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Bright Journey	It's late afternoon, or early evening, depending on how you want to think of it, in the Temple District. It's humid but cool out, rain threatening from billowing grey clouds overhead but not quite to the point where it's going to fall. Not yet, at any rate. The festival has come to a close, and the street sweepers of Great Forks have been through at least twice in the last few days. They still haven't gotten rid of every bit of streamer, bunting, or (knowing how Great Forks can be sometimes) discarded bit of lacy undergarment. At least the city is starting to come back from it's massive bender, though, and the shops and bordellos are seeing business start to pick up again. That's not the only element that's come out to play, though. Perhaps inspired by the frantically whispered rumors of black-clad figures treating with the city's rulers, or perhaps prodded on by the hunger and filth of a hundred ragged back alleys, there's recently been a spate of burglaries, pickpockets, and muggings. Great Forks has never been a city of exemplary law and order, of course, but in large part it's been considered simply a cost of doing business. Now, though, the shops might have an extra hired guard, and everyone's looking over their shoulder. The less affluently dressed get extra scrutiny by both the common person and the city watch, and it's not a time to leave your smallsword at home. Not that any of that seems to be stopping Bright Journey. Her hair might not be as colorful as the streamers still halfheartedly clinging to the poles propping up the overhead sunshades, but even in that big black cloak she's pretty easy to spot. The stalls are still open, the temples begging for alms, and Bright is one of many still here, in line at what looks to be a sausage stand.
Aine	It may not be the festival any longer, but these streets can come up with a commotion all the same- particularly where the aforementioned crime is concerned. It starts with a shout, and when one's attention turns to the scene, a scraggly, dishevelled woman is leaned forward, her arm wrenched around the wrong way with her elbow and shoulder locked by a borderline-crushing hold from a large, foreign-looking woman. There's not a great deal of malice to it, and the foreigner almost looks more... disappointed, or wearied, than anything. "Okay, run off now maid, an' keep yer hands to yerself, aye?" says the larger woman, giving a slight push that sends the destitute stumbling, just scarcely catching herself from fully falling over. It's not long before she makes to run off, rubbing her shoulder with a wincing grimace.
Bright Journey	It's at this point that most people would stay out of it. Even the few that wouldn't turn and run at the first sign of a scuffle usually tell themselves that the interesting part is over, and they can stay in line and buy their sausages like anyone else. Bright Journey, of course, is not most people. That's obvious at a glance, but the young lady is giving the foreign-looking woman a lot more than a glance at this point. Certainly, she's not averting her eyes like most would; she's not looking aggressive, but she's not looking to avoid attention, either. Even more interesting, though, is it takes all of fifteen seconds, maybe, for the pink-haired one to utterly abandon her place in line and start making her way across the crowded square to where the incident took place. She doesn't spare so much as a fleeting glance back whence she came. Were one to be paying attention, it might even be that this, not the sausage, was what she was truly waiting for. Before Bright steps out of the crowd, though, she spares a long, searching look around. Perhaps someone else was interested in the exchange...
Aine	At a solid six feet and perhaps a little change, and a strong-looking person besides, Aine about dwarfs most residents of Great Forks, and most anyone watching the incident seems to be opting to shy away from approach. The telltale simple clothes of a martial artist of one of the nearby combative temples certainly doesn't hurt the matter. Aine is fairly unremarkably dusting herself off, double checking the odd pouch hanging from a belt or such to ensure it's still in place. As Bright emerges, she looks up with a quirked eyebrow. "Somethin' I can help with? I have all my things, if you're wonderin', an'I think she's the one hurtin' if that's yer concern."
Bright Journey	Stepping out from between a pair of intent-looking shoppers, Bright offers Aine a reassuring little grin. She's not a short young woman, precisely, but at 5'8 the martial artist fairly dwarfs her as well as she does most everyone else around. "Well, now," Bright replies casually, "it's nice, first of all, to hear someone offer to help instead of the 'whaddaya want' I usually get in some parts around here. I'm not really here to mend hurts, as such, though I've some small skill at that. I've more come to ask you a question or two, if I could, and if you have the time. "Call me Bright Journey." She bows as one would to an equal. She doesn't look afraid, certainly, and she at least sounds friendly enough, but there's a touch of wariness as well.
Aine	Crossing one arm over her upper chest and tugging it closer to herself with the other, Aine stretches absently as she considers the question. She glances down the street, and down at her still-intact effects (Including a solid pair of wooden nunchaku that a certain thief is surely happy stayed stowed in her belt), and then shrugs. "Sure. I've no hurry to be any place right now I suppose. What do you need?" She adjusts her posture a little, then settles into a decidedly un-martial lean to one side, hand resting on her hip absently.
