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Joan "Maletears" Sandwalker - backstory

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Some story about one of my character. Sorry for the likely grammatical mistakes... I'm french and not used to write in english directly.



The bell rings as she enters the shop. The old man rises his eyes from the scroll he's studying. He gives her a surprised look.
- Ah... An unfamiliar face. Good day to you, young lady. What can I do for you ?"
She closes the distance slowly. She wears some kind of long brown robe, worn out by the kilometers ; her skin is dark, way darker than most humans. Apart from that, she's just average. Black hair curling on her neck, brown eyes, no makeup or paintings. A glimpse of a tatoo here or there, maybe, underneath the cloth. She looks tired. Mostly, she looks like someone used to be tired. She smiles, though, as if it was a nice conversation. 
- My pleasure. I just arrived in Stormwind. I'm not really used to the city I'm afraid." She laughs gently. "I need black ink. Standard. And scrolls. And notebooks - can I see your notebooks ?
- But of course ! Please follow me." He crosses the counter and lead her to another room. "Here. There's everything you need." He stares at her with genuine interest. "If you're looking for imbued or magical products, I'm afraid I have none of the sorts."
She looks at him, amused. 
- Do I look like a mage to you ?
- Mmmm..." He smiles. "No, I suppose not. Are you a scribe ?
- I guess. More like a writer, perhaps. Poetry and novels, mostly.
- Ooooh. A poet then ! Marvelous. You sure gives off a poet vibe." He laughs. "Surrounded by a shroud of dark mystery... Spirits and muses whispering to your ear... He he... Well, tell me if you need anything, I'll be right there."

"Am I your muse, Joan ?" whispers a seductive voice, mockingly, on the woman's neck, just after the old man left the room.
Joan sighs heavily.
"Can't you stay calm and silent for more than three minutes, Sart ?
- Heeeeh. I didn't eat the guy. He was looking at you with such perverted eyes though... The desire was strong. I'm sure he would have tasted like... Mmm... Rotten flesh and old semen...
- Erk." Joan grunts with disgust "Keep those thoughts to you."
The voices snickers. 
"Sorry. I know you prefer them younger and... Well... With more curves here and there. A bit like me maybe ?
- Nah. You're too direct and slutty."
Sarthea laughs. Her face, then her body seems to appears out of the shadow of Joan, as if slowly discovered. She's a tall, feminine woman, with pale skin, black wings and horns. She moves her arms along Joan's back, then hugs her sensually. 
"Well, that's what I like about you. You're so much like me.
- I'm nothing like you." Joan reacts angrily, trying to detach herself. Sarthea laughs and disappears again. 

"Did you find what your were looking for ?"
Joan smiles politely and drops a few products on the counter. 
"Quite, yes. I like your shop. Here's your gold. I'll come back when I'm, well, out of ink again.
- Feel free to do so, young lady. Feel free to do so."
She packs the products in her sack and reach the doorway. The old man coughs politely.
"Oh before you leave... Can I ask you something ?
- Yes ?" She looks back at him, surprised.
"Your pretty friend... Why does she have no binds ? Is she following you out of her free will ?"
Joan stares at him in silence. Then she replies, codly.
"She's no friend of mine."
The old man stays silent for a few seconds.
"Oh. I see. I thought you were some kind of... warlock, perhaps."
She shrugs her shoulders.
"I guess I'm more like a haunted house."
He smiles.
"Well, that's all I wanted to know. Have a nice day, young lady."
She turns her back to him and closes the door without a word.

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