What Did I Miss?

It'd been a long time.
Too long, clearly.

The trek to Tolgalen had been less than pleasant; the trek through it even less so. A faint iron scent trailed behind the girl, her hand never drawing far from the handle of her blade. Such a... Dangerous place. Unpleasant and unpredictable. It reminded her of herself, once upon a time. She hadn't escaped that part of her quite yet, but she was determined to try.
To try and be a better person.
She scoffed, quietly. How utterly cliché.
But nevertheless, here she was. Three years older. When she finally found the Onyx Moon guild, it became clear to her all at once that she was unfashionably late.

The realization hit her a little harder than she expected; she could tell, within moments, that it had not seen use in some time. She was almost shaken enough to draw a reassuring hand to her chest, but she kept it by her sword. Clenched her fist as a substitute.
She hadn't known any of them well. She hadn't known the guild well, either. Just that it'd been... Hers. In an odd way that's all that she'd felt like she needed.
T'was clear that she no longer had it.
A bemused nod, trying to convince herself that she understood the gravity of the situation. Had she been expelled, she wondered, due to her unwarranted absence? Most likely... But no letters of notice had ever reached her. Hells, they probably hadn't known how to reach her. It wasn't like she hadn't lived as a nomad until recently. Not like they'd even recognize her if they saw her now; a black jacket, tattered to all hell, wrapped her body. Her hair what had once been let loose was tied into a lengthy and thin ponytail. She'd, evidently, gone through a reform. And she hardly mirrored the naïve child of eld.

Well...
The girl peered around herself inquisitively. Turned a few times. Scried the brush with her eye. She let her hand fall to her sword; she could talk her way out of a lot of things, but she was more inclined to be ready for a fight. Her fingers gripped the shaft. An audible exhale. She would wait, then. Perhaps a chance encounter would occur, and this would all be cleared up. Perhaps she'd have to fight something, as per usual.

She'd spotted him long before he dropped before her; heard the wind's subtle movements. Heard it pick up a good ways off. Even in the daylight, she was dangerously sharp.
To make her stance on this matter known, Lothric pushed one foot back, and pushed her handle down to ready it for a quick draw; the butt and subsequently clinked as it was pushed up in reply. Her eye was narrow, her other twitching as it tried to mimic the motion. Scarred shut. At least, mostly. Her hand flexed. Squeezed the handle. She inhaled, slowly.
Lothric straightened herself, and lifted her left arm. Her hand came to peel down the overhanging trench-coat sleeve and there, on her forearm, burned a red symbol of what that man at that time had likely not wanted to see the most. A clear, though a bit faded, Onyx Moon tattoo.

"...Lothric." said the girl, her voice appropriately high for her body but not nearly so for how she carried herself. She was clad in that trench coat, black as night with sleeves too long. The hem of the coat was burned, torn, and bloodied. As a matter of fact, most of the backside was. Hell, most of the whole thing was torn and bloody. With a shake of her arm the sleeve slid back down, and she rested her arm on the hilt of her sword. Her right curled slightly in front of herself, along her stomach. Defensive, but less so. She didn't recognize this man. Admittedly, she wouldn't have recognized most people from the company. Or anybody, really. This had hardly been her home, but... It'd been more of a home than anywhere else the vagrant had stumbled.
To further clarify what she wanted, Lothric loosely motioned her hand to the building on her left. "You know what happened to that establishment there?"

Ah, well... There surely would have been a better way to phrase that, no?

Lothric's feet shuffled, spreading just a touch; her body turned sideways, and the hand resting on the hilt of her sword drew down, and grabbed the sheath. Her other lingered near that hilt, ready to grab it at a moment's notice. If he had been trying to make her antsy, he had succeeded. Then again, she hadn't been particularly calm beforehand. "Yeah?" She said, almost sounding surprised at how straight-forwardly evil he made himself out to be. Her head rolled to one side, her half-gaze firmly locked with his eyes. Her other, evidently, did not open easily. It was scarred shut. "Is that right?" And with that, her hand clapped down onto the handle of her sword once more. She relaxed no longer.

Her feet shuffled again. They spread some more. "What's your deal, then?" He was fixed with a look of distrust. Yet, simultaneously confusion. For to admit to it was... Questionable, at best. "You some sort of evil, corrupt businessman or something?" Spread a little more. Just a touch. "Whatever. Why are you here?"