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[Demetria]

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The night was quiet; it seemed that even the dark city slumbered. Sleepy looking shopkeepers idled in their respective buildings, no citizens appeared to be out and about. Demetria rode along on her pony, crossbow at the ready should she encounter a troublesome situation. It was en route to the Western bridge leaving the city proper that she encountered Shalcross. Still, it seemed strange to hear herself address him as Warlord; the two had literally and figuratively grown up together. Though before the growth supplements she had been several years his senior, they were now for all intents and purposes similar in age and mental development. Part of her would always think of him as just "Shal".

The Warlord beckoned, and she went to him. His expression and voice were serious, and he informed her of some changes and expectations that were forthcoming. Deme listened intently to his directives, and nodded her agreement to all he said. It was emphasized that she should continue training, and training hard. Again, she agreed both out of respect and friendship; though Demetria did not fully understand all the recent changes within the city, she considered herself a true Umbran and would do her best to defend her and her people, as well as maintain the city's ideals. Umbra was, after all, a city unlike no other.

Umbra was her home. She was able to be who and what she was, without remorse or apology. If outsiders did not like it, well, she thought...they could stay away or deal with the inhabitants who did enjoy what was offered here.

When dismissed by Shalcross, Demetria turned to the direction of the Banshee, the place that was for all intents and purposes her residence. One thought echoed through her mind the entire time, even as she crossed the threshold into her room and climbed into the bed where she would rest and think.

She was glad that she was still wanted here, and not cut loose.