Rennur og rennur foli mín || OPEN || Kátur leikar foli mín

As many of her compatriots in the Black Sails crew had learned, it was nearly impossible to catch Karin in her quarters...or even in the general vicinity of the pirate’s lair for that matter. Although she had agreed to help the guild in whatever manner she could, she had taken it as a fairly loose one at that; essentially to only be taken advantage of in the most dire of circumstances, or whenever one could get her to put aside her perennial wanderlust for a period of time long enough to actually perform some form of work around the camp (whenever she was around, that is). It was not her intention to shirk her duties, but it could easily be interpreted as such if an outside observer did not know her all too well; she was simply being herself. The nomadism that defined her childhood and her entire life up until that point would likely be impossible to erase from her personality--as a child, she had learned that staying sedentary meant you starved in the far north. Although she knew that there was plenty to eat in these southern lands, she had been conditioned to always been on the move, to always be looking for somewhere else.

That being said, the huntress was not dressed in the clothes of a woodswoman or a ranger; rather, her chosen attire was something far less utilitarian. Wearing a white tunic with matching trousers and boots, it was not as though she was entirely dressed to blend in with the rest of Fiore; but, it was a hint that, at least for today, she would not be having any adventures….not any involving going to the wilderness, anyways. Her latest adventure was somewhere that put her out of her element: Rose Garden. She could navigate and survive the wilderness on her own just fine, but getting accustomed to the urban jungle was something that she had put off for quite some time. Her genuine critiques of city life were often sharp and came from the perspective of a wandering soul such as herself, but the dazzling lights and endless consumption of goods and services simultaneously left her bewildered and intrigued. The luxury that was blatantly on display was something she had never seen; women regularly wearing jewelry and makeup, men dressed with timepieces on their wrists and in casual clothing--all of it suggested a lifestyle that was well-to-do, even among the less advantaged.

Perhaps it was her attire, or the color and length of her hair, or her lack of makeup--it seemed that she got looks on the street wherever she went, and it unnerved her to a degree. Rather than tied back or styled, her hair was left to fall freely along her back and past her waist; she had passed several hair salons on her walk down the street, and several stylists standing outside had commented on how clean it was or offered to cut it for her--she declined their offers, but accepted the praise meekly. A couple of street vendors had tried to sell her makeup for her naturally pale face, while others had tried to sell her jewelry, both of which she passed on for lack of coin--she had enough for a meal or two, and that was it. After another few minutes of walking, she came across what appeared to be an inn tucked into a corner lot, the sign reading "The Silver Moon Inn." She gave a curious hum and shrugged; as she started to walk off, her stomach gave a soft growl to remind her that she had skipped breakfast that morning.

Frowning, she took a seat on a nearby bench and pulled her pack around so that she would be able to look through it. After finding the small pouch of coin she kept buried under everything else. she opened it and quickly took count of what was inside. Finding that the amount was satisfactory, she tossed it back in and pulled out two red-brown ribbons; she tied one into her hair just above her shoulders, and the other about two thirds of the way down her back. The entire reason behind it was not to look nice, but to keep her hair out of her plate. Getting up from the bench, she grabbed her pack once more and walked inside the inn...