[/html]She had traveled far and seen much, but in the end, she was a collector of many, many little things: little facts, little tidbits of knowledge, little know-hows of a hundred minor things. She enjoyed knowing, but she was no scholar. She took what she needed and discarded the rest. There was nothing she would boast expertise in, though part of this was out of self-serving modesty. It was better to feign mediocrity in handling the blades woven into her cloak; it was better to not mention too loudly her knowledge of poisons; it was best, of course, to act the part of just a strange woman, frightened of the sun.
Her own ears swept forward as the stranger's pulled back. She'd come in the midst of violence, it seemed, though it was easy enough to guess as much. It was the simplest explaination for the man's still-hidden injury and his high-strung demeanor. The albino pulled her ears back respectfully and bowed her head briefly. "I'm sorry for your loss." Then she shook her head. "And I'm sorry I can't be of more help. I've only encountered a few others, but none appeared hostile."
Cassandra cocked her head curiously. "What quarrel do these mercenaries have with you?"
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