoned saint right along her path.

Abruptly Celestia stood and snatched her bag. Throwing the strap over her head, she let the bag settle at her side- its contents making the occasional clacking noise.

It wasn’t too long before she could see small cottages, homes and vacant businesses alike, but only at a distance. Softening her features to be perceived more likeable, a soft smile planted itself on her face. Thinking of roses allowed her blood to rush to her cheeks, providing a soft pink that could be associated with joy. The closer she got, the more she was being noticed. For the most part, the souls that she laid her eyes on weren’t good enough for Him. It seemed they all had a bent compass- one that allowed them to do terrible things time to time and not feel guilty.

There were all kinds of people in Dalen, and all of them had a story of some kind. There was a higher rate of homelessness in this city; as magic could be used against one another out of spite under certain circumstances. Plainly walking along the path that would bring her closer to the city limits, she noticed a beggar along her path that occasionally looked up to onlookers and held out his hands. A bag full of his prized possessions was obviously placed at his side, some of them being able to be seen. Looking past him, it wasn’t long before a glint from his direction caught her eye. A quick double take revealed a possession that looked worth more value than anything else the man might own. Narrowing her eyes and twitching her nose, she concluded that there was someone new in town. Someone wealthy. Or someone stupid enough to be throwing money, good money, around like it was nothing.

Could we call it charity? Possibly. It peaked her interest enough to approach the poor man. A delightful sway to her walk accentuated her hour glass figure, naturally drawing attention to those who glanced. Moving at a speed that would allow for the man to prepare, but not so quick that it seemed aggressive. “Can I get you some food? Ale?” Her voice sounded- no felt- like a warm blanket that hung over your shoulders when the weather got cold. Silvery, in a similar way that a platinum coin would please you. It sounded like the songs a mother would sing to a distressed child. It sounded trustworthy.