Beindulin is affiliated with the Crimson company, yet she is still welcome amongst the citizens of Elgardt.
It was the slipping sensation of hair falling through her fingers that dragged Beindulin back to the present. Deftly she finished up her braid and secured its’ end. Shooting a quick glance towards the window, she was startled as she noticed how much brighter the day had become. She had been braiding her hair for some time now. This was time she used to gather her thoughts and collect all the courage she could muster to face the day. For some weeks now, this task had been taking longer and longer. Her braids getting more and more complex; the world around her sinking into madness. Yes, these were frightening times, wrought with new dangers; both real and imagined.
Rising she makes her way to the window and looks down onto the street. Usually at this time of morning it would be bustling with life, as people stopped in their tasks and gossiped amongst themselves. Now days when there was someone in the street they kept strictly to the job at hand, their face haunted looking and fear in their eyes. No children playing and no chatter, just the awkward silence of distrust.
Withdrawing from the window, she made her way down to the tavern common. Some days she wondered why she even bothered. The cellar master (and tavern owner) hadn’t been seen for weeks and the mead was near non-existent. Three days ago cookie had gone missing and the larder was looking mighty woeful. In a way the quietness couldn’t have come at a better time. She stayed because at least she had a roof over her head and the promise of good if not basic food. She still remembered a time when she had neither.
Today however, she just headed straight to her morning tasks. Beindulin grasped the poker and smacked it sharply onto the large log that had smouldered overnight. Once the black outer coals had been cracked open, she put more timber in the fireplace and spoke softly, almost singing to the wood which she knew would soon be ablaze. Heading out back into the kitchen she took stock of the available supplies. Soon she’d have to get some more, but today she had enough for bread. Outside the water barrel had frozen over again. She stared down into her reflection, and two mis-matched eyes stared back. Oh how she hated them. They branded her as different... as a graceling. One to be distrusted, as her grace hadn’t been discovered yet.
It was the sound of the heavy front door being kicked open, followed closely by the shrill sounds of a woman in hysterics that brought her back to the task at hand. The bottom of the ladle made quick work of breaking through the thin film of ice and quickly she scooped out what she would need. Then it was back into the kitchen and to see what all the commotion was about...
Beindulin often changes between the use of sword and shield to staff and magic. Her alignment is yet to be shown