Bright Journey	As Bright steps to one side, half leaning against the lip of a stone fountain, she considers the martial artist for a short, curious moment. It only lasts a second, though, and instead of bothering to ask for name, occupation, or any such things, she considers her words carefully and then speaks to the heart of the matter. "There's...several things I'm looking into right now. It's best if I don't get into all of it, as interesting as some of it is, but...well, when I saw you handle that little sneak so easily it hit me. What could have possessed a pickpocket to pick -you- as a target? Tall, strong, dangerous, surely aware of her surroundings and, well..." She pauses for a moment to choose her words. "Forgive me for temporizing a bit, but professional martial artists aren't especially known for having noble-quality bulging coinpurses. They're just known to be really, really bad people to cross. I realize she wasn't the First Age scholar of the thieving world, but surely anyone else would have been a smarter choice for her." "So, please forgive me if I sound impertinent. But I was wondering if there's some other quality that may have made her pick you over some drunk, bumbling priest. I'm assuming you didn't know her...?"
Aine	"My best guess is she heard footfalls and came out of the alley, went for it before seeing me," says Aine, shaking her head and upturning her palms. "But, reading criminals is no' my strongest suit. An' bless their hearts, but a lo' o' my fellow students are a li'l head in the clouds- only so aware when actually expecting a fight. So much time in the temple, not so much in the way of the unexpected. I learned early- many warring clans and headhunter cults where I come from."
Bright Journey	At this, Bright nods in understanding. "Actually, that makes more sense, if she simply lept before she looked. I appreciate it." She chuckles wryly. "And about the warnings about some of your sisters and brothers in arms. If that's how they are, I wish them luck. I've spent a bit of time hunting, so I'm well aware of what happens when you're not aware of what's going on around you." Bright turns a bit, still leaning against the fountain but gestures towards the tall, powerful temples all around. "Then again, I'll never match your grace, and I'm not the scholar you and yours probably are. I haven't seen much of clans where I grew up, but cults? There's one I stumbled across just a few weeks ago. And there's the well-timed, some might even say -coordinated- thievery now. And I'm sure you've heard about the high level meetings with unpleasant looking, black-clad folk. Can't get away from -those- rumors, and I saw a carriage procession myself at one point." Bright just smiles fondly, looking at the deepening sky. "I...could have my head in the clouds myself, I suppose. But my instincts tell me at least -some- of all of this is related. Have you ever felt the same way?" Bright looks at Aine curiously, but intently. She's not staring, but this is clearly not a throwaway question.
Aine	Aine actually laughs for a moment at that, shaking her head a little. "A scholar I am not. Not your usual god-minded temple. More of a glorified school for fighting people. Certainly I hear rumours, but being new in town and mostly head down, hard for me t'speak to it to any real degree. Other than knowing enough to know that -black- dyes are vanishin'ly rare, and not like to find many folk just coincidentally wearing it," she muses, looking upward a moment as she ponders. "I mean, certainly nothing pleasant coming of it all, but I don't know if I want to accuse a hungry person of something nefarious off the drop?" She wonders aloud, head tilting slightly.
Bright Journey	Bright tosses her hair behind her and finger her own cloak, which is quite black. "Well, I didn't mean to say black is always bad," she says, chuckling. Indeed, she has on other colors underneath. "But I got a glimpse of the people in that procession, and I assure you, it looked like they were wearing funereal shrouds with sleeves. I don't mean to make assumptions, mind you, but...well, I'm sure you can see where I'm going with that. Believe me, if you'd seen them traveling to the palace like we did, you'd have come to the same conclusion. As for the thief...eh, I admit you have a point on that one. That very well could be an overactive imagination, I suppose. Certainly, I'm looking for conspiracy and danger, in a rather...well, roundabout way." "So, I have but two more questions, and I hope you'll indulge me. First, I don't suppose you'd mind if I asked your name? I don't believe I caught it yet. And second, I'm starving. How do you feel about the sausage vendor over yonder?"
Aine	"Aine, is my name- and I feel plenty fine about most sorts of cured meats," says the northerly woman with a smirk. She stretches more broadly then, settling a more seady stance for walking into place. "Might want t'look an' see if any folk from Sijan are passin' through- though I hear they wear more purple? But the funerary bit seems to fit the mark."