only one way up

She had seen many things in her many years in these lands, but this was a first. A spiraling, ever-growing tower, reaching high into the sky and continuing to build itself higher. The small jeweled circlet she wore no doubt reflected light from the shining sun into whoever may be up on those highest levels. It had to be built by hand, right? She had seen much in her five hundred years but she had never seen a self-building tower. 

She felt for her magic, trying to see how much time she had left before she had to find a new host. It wasn't much- perhaps an hour, two at most. She had traveled far to watch the mages fight against the beast, knowing that she could offer nothing but still wanting to be present. Her silken dress flowed loosely around her, traveling down to mid-calf, the silk sheer enough to showcase her body and yet opaque enough to be decent, the sky blue contrasting her tanned skin nicely. Breeches, made of lovely, soft linen, protected her legs from the saddle's rubbing. Her boots were made of the finest leather; tough enough for travel, and yet refined enough to be pretty and elegant. Dismounting her horse, a lovely buckskin mare, she tied the reins to a tree surrounded by plenty of fresh grass. 

She needed to get closer, to see this thing for herself. 

Pulling out a leather tie, she worked her long, wavy hair into a braid, although there were plenty of pieces sticking out. Perhaps she could call it a messy braid- it seemed to be the rage these days to put little effort into looks and call it "messy," as if mess was something to be aspired to. Personally, she hated it- but she needed to move quickly, to discover a new host before her time ran out. Finishing with her long, long braid, she threw it over a perfectly sculpted shoulder, and readied herself for her inevitable form change. But first, she had to see this tower. She had enough time, perhaps, for a quick look around, before she needed to latch her magic onto one of the patrolling Witchfinders and find someplace to rest close by. 

Creeping forward, her sharp brown eyes missing nothing, she peered out at the people around the entrance. Many a person was there, a few arguing, a few patrolling, a few with scrolls of paper and quills to document findings. There were so many- too many. She wouldn't be able to sneak in in these conditions. 

A snapping of a stick caught her attention, and she whirled around. A man was close by, a rugged-looking figure. He, too, appeared to be looking for a way into the tower, and the situation, to Nym, was Grace-blessed. She needed a way in and a host. He needed a way into the tower, and would probably want a partner to view the tower with him.

It was perfect- and yet she could not take the steps forward to introduce herself.