As Izavelle funnelled through the front gates of the enormous walled city, ne'er a hair's breadth from the shoulder of a stranger, she lifted her eyes towards the sky and imagined that the constant, trickling processions must look like the industry of ants to a heavenly observer. Beneath the open light of day, the great city was either ruddy or cobble-grey. Tall, majestic structures could not quite erase the musty, earthen scents of human and animal at ground level. A medley of some uncountable number of voices was the square's ambience. Finally, as people went their separate ways toward the many streets and structures on offer, Izavelle had room to pause. With a plaintive look, she scanned the canopy of towers for any obvious goals, but none revealed themselves to her. This game was particularly remarkable for its lack of obvious direction. A little information had been provided to her about the world she now inhabited, but nothing in the way of a strategy was immediately obvious. Briefly, the woman attempted to covertly consult her map, but there was simply too great a level of minutiae for her uninitiated mind to properly absorb. There was only one thing for it. Rather than towards the monoliths or her own extremity, Izavelle began to scan the crowd as it flowed about her. Many of those who passed had their brows laden gruffly with a pointed objective, which it could be assumed they would not appreciate being deviated from, so it was the wandering eye that Izavelle sought; a stranger who, like herself, was searching, rather than seeking. She found one such person, whose eyes strayed towards her own for just a moment, a link that lingered far longer in the mind than the simple and fleeting moment it truly occupied. "Excuse me, miss," she hailed the redheaded stranger, smiling moderately and taking one stride towards her path, pulling both her hands out from the sleeves of her ivory robe and displaying her palms. Something about Izavelle's breathy voice was both gentle and penetrating. "I wonder if you might have a spare moment to aid a perfect stranger." @Comet
Stokbon remained a comforting place for Comet despite everywhere else she had been. When hunting and training and exerting energy on becoming a better player turned into a mindless game of no entertainment she turned to traveling. Walking, stretching long and energetic legs, touching various lands with boots that scuffed the ground; nothing could be quite a distracting or enjoyable as scouting the lands of such a detailed and large landscape given at the price of leaving - and possibly even forgetting - the real world. Even if just for a moment's time she could escape the pressures that restricted her heart from opening up. Though it could never fully heal there were slowly and surefire signs that the young woman had been healing this cold, restricted organ bursting at the seems - full of enough emotion to spread around the world. Every part of the city had been seen or walked on or visited. Now, Comet scanned the bustling crowds for a challenge; something or someone to peak her interests for Stokbon seemed to always hold this one thing. Dull, hopeful blue eyes caught sight of a slightly smaller, more innocent looking woman with gorgeous attire that stood out from most. Perhaps that's what brought a smile to the pink-haired woman's lips as she brushed stray bangs from her face. With how long the two held eye contact it seemed almost inevitable for them to bring this distant encounter to a closer one. A sense of yearning to meet and speak to this stranger spread throughout Comet in warm vibrations. Warmth only felt on the inside, unfortunately, for she remained a human iceberg with ghastly skin. "Miss?" she tilted her head, having met with the other halfway, eyelashes batting to match her given harmless nature. "You can call me Comet. And as for helping," a hand reached out to shake the woman's: a practiced and perfected gesture of utmost respect. "I wouldn't mind at all if it's something I can help with. You seemed a little lost, actually, I could see it in your eyes - which are beautiful by the way." @Izavelle Rocherre
The stranger approached agreeably, wearing a charming and artless smile, which was somewhat akin to Izavelle's own. It became evident in close proximity that 'Comet' - as she proclaimed herself to be called - was significantly taller than Izavelle; significantly taller, in fact, than most women were. The tall woman offered her hand, which the brunette took, lightly touching her free hand to the back of Comet's in order to further emphasize her gratitude. "Izavelle Rocherre," she replied in kind, giving her name. "I wouldn't mind at all if it's something I can help with," the redhead proclaimed. "You seemed a little lost, actually, I could see it in your eyes - which are beautiful by the way." Ordinarily a woman of admirable composure as she was, Izavelle was plainly a little caught off-guard by the somewhat amorous opening remark, which was made before hands had even fully fallen. Her brows lifted as her mouth opened, though she quickly stifled this look of stupefaction, quashing it into a much more politic gracious-smile, though Izavelle proved herself to be of a less-than-bashful disposition by the way that her cheeks remained decidedly devoid of any color. The depth of Comet's intention was not immediately evident to the new player, but she decided to play her game regardless. "Not in the presence of those fiery red locks they aren't," she deflected modestly, briefly tracing the aforementioned tresses with her gaze. It was true that they were gorgeous, though Izavelle couldn't help but be struck by the thought that the two of them were presently complimenting appearances that were entirely crafted, which was perhaps even less substantive than if they had been inherent. Truthfully, however, Izavelle hadn't expected to experience any compliments in regards to her appearance, which had been intentionally modelled to be unassuming - rather like Sofia saw herself. "It's true, I've no idea where to begin. This is my first time here in Stokbon - and there's simply so much, that I figure it might be worth being shown around by a person who knows their way around town. "Would you happen to be such a person, Comet?" Izavelle gently inquired, her small smile twitching. The redhead certainly had that aura about her.
Sky blue eyes, more often dull than not, filled with a slight surprise and a tight face softened as a sudden wave of comfort passed over her. "I like the name. It's different, but in the good way," she commented with a giggle of sorts at the thought of such ridiculous names she'd encountered in-game so far. Too overboard or cliche or abnormal enough to stick out like a sore thumb. Izavelle's words seemed akin to her own: they weren't out of pure kindness or admiration for the other. They were said to be said and held little to no substance other than to break ice between the two. If there was any at all for Izavelle wasn't the awkward and hesitant player Comet had assumed the stranger might be solely based on appearance. Still, the young woman flipped her hair as if expecting the compliment and nodded graciously as if it truly meant something to her. After living a life outside the game as an object, praise hardly affected her let alone mattered unless the person held the ability to strike her heart in a certain way. A special way that no one had achieved yet and, she assumed, never really would. Acting consumed Comet so much so that she believed that escaping its grasps wouldn't ever fail to be an impossible task. "Me?" a friendly grin turned into a cocky smirk. "I'm exactly the right person, Izavelle. I'm glad you picked me to trust. There are points of interest everywhere; businesses, live entertainment, rest areas, the construction outside of the city, the slums, and homes which are my personal favorite. The city is beautiful, and I've been around it about a million times, but I prefer Dunnstads or the wilderness of Astorea." an arm gestured towards the rest of the bustling areas around them as Comet's mind scanned the city for the best places to show the newcomer that'd help in the long run. Abandoning Izavelle as a possibility for the day threw itself away. The pink-haired woman hardly minded showing off knowledge as if a professional despite her eyes only taking in the outsides of the plentiful scenery that makes up Stokbon. OOC: late reply. my bad, things came up!
