He was supposed to be patrolling the streets, just as any normal, law-abiding highblood would. While he did have a job of his own he was still bound to some civic duties, such as watching out for any unscrupulous characters that tried to find their way into Derse's civilian centers and then somehow manage to hurt the poor, poor innocents who were just trying to live their lives to the fullest! Nowadays these unscrupulous chadacters were far more likely to be lowbloods that were trying to enter the higher districts without any official excuse to do so. Not that containing the proletariat was *legal*, but it happened anyway and, if anything, the highbloods enjoyed it.

Amatus was a bit different from the other highbloods (only a bit). During the morning he had gone on the route, bringing with him one of the only good romance novels around. Unfortunately, it was written by a human and as a result only contained the red quadrant. Not a bad thing, but he really did need a more diverse selection of relationships. Fortunately, the little it did contain was rather well-written, and he could even disregard the fact that the beings kissing each other in Chapter 14 were hornless freaks. It would keep him from getting too bored during his watch; people finally had it rammed into their heads that there would be consequences if they stepped out of line, and as a result there were far less people to apprehend.

Thus the morning was spent doing absolutely nothing but getting nervous side glances from passerbys. However, as noon approached he decided that he had enough of that silly human book he was reading. He tucked it into his left blazer pocket and instead observed the growing crowd of streetgoers. Sadly most of them were rather dreary, being carapaces or just extremely plain trolls. Given Derse's attire it was difficult to tell exactly which ones were slum material or the occasional nobility, but that didn't matter right now. All that mattered was The Look.

The Look told him much more than his object of interest might ever. A scar on the face? If an older troll then they're likely a veteran. If the hair was long and unkempt, it teetered the boundary between being attractively wild or painfully neglectful; if short and cropped, it usually signalled order in some form. Decoration of outfit showed class, and its upkeep either showed wealth or dangerous living, like the difference between patchs randomly stitched on or the ragged ends of sleeves or skirts. It was so much more than just the style, too. The real mark was just in their bodies. Someone that looked like a complete wreck could be turned into a noble figure just by straight posture and alert eyes. There were always princes in paupers, and sometimes paupers in princes.

And while keeping a sharp eye on the street he just so happened to spy one of these royals in rags. He almost missed the girl, but in retrospect, how could he? Her long, bushy hair and ram horns, and that ragged skirt...she looked just like some sort of mountaineer, though the most she could climb on this purple rock was maybe one of the royal towers, and such a thing would get anyone executed. She seemed to walk with confidence, and her eyes had that lively spark to them thar just made him feel all tingly inside. Amatus Esteli decided to leave his job for a far more important pursuit. After all, the opporunity to fill a quadrant was not one he was keen to pass up.

If Aradia had not noticed the highblood loitering by the side of the road, she probably would notice him now, even though he was still keeping a good distance away from her. In his mind he was doing more of scientific observation than stalking, but that didn't mean others saw the situation like him.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Aradia's heels clicked a staccato beat across the cobblestones as she walked briskly along the path. The sound was comforting to her. It moved along, rhythmic and steady, just as things were meant to be. Today her task wasn't especially important - just picking up a few scraps and supplies, but then again everything was important in the grand scheme of things. But! It was enough to have a purpose, simple and straightforward though it might be. Others might scoff at the idea of carrying out such menial tasks, but what had to be done, had to be done, and someone had to do it. There was no reason it shouldn't be her.

She had also found that, through her experience on the streets, you were less likely to be interrupted if you looked like you knew what you were doing. The worst thing you could do was skulk around looking unsure of yourself. That made for an obvious target, especially for bottom of the spectrum trolls like her. Any sort of outward insecurity drew the predatorial highbloods like insects to a light. You had to be calm and assured and carry out your business as quickly as possible, then head right home afterwards.

She passed one now, doing her best to seem as unobtrusive and occupied as possible. Even so, although she was forcing her footsteps to follow the clipped pace she had set and consciously breathing through her nose, she felt the back of her neck tingle and the palms of her hands break out in a cold sweat. She didn't even turn her head to check whether or not she had been noticed. Eyes straight forward. Arms swinging at her sides, but not too much movement. Breathing in and breathing out.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

She was now at least fifty paces ahead. With a small sigh, she relaxed her tensed shoulders and gave into the urge to take a tiny peep backwards by tilting her head slightly, as if to glance up at the buildings surrounding her, and sneaking a look through her thick hair.

She cursed.

He was following her.
Why? Why would he follow her? Looking for trouble, she could bet easily. A grim expression settled over her features. She hadn't yet picked up the supplies, so she was safe if he checked, but she very well couldn't carry out her task now. Neither could she return to the headquarters. She doubted she could outrun him, or outpower him, if she didn't use her psychic abilities in the open for all to see. There was only one solution - shaking him off somehow. She picked up speed, hoping he would lose interest before another highblood latched on. There were plenty of other lowbloods to bother. She didn't have time for this.

Ticktockticktockticktock.

[OOC: Amatus :c I am so sorry for how late this reply is. School was absolutely brutal last week, I hope you can forgive me and I hope this is okay :c]