Though her name hailed from Magnemea, Skylla had no love for this province. She held no love or memories of the people that lived on his mountainside, hailing from an island rather than his oppressive province itself. The people of her island? She did rather enjoy them, though she had no desire to return. Not yet. Maybe not ever. The young woman had not decided her next course of action now that her training had taken her down avenues she would otherwise have been unable to explore. Travel was something that she and Lysander did together now. They moved from place to place, healing the sick and taking stock of what they could do to help.
Skylla had never gathered whether Lysander actually liked helping people or if he just liked to keep his hands and his mind busy. Skylla herself held no care for most of her patience, exploring healing because it was both lucrative and familiar. She would never admit it, but the soft part of herself enjoyed the company of other people...
Especially when they were too sick to leave her behind.
But she did not like Magnemea. She didn't like the drab scenery and she especially didn't like the feeling of oppression, though she thrived in it at every other instance. Not her own oppression, but the oppression of others. She knew herself, and if she ever did get herself into a situation where she was being held against her will, Skylla knew that she would eventually rain hell down on whoever kept her in their grips.
Sticking close to the harbor, Skylla broke off from Lysander's company early in the evening, wanting to find a quiet spot to have a drink on her own. Their day had been filled with tending to mining slaves' wounds and a few sick elderly people, but nothing too major. However, tedium bred boredom and Skylla was bored. And on the hunt. For someone, anyone, really, if it meant that she could cure that feeling of well and truly having nothing to occupy her time.
Lysander was likely sticking his cock into the first woman he found and Skylla's mind was trailing in the same direction, though her gaze sought out the company of a man rather than a woman. At least tonight. Settling at a small table in one of the shadier taverns, Skylla stared into her cup of wine, sighing deeply through her nose and letting her gaze trail slowly across each man who inhabited the space. There had to be someone interesting, and if there wasn't, it was likely that she would move on to the next tavern in search of someone who was.
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