[OnyxCougar]

Well, the purpose of the piece isn't to flesh out the character, but to work on my descriptions and setting. I've written other things that I've been told were lacking in those, so this was purposefully vague on depth.

Let me see if I can find something else....

How about this:
Tabitha woke before sunrise, when the horizon could just be differentiated from the black sky overhead. She shivered under her blanket. Press had not banked the fire. She cringed as her bare feet touched the cold, gray stones, then leaned down to find her stockings.

Once she got the fire going again, she went to the window and pulled the red velvet curtain to the side, wincing as sunlight burst in her vision. A thin layer of ground fog lay upon the city. There were few people out this early. A fat merchant walked down the cobblestone road, his girth making him waddle awkwardly as he wheezed to his shop. The baker pushed his cart behind the milkman down a side street and a disheveled woman opened her door as the tinkling little bells of the carts approached in the otherwise hushed silence of dawn.

Two knocks preceded Prescott into the small room. He carried an old wooden box before him. Tabitha turned from the window and let the heavy fabric obscure the morning sun.

“Good Morning, Lady,” he smiled, setting the box at her feet.

“Morning, Pres.” She turned back to the waking city and the morning air washed over her again, raising goose bumps on her arms. “You let the fire go out.” A beggar was taking position in front of the church doors below.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be that cold last night.” He ran long fingers through a wave of shaggy brown hair, pulling it back from his face. He looked at his companion closely. The set of her shoulders and one hand on her hip meant she was seriously considering something. His sighed quietly and lit the oil lamps on either side of the room. She’d discuss it with him when she was ready, and not a moment before.

A knock at the door of her suite drew him into the living area and a plainly garbed initiate brought in a tray of fruits, bread, freshly churned butter, cheese and a pitch of mulled wine. The ivory robed man bowed deeply to Prescott, and the Knight nodded in return, closing the door behind the young man. As he prepared the table, he heard Tabitha dressing in the other room and wondered where they were going this time.

She emerged from the small bedchamber in her informal robes the knights wore while at the Temple. It was white with silver trim at the neckline, floor length hem and long sleeves. A silver sash adorned her slender waist, marking her as a Revered Knight of the Silver Chalice. She looked over the table with a critical eye.

“Looks good,” she approved, sitting down at the small table.

“Fresh butter,” he remarked. Sitting across from her, he poured warm wine into her glass. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

Tabitha paused her buttering of a hunk of bread and looked at him thoughtfully as he filled his own goblet and brought it to his lips. “How do you feel about taking a trip?”

He hid his smile behind the silver cup and tried to look like he was considering it. “Where do you plan on going?”

She abruptly resumed buttering her bread, avoiding his eyes, “Ral Kotek.”

He set his goblet down with a loud thunk and looked at her with his chin in his hand. Sighing, she rose from the table, setting her bread on her plate. He stood as she did, and watched her walk to the window.

“You know why, Pres,” she sighed, “I have to know.”

He nodded unseen behind her, looking down at the table. “You can’t send a message?” he asked, knowing the answer. She turned to look at him and tilted her head in reply. He nodded again at the table and sighed heavily. “Will the Keeper let you go?”

A faint sad smile crossed her face. “Of course.”

Prescott indicated her chair, and she returned her to seat. As he tucked her in, he wondered aloud, “When do we leave?”

Taking the bread from her plate, she brought it to her mouth. “Tomorrow, Keeper willing.” His eyes widened and she bit into her bread, smiling.

“Tomorrow! I’ll need to go into the village and get a —“ he began. She smiled. “Yes, yes. You have leave to take a pouch or two with you and buy the needed supplies. I’ll meet you back here for supper.”

He bowed deeply to her, “By your leave, Lady.” She inclined her head, smiling at him, and watched her protégé leave the suite quickly, ticking things off on his fingers and muttering to himself before he was even out the door.