[Fate, if Jade believed in such things, had the cruelest sense of humor, if recent developments were to tell her anything. The irony that she had fled her home country in an attempt to evade the tides of a three-decade-long civil war which tore it apart and the shackles of slavery once again, only to end up in chains anyways is not lost on her.
[She could almost laugh, if the makeshift "chains" didn't make her feel weak; the devices implemented on her having cut her off from the Sea of Eventualities that binds her to her newfound magic. And though said magic was still fairly new to her, Jade had grown used enough to it that its absence was definitely felt during that long period she had spent laboring away.
[And yet she was never quite... there. It was more than just fatigue from the physical exhaustion; her mind was a haze...
[Up until the very moment that those chains were released again, and she was free.
[Still too weak to fully reach out to her magic once again, the "Prophetess" simply goes through the motions. Get new clothes, cast shady glances at her supposed saviors, and scrutinizing the food that's been so generously prepared for them.]
No... No thank you. I'm not hungry, really. Maybe give it to someone who needs it.
[Even though her turning stomach betrays her dismissive comment, the irony of the towering but gaunt half-Aeterna woman saying such a thing should also not be lost on anyone she tries to pass the offered meal off to. She does need it, much like how she could use a warm bath and an Apothacarius for the cuts and bruises on her scarred body. But as far as dire circumstances go, the latter is probably of least concern.]
ii. waterlogged
[Far be it from Jade to pass up on a chance to get drunk and merry now that she's had time to process everything. It's not the best bottle she's ever had the chance to get shitfaced on, but far from the worst.
[And though she's not quite fully sloshed, she puts on her best "drunk chick" act when she plops her ass down in a seat -- any seat -- resting her elbow over the table and leaning on.]
'Eyyy, that's a nice face ya got there. S'very... Well. It's certainly a face, yeah?
[Is that your drink you've been working on? Not anymore. She's taking it and attempting to finish the damn tankard.
[Otherwise, she is shamelessly making an ass out of herself, making flirty comments with random passersby, and occasionally being met with positive results. She'd spent enough time in captivity that she'd earned a right to cut loose, wouldn't you agree?]
iii. wildcard
[ooc: Choose your own adventure! Feel free to PM me or hit me up on plurk or whathaveyou if there's anything else you'd rather do instead of these things.]
Jade "the Prophetess" | Enderal: Forgotten Stories | OU.
[She could almost laugh, if the makeshift "chains" didn't make her feel weak; the devices implemented on her having cut her off from the Sea of Eventualities that binds her to her newfound magic. And though said magic was still fairly new to her, Jade had grown used enough to it that its absence was definitely felt during that long period she had spent laboring away.
[And yet she was never quite... there. It was more than just fatigue from the physical exhaustion; her mind was a haze...
[Up until the very moment that those chains were released again, and she was free.
[Still too weak to fully reach out to her magic once again, the "Prophetess" simply goes through the motions. Get new clothes, cast shady glances at her supposed saviors, and scrutinizing the food that's been so generously prepared for them.]
No... No thank you. I'm not hungry, really. Maybe give it to someone who needs it.
[Even though her turning stomach betrays her dismissive comment, the irony of the towering but gaunt half-Aeterna woman saying such a thing should also not be lost on anyone she tries to pass the offered meal off to. She does need it, much like how she could use a warm bath and an Apothacarius for the cuts and bruises on her scarred body. But as far as dire circumstances go, the latter is probably of least concern.]
ii. waterlogged
[And though she's not quite fully sloshed, she puts on her best "drunk chick" act when she plops her ass down in a seat -- any seat -- resting her elbow over the table and leaning on.]
'Eyyy, that's a nice face ya got there. S'very... Well. It's certainly a face, yeah?
[Is that your drink you've been working on? Not anymore. She's taking it and attempting to finish the damn tankard.
[Otherwise, she is shamelessly making an ass out of herself, making flirty comments with random passersby, and occasionally being met with positive results. She'd spent enough time in captivity that she'd earned a right to cut loose, wouldn't you agree?]
iii. wildcard