- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Fantasy, Modern Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Space Fantasy, Magical
[fieldbox=Voyager of the Skies, Brown, solid]
The overseer didn't buy her story, not surprising really. Heck, Agatha would've done the same if she was in his shoes. A stranger claiming to be the heiress, demanding funds and transport services, without any concrete proof, any overseer worth his occupation would be cautious. Still, he was a friendly sort, he didn't refuse her outright (which was a wise move on his part, albeit unknowingly), he still gave her some benefit of the doubt that Agatha spoke the truth. "I understand, Sir." The twintailed brunette sighed, clicking her tongue lowly, "You are just doing your job, I will not fault you for that. If only I have my family crest with me, but alas, shit happens." She shrugged, "Sure, I expected as much, Tulian." The heiress said to her elven friend before turning back to the overseer, "I'll get someone trustworthy to vouch for me. Until then, good day, Sir. Keep up the good work."
Agatha swiveled then made her way out of the drydock, there was no other reason to linger here. "Come on, let's go, last time I heard, Lyra wanted to see the person in charge of this city, which obviously means the Mayor. I think I know where the office is, I have been here a couple of times to resupply and turn-in jobs." Mused Agatha as she jogged lightly up the stairs back towards the city. "Alright... it should be.. this way!"
---
Whether through sheer luck or stroke of fate, Agatha arrived at the porch of Mayor Larota's office tower just as Lyra, the foreign warrior lady, the Mayor herself, and Alexa's teenaged friend met up. "Oh, hey!" Agatha announced her presence with a shout and wave of her left hand, her right still holding her new Talentium weapon. "Phew, just in time, it looks like you guys are leaving." The young woman wiped her forehead, "Alright, sorry for the intrusion, but Lyra, I need your favor in the Nightingale Drydock back at the port. Give your word to the overseer that I am indeed the Heiress. Can't get money or arrange transport for the refugees until he believes my claims." A warm smile, sliiightly begging, "Pretty please...?"
[/fieldbox]
The overseer didn't buy her story, not surprising really. Heck, Agatha would've done the same if she was in his shoes. A stranger claiming to be the heiress, demanding funds and transport services, without any concrete proof, any overseer worth his occupation would be cautious. Still, he was a friendly sort, he didn't refuse her outright (which was a wise move on his part, albeit unknowingly), he still gave her some benefit of the doubt that Agatha spoke the truth. "I understand, Sir." The twintailed brunette sighed, clicking her tongue lowly, "You are just doing your job, I will not fault you for that. If only I have my family crest with me, but alas, shit happens." She shrugged, "Sure, I expected as much, Tulian." The heiress said to her elven friend before turning back to the overseer, "I'll get someone trustworthy to vouch for me. Until then, good day, Sir. Keep up the good work."
Agatha swiveled then made her way out of the drydock, there was no other reason to linger here. "Come on, let's go, last time I heard, Lyra wanted to see the person in charge of this city, which obviously means the Mayor. I think I know where the office is, I have been here a couple of times to resupply and turn-in jobs." Mused Agatha as she jogged lightly up the stairs back towards the city. "Alright... it should be.. this way!"
---
Whether through sheer luck or stroke of fate, Agatha arrived at the porch of Mayor Larota's office tower just as Lyra, the foreign warrior lady, the Mayor herself, and Alexa's teenaged friend met up. "Oh, hey!" Agatha announced her presence with a shout and wave of her left hand, her right still holding her new Talentium weapon. "Phew, just in time, it looks like you guys are leaving." The young woman wiped her forehead, "Alright, sorry for the intrusion, but Lyra, I need your favor in the Nightingale Drydock back at the port. Give your word to the overseer that I am indeed the Heiress. Can't get money or arrange transport for the refugees until he believes my claims." A warm smile, sliiightly begging, "Pretty please...?"
[/fieldbox]