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Hawker's Alley, Limsa Lominsa;
A cry of shock and pain issued out of a youth's throat, swallowed and unheard by the din of Hawker's Alley just a few steps away. The light clink of a guildleve sounds against the cobblestone of the small side alley. Cold metal slides quietly across the mouth of a waiting sheath before the tall, femine form stoops to retrieve the happy-colored card. As the patron saint flashes its guileless smile skyward tanned lips carved their own more appreciative, yet conservative grin.
As the youth falls from his own stoop upon his side to rock back and forth in a comforting fashion emerald eyes fix upon him. Heartless and cold. Flinching away from the starring of those two eyes the youth curled into a half-formed ball; only to fall haltingly out of it.
"You ...have it now. . . go away!" the youth issued through pitful sobs and gasps.
Relentless emerald stare kept hold of the youth a long moment. He was early to manhood but not that young. The beginnings of a beard shaded the youth's jaw. Yet here he lied as if he was much younger. Sun-stained lips finding a faint sneer the woman shook her head releasing in a cool sigh,"Be thankful, Hyurian. I broke a rib at best. Had you agreed to my terms you would have earned your own leve."
Leaving the youth to stare after her the emerald eyed woman turned as if to make for the crowds of Hawker's Alley. A forced breath was taken in to the woman's throat as she sat, hesitant, between the quiet of the side alley and the cacophony without. A pair of leathern fingers rise to massage just below an ear. It had been awhile since she had to deal with so great a level of sound. The gasp of winds and the rustle of leaves had been her companions upon the road for some time now. She figured with a soft snort to her own thoughts the other races had it so much easier…
Securing lavender cloth above mouth and nose in a light mask she then gathered the hem of worn, brown-clothed hood. Raising it she stepped out into the hustle and bustle of the Alley.
The Drowning Wench
Pushing the door open with a gentle creek the woman of emerald eyes stepped into the tavern. Casting a slow, passing glance about the place she turned her boots toward the bar. Tapping the counter with a closed fist she lowered her hood her pointed Elezen ears rising slightly; appreciative of the relative quiet within. As the tavernkeep shuffled before her, she simply nodded to a bottle and murmured,â€ÂA glass if you would.â€Â
A cry of shock and pain issued out of a youth's throat, swallowed and unheard by the din of Hawker's Alley just a few steps away. The light clink of a guildleve sounds against the cobblestone of the small side alley. Cold metal slides quietly across the mouth of a waiting sheath before the tall, femine form stoops to retrieve the happy-colored card. As the patron saint flashes its guileless smile skyward tanned lips carved their own more appreciative, yet conservative grin.
As the youth falls from his own stoop upon his side to rock back and forth in a comforting fashion emerald eyes fix upon him. Heartless and cold. Flinching away from the starring of those two eyes the youth curled into a half-formed ball; only to fall haltingly out of it.
"You ...have it now. . . go away!" the youth issued through pitful sobs and gasps.
Relentless emerald stare kept hold of the youth a long moment. He was early to manhood but not that young. The beginnings of a beard shaded the youth's jaw. Yet here he lied as if he was much younger. Sun-stained lips finding a faint sneer the woman shook her head releasing in a cool sigh,"Be thankful, Hyurian. I broke a rib at best. Had you agreed to my terms you would have earned your own leve."
Leaving the youth to stare after her the emerald eyed woman turned as if to make for the crowds of Hawker's Alley. A forced breath was taken in to the woman's throat as she sat, hesitant, between the quiet of the side alley and the cacophony without. A pair of leathern fingers rise to massage just below an ear. It had been awhile since she had to deal with so great a level of sound. The gasp of winds and the rustle of leaves had been her companions upon the road for some time now. She figured with a soft snort to her own thoughