This is a training RP between AA and student.

Lounging against the glossy grey stonework of the town centre’s (pretentiously) magnificent fountain, she watched the stranger arrive with a smile on her face. By no means one of the soft brown people that populated this land, but aiming to fit in as much as she was able to by wearing their clothes and abiding by their customs, Aria found it faintly laughable that anyone could stand out quite so much when entering a new place. Maybe she was being arrogant, but it seemed unbelievably stupid to stand out so much and in a manner that screamed of riches and ransoms. ...some people wanted to get kidnapped. Then again, maybe that was what the giant weapon was for, because as far as Aria was concerned, something that large on a girl that small had to be for show.

Benjamin would have berated her for having such ideas (he was a lancer himself, and knew full well how to wield such a weapon), and had always been insistent on not underestimating an opponent, but seeing as Benjamin was miles away and probably up to his middle in snow... Aria let herself grin and feel superior as she swung her long legs down off of the plinth. Maybe she was a bit on the arrogant side, she mused, but knowing it surely made it better? She could be humble when she wanted; it was only the idiots that she scorned.

Idiots who wore silly little crowns like golden banners saying ‘abduct me’ and travelled completely alone despite looking both expensive and important. Aria shook her head, snorting in faintly equine amusement. Aria, though obviously an outsider given her pale skin, dark hair and blue eyes, had gone to a great deal of trouble to fit in, so she couldn’t quite fathom why this other woman had chosen not to.

How said woman had arrived was yet another mystery, Aria realised as she wandered after her, padding quietly behind her like every other bored citizen looking for drinks after a hard day’s work. There was no sign of a horse in the vicinity, and she would have heard a carriage, so the only possibly explanation was that the woman had walked, but with such a massive weapon slung at her back... Aria shuddered at the thought of the blisters she herself would amass if attempting to do the same. Maybe the stranger had stronger skin under all that expensive fabric.

‘Or maybe she has a horse secreted away somewhere,’ mused the voice in the back of her mind (a voice that sounded so much like her own mental narrative, but always seemed to walk a slightly different path), and Aria had to agree. It was very possible that she DID have a horse somewhere and Aria simply hadn’t noticed it.

A quick examination proved that there was no new beast in the stables that she used, but there were others, though she wasn’t about to send Michael (her colt, her dancer) out into the town in search of strange horses for fear of drawing too much attention. The fact that she rode such a fine animal had garnered far too many looks for her liking, and she wasn’t about to allow idle curiosity to become anything more than that.

‘Quite right too,’ the voice insisted, amusement colouring the edges of Aria’s mind. She shook her head to clear it away, more interested in examining the stranger than getting lost in her own (semi-)private thoughts.

It was easy to spot the stranger, as she was the focus of many strange looks, and the top of her halberd standing up like a flag over her head drew the eye with unerring accuracy. Aria almost giggled at how ridiculous it looked, especially as most of the bar-goers were unarmed. Some looked rather concerned about the strange woman and her overly-large weapon, but most seemed simply curious and bordering on humour; clearly she had no idea how things were done in this place.

Not that it was Aria’s place to tell her; they may have been alike, but she wasn’t particularly one for getting involved in other people’s business, especially when those other people seemed to be a little bit older than her. She didn’t set much score by the ‘I am twenty seven, you are twenty, and therefore I know how you should live your life’ argument, but such things went both ways; she was unwilling to offer advice that was unasked for. If it became apparent that the other woman was going to get herself killed, then maybe she’d step in, but for the moment she was content to simply watch.

As she slipped into a seat and ordered herself something basic and local (the wine tasted like vinegar, so despite being unladylike she always ordered ale), nobody made a fuss. She had made a point to become familiar around the town in the hopes of shaking away the many unwanted looks that being a stranger came hand in hand with. She walked unarmed save for a pocket knife that was not designed for use in anger, despite possessing serviceable weapons that she was trained to use. There was no need to carry them in the town, and they were quite safe in her trunk.

And as for danger? Aria could feel the prickle of eyes on the back of her neck; danger would be taken care of by someone far better suited to fighting than she was.

A few minutes of quiet watching proved to Aria that, without a shadow of a doubt, that the woman was a foreigner, and from a long way out, too. If her colouration, dress-sense and accent hadn’t been enough to prove it, the way she displayed a complete lack of awareness to local custom would have tipped Aria off before long. It was shocking that someone that stuck out so badly was still alive, let along walking around with the veil of ignorance still very much in place; Aria quite happily entertained the idea that this woman was chronically stupid as well as unobservant.

She was a contradiction, to say the very least. Aria had learned that there were two distinct types of women in the settlement after quite a short amount of time, and the stranger fit neither mould. There was the well to do, fancy frock wearing ladies who tended to roam around the gardens in flocks, jabbering about this, that and the other. They were well up in fashion, knew all of the gossip and far more about general politics than anyone gave them true credit for, and tended to hang on the arms of the most attractive male they could find when they weren’t batting their eyelids at the most prolific fighter. Aria had little interest in them or their circles, but she respected the knowledge that was hidden by their vapid fluttering.

She had fit herself in with the other type of woman; the hard wearing, less effeminate worker class that gained less respect and less privilege from the patriarchal system in exchange for a greater degree of freedom and far less expectation. She wore riding leathers, soft jodhpurs or breeches rather than fancy frocks, and tended to spend her days in the fields or the stables like the others of her adopted class, and although she remained a fascination to many, she had gained a certain level of anonymity from becoming a part of the system.

Sadly, such a thing could not be said for the outstanding young woman who had chosen an inn as her resting place (foolishly, in Aria’s opinion). She appeared to be drinking tea, which Aria found faintly ridiculous given that every man (and the occasional woman that was present) had chosen something of an earthier, alcoholic nature, and her manner of dress was not at all suitable for a low-level travellers’ tavern. Needless to say, she was going to draw attention, especially seeing as the men-folk in such places had a lot of ideas when it came to the ladies.

Aria found most of them rather distasteful, and the comments occasionally levelled at her ranged from aggravating to downright rude, but she knew better now than to do something stupid. Once upon a time (not as long ago as Aria liked to think) she had made some rather serious mistakes when it came to people making sexually motivated comments in her direction, but she had learned very quickly that it was a terribly bad idea to take offence verbally.

...apparently the stranger hadn’t learned that particular lesson, and there was a tense few moments where Aria thought that she had made a near-fatal mistake. But then, to her utter shock, the two slighted men turned tail and vanished off out of the bar. Aria frowned; that was in no way normal behaviour, and she was beginning to smell a rat.

Aria drained her glass, tapping on the counter to get the bartender’s attention. “Can I have another, Stephan?” She slid more than enough in sliver across the bar, but not so much as to draw unwanted attention, knowing that the man would get her point. “Or maybe some tea?”

Her second question was met with a dry huff of laughter and a toothless smile as Stephan refreshed her mug with the same ale as before. “Well,” he rumbled, the edge of a smoker’s lung that was always present in his voice taking a moment to rattle unpleasantly; he coughed to clear it away. “I could always get you a nice green tea, if you fancied, lass. Somethin’ proper lady-like that them fancy types are drinkin’. Proper well to do, if you get my meaning, ay lassie; bit of ol’ horse manure under the nose lark.”

“A stranger?” Aria asked quietly, taking another long pull from her mug; she had found that drinking with the men was one of the best ways to turn their blatant, sexually-inclined disrespect into more manageable mocking. It certainly worked with the rougher bartending types. She received a nod in return, though she had expected that much. Judging her audience to be receptive, she asked the real question that she had in mind.

“And if that manure got spread around a little...” She left the sentence hanging, hoping that it would be filled with more than silence; sometimes she would get what she was looking for, other times she would get rebuffed. Apparently this time she was in luck.

“Someone might find ‘emself sleepin’ in it.” Stephan huffed out a wheezy laugh and left Aria to ponder that while he went off to answer the tapping of another patron.

The stranger was in trouble then. Aria ran a hand through her hair (cut short to mimic local fashion), and tried to work out what she wanted to do. It was possible that this stranger would get herself killed, or just get shown what for as Stephan predicted, but there was a niggling worry forming in the back of Aria’s mind. The stranger’s weapon, and the way in which she so blatantly carried it (the way that she had been ready to draw it), was a cause for concern; it was possible that it was all for show, but if it wasn’t... Aria shook her head, swung down from her stool, and approached the other woman.

There weren’t many strangers in town, and it wouldn’t do to let this one give Aria herself a bad name. “You’re awfully quick to start a fight, for someone who arrived less than a candlemark ago, if you don’t mind me saying,” she said, careful to keep her voice friendly and her posture unassuming; she didn’t want to get on the wrong end of that weapon while she was unarmed and (relatively) unprotected.