The stranger, unremarkable except for the fact that they were just under five feet tall, had entered the Colosseum a little late, but by pushing and shoving, and maybe a few elbows in tender places like the stomach, the person had managed to gain a good view. It was the last match before the intense heat of midday, and the two gladiators below were fighting until first blood. Their blunted weapons glittered in the sun.
But that was not what the stranger was here to watch. The person had a more important purpose then scanning the crowd- she was looking for someone. Someone who was missing.
Under her thin light clothing, Lyrien was sweating. Originally, she had planned on wearing more traditional style Essyrni clothing, but she had soon realized that was impossible. As her pale skin did not tan- another ever-so-helpful bonus connected to her brightly copper-colored hair and fae heritage –if she didn't cover up, she would be burned to a crisp.
So she had improvised. The clothing was lightly colored, and as cool as you could get in this hot climate, it had all of the prudishness that Essyrni styles lacked. In addition, a hood came up to cover her face and her hair. Instead of leaving it its natural copper, Lyrien had taken the liberty of rubbing her hair with ash- an old habit left over from her time in the old village where she was born. It was a dull patchy-looking grayish color, and felt dirty.
Oh well, thought Lyrien. Just a few more days in this oven and I'm done.
Originally, she had been aghast by the size of the city, but as she had quickly found out, foreigners- like herself –stood out. That did nothing to improve her temper, as she had seen her brother nowhere, no matter what places she had looked.
She scanned the crowd again, searching for a little boy around her brother's age. An Essyrni seated below her caught her eye for a second, and she quickly switched her gaze to the sweating men in the arena.
The minutes dragged on.
The fighting finished with the crowd and the victor screaming in triumph as he was led off, the looser left holding his arm, a grimace of anger on his face.
Lyrien couldn't care less. As the crowd flooded out of the arena, she scanned their faces desperately. There were a few young boys, and many pale-skinned foreigners, but no sign of her brother. Her head down, Lyrien sighed quietly, and stood. Almost everyone had left the Colosseum already, and as she stepped onto the streets, she found them strangely empty. It was only when she heard the Noontime crier a few minutes later that she realized why.
Damn. The sun was beating down over her head, she was thirsty, tired, and sweating profusely. As she looked around for the street she had came from, sweat dripped into her eyes, momentarily blinding her. Cursing quietly, she longed to throw her hood back and feel the momentary relief it brought. She resisted, knowing she would pay for the fleeting illusion with sunburn and dehydration.
Ice, she thought to herself. Ice, ice, ice, ice, ice. She closed her eyes, imagining stepping into a tub filled with the stuff. That would feel amazing right now.
Using her sleeve, she pushed back her hood slightly, swiping at her forehead and face before quickly pulling it back into place before anyone could see her pointed ears.
The heat dragged at her eyelids, pulling them down. Her brain felt fuzzy and exhausted. She couldn't remember which street she had come from. Heat stroke, probably, she thought lazily as she sank down in the shadow of a building. She wondered if anyone had ever died from the heat in this city. Surely she was just being silly.
Oh, it was too hot here...
