Beira was quite irritated, as she stood in Hargeon Town, watching the crowds bustling about and screaming and clawing at each other, while they struggled to get some stupid document. Beira had heard of passports; as a matter of fact, she knew what exactly they were. The only thing was, the God Slayer had never imagined that such a document as the passport would become so important. So far, with her interdimensional powers, Beira had never seen the need to acquire a passport, until she was faced with a job in which she was interested in, only to discover that to be able to take the job, one needed a passport. Of all the insufferable nerve. She had been initially minded not to bother herself with getting the passport, but eventually, she had reasoned that getting it would be advantageous, especially when she didn't wish to rely on her powers to make her way across borders.
For this reason, she stood watching the struggling masses with great irritation, her body wrapped in her traveling cloak, even as she suppressed the aura created by her lineage's Cynosure ability. She was cooking inside the thick cloak, but she decided to stay as she was and cook. There was no advantage to be had for her in drawing attention to herself because of her Utgardian flavored choice of clothes. The God Slayer let out a sigh and walked up to the edge of the crowd, trying to figure out how to get her passport as quickly as possible. The only problem was that nobody at the moment looked willing to do a girl some favors. Unless she would have to rely on the ability she had been suppressing. With a sigh, Beira allowed her Cynosure to express itself.
In almost a synchronized movement, the heads of everyone there turned towards her. She pretended to take no notice of them, as she walked towards the crowd. As though under a spell, but then again, they were, the crowd parted as she walked through, in a very stately fashion, until she had gotten right up to the booth wherein sat the immigration officer, who had, up until this time, been absolutely unbothered by the fact that there was a massive throng beyond the rickety safety of his shelter. As she approached, the man's eyes met hers, and he immediately became flustered. "Is-- is there anything you would like me to do for you, ma'am?" he quickly asked.
"My my, you are incredibly perceptive, aren't you?" Beira asked, her voice slightly teasing but her tone sarcastic. "I'd very much love a passport, but I'm afraid there are too many people asking for your attention, and I shan't be able to get it today, despite the urgency of my need for the item. I wonder if you could do me a favor and just help me out with such a thing as little as this." The man nodded rapidly and set to work. There were murmurs in the crowd, but so far, nobody burst into an irate mass of wracked nerves. She got her passport rather quickly, despite the fact that it had seemed to be an hour's work, before she had stepped up. It said she was from Iceberg, and there was no surname, but that was fine. The immigration officer didn't even look bothered when she mentioned that he should leave her surname blank.
Soon, it was signed, stamped and submitted to her. And as she came, so she left, with the noise of the crowd intensifying incredibly as soon as she had left the place.
WC: 601 words.
For this reason, she stood watching the struggling masses with great irritation, her body wrapped in her traveling cloak, even as she suppressed the aura created by her lineage's Cynosure ability. She was cooking inside the thick cloak, but she decided to stay as she was and cook. There was no advantage to be had for her in drawing attention to herself because of her Utgardian flavored choice of clothes. The God Slayer let out a sigh and walked up to the edge of the crowd, trying to figure out how to get her passport as quickly as possible. The only problem was that nobody at the moment looked willing to do a girl some favors. Unless she would have to rely on the ability she had been suppressing. With a sigh, Beira allowed her Cynosure to express itself.
In almost a synchronized movement, the heads of everyone there turned towards her. She pretended to take no notice of them, as she walked towards the crowd. As though under a spell, but then again, they were, the crowd parted as she walked through, in a very stately fashion, until she had gotten right up to the booth wherein sat the immigration officer, who had, up until this time, been absolutely unbothered by the fact that there was a massive throng beyond the rickety safety of his shelter. As she approached, the man's eyes met hers, and he immediately became flustered. "Is-- is there anything you would like me to do for you, ma'am?" he quickly asked.
"My my, you are incredibly perceptive, aren't you?" Beira asked, her voice slightly teasing but her tone sarcastic. "I'd very much love a passport, but I'm afraid there are too many people asking for your attention, and I shan't be able to get it today, despite the urgency of my need for the item. I wonder if you could do me a favor and just help me out with such a thing as little as this." The man nodded rapidly and set to work. There were murmurs in the crowd, but so far, nobody burst into an irate mass of wracked nerves. She got her passport rather quickly, despite the fact that it had seemed to be an hour's work, before she had stepped up. It said she was from Iceberg, and there was no surname, but that was fine. The immigration officer didn't even look bothered when she mentioned that he should leave her surname blank.
Soon, it was signed, stamped and submitted to her. And as she came, so she left, with the noise of the crowd intensifying incredibly as soon as she had left the place.
WC: 601 words.
