Just near the grand entry hall of the Citadel fortress itself, this series of narrow hallways and square, severe, windowless rooms, where once the Purple Guard roamed, now houses the Imperial Guard. Flanking the entrance to the fortress, they're positioned such that the defenders might quickly reach vital areas of the building quickly, including the entry hall, the Council Rooms, and the chambers of the Caesar himself.
One of the larger cells to the left of the entrance houses the Offices themselves, a series of low, spartan, windowless chambers decorated with simple, sturdy furniture and thick, tough rugs. Very few decorations marked the walls of these almost severe chambers, though numerous weapons were displayed alongside banners, pieces of archaic armour, and tapestries of some obscure historical event or another. It was from these offices that the Citadel's fighting force was organized, coordinated, and sortied on various tasks within and beyond the fortress itself.
Within the chambers, the sounds of activity could be heard at all marks of the day as guardsmen either returned from, prepared for, or went about their duties, the sounds of clashing armour and the smells of resin, oil, and sweat thick in the air.
Zenith walked along the cobblestoned streets, watching the edges of the fortress. Large cobblestoned walls, and cobblestoned streets with sporatic patches of greenery seemed to be the call of the day. People of every race and creed (although, they appeared predominantly human) swarmed the streets. Voices filling her ears, and excitement budding in her chest. Shouts filled her ears and a small smirk crossed her hawklike features, as she walked in front of an exercise yard. Surveying the targets and buildings that she hoped would house her for the next few years of her life.
She reached behind her to shift her quiver of arrows, touching her raven hair as she did so. She looked like she usually did, her waist length hair plaited down her back and tied simply at the bottom with a thong of worn black leather. A few wisps of black hair that had broken off framed her high cheekbones, and her bright eyes suddenly appeared a few shades paler in her excitement. Her excessively thin waist was hidden by a plain but crisp white cotton shirt, it was loose and every breath of wind made it flutter suggestively against the hint of her breasts and the curve of her waist. Her black leather pants hugged tightly against her athletic legs and making soft noises of friction with her every pace. And as she brushed away a loose piece of hair from her porcelain skin, the bracer on her wrist moved to reveal a small silver thread and the hint of a daggers hilt. Her thick lashes - the only beautiful thing she found in her features - brushed against her cheeks as she swept her eyes from one end to the other.... Preparing for the interaction she was certain would ensue, the biggest question to her; would it be in her favor?
She had gotten an early start on the day, because a part of her anticipated spending hours waiting for someone to pay attention to her. She was nervous, she felt somewhat threatened by the overwhelming percentages of men but she wouldnt let it get her down. Shifting the wolven, her solid wood long bow interlaced with silver threads that had been created for her by her father she prepared to move forward towards the main stand. She didnt know what to expect, and she certainly had no idea if they would be inspecting her equipment or not.
Turning a sharp right into the practice grounds she looked around for an authority figure, her eyes darting around and taking in the surroundings. She nibbled slightly on her lower lip before pulling her shoulders back and walking a few more paces deeper, her light blue eyes taking in every person she could - waiting for someone to make eye contact with her.