The Claiomh Solais [#Wattys2016]

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Eimhir Jasvinder slipped in and out of the crowds of people that swarmed the large marketplace. A dark grey cloak hooded her features and bellowed out from behind her like a cape. It wasn't unusual for people to walk around fully clothed at this time of year as it was merely 2 weeks from the beginning of Samhain and the biting wind had begun to creep in.

She didn't stand out as she slipped past stalls in the bustling square in the centre of Lármad, sometimes slipping her hand out of her cloak to grab an apple or a small vile from under the noses of distracted stall holders.

Although her features were concealed by the dark material of the cloak her eyes still flashed bright blue and a dull ash brown hair hung down by her shoulders in a fishtail braid. She hated the colour blue, it reminded her of 'His Majesty The King'.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the thought of his title. He didn't deserve it, after everything he'd done.

Her one sole purpose today had been to obtain food and barter for a new set of daggers. The others had been lost several days beforehand due to her carelessness in the depths of the forest that surrounded Lármad.

She had acquired the food and had even managed to gather some small tubes of Belladonna, a deadly poison, and a couple of pieces of gauze, lest she'd get injured in the coming winter months.

She'd yet to find a good enough weapons arsenal to buy daggers from and she was beginning to get restless. The sun was quickly dipping west, behind the trees of the forest and she had to find a place to stay before the darkness came.

She really need those daggers though.

She sighed quietly. She was agitated. The one day that she decided to come to the market, risk her neck, to actually bother with safety and protection, there was no daggers. None. Nada.

As she prowled across the square a blue cloaked figure bashed into her. His green eyes flickered to meets her's just as she ducked her head down behind the cloak. She snarled. It was not her day.

She felt her temper rising like a whirl wind inside her. She clamped down on it quickly, biting her lip in the process as she clamped down on her lip, as she clenched her teeth. She could taste the bitter tang of iron from the blood that escaped her bruised lip.

She cursed colourfully which only made it worse. The tempest swirled up again. She had to get out, now.

Her cloak swirled behind her as she made towards the exit of the large market square. She walked in a hurried pace but she, made no move to run, it would stir up too much suspicion.  She slipped into a dark alleyway and hurried down the cobbled street towards the looming coniferous trees.

It was still cracking inside her. The Majik, waiting to let loose. She clenched one hand on the silver necklace at her neck, a silver feather and a dog tag, and the other on a long stiletto dagger at her side.

The temperature dropped significantly as she slithered along the streets. She felt murderous. She didn't know why. The loss of her daggers couldn't have made her that angry, could they?