Carrion Crown Season One IC

[The_Snark]

Everything seems strangely quiet after the battle. Without people crying out in pain or warning, the thrumming of stirge-wings, and the eerie interplay of Zellara's song and the unseen flutist, all Irina can hear is the sound of her own heartbeat, still hammering with adrenaline. Harrowing though this was, she can't help but feel, well, victorious - she must have killed half a dozen of the little things, and come out unscathed. The only injury she's suffered is having her hands coated in a gory mix of blood and ichor...

... which is admittedly disgusting, now that she's no longer distracted by the rush of battle. There must be something around here she can use to wash her hands. A stream would be best, a well would suffice; since she won't find either of those on the road, a spare waterskin or a kerchief someone won't miss too much will have to do. The guards must have something to clean blood off their weapons after using them, right?

"Oh, no -" Irina holds up her hands to demur as the guard offers to give up his seat, realizing only too late that that's not the most reassuring gesture at the moment. "I was just looking for something to clean up with. People might get the wrong idea if I walk into Ravengro with my hands dripping red, you know?" She flashes him a smile as she backs off. Obnoxious as the man's leering is, she'd rather that than spreading rumors about her uncanny knack for violence... even if part of her does feel vindictively satisfied at the hint of fear in his eyes.

To Irina”My thanks to you as well, Miss Irina.” he says with a respectful nod. He eyes her hands curiously, remembering how she shaped them into claws. ”That was an interesting ability you displayed there. Was that a magical effect? I’ve heard that some magical bloodlines allows for such claws.” he says with interest, no indication of disgust or fear evident.

"I've little knowledge of magic," she says to Aaron guardedly. There's no accusation in his voice, but she can't help but be uneasy talking about this - especially not out in the open, where any of a dozen people might overhear. ( Not that privacy would help, if past experience with Professor Lorrimor is any indication.) "A scholar I know thought it might be a sign of something inhuman in my ancestry, but neither of my parents ever said anything about that, and I would think they'd know."

She holds up one hand, fingers splayed. The nails come to a point rather than an oval shape, and they're perhaps a little longer and thicker than usual, but otherwise they look normal. If she hadn't just torn apart a beast with her bare hands, it would be easy to overlook. "They're just... sharp. It's not that strange, is it?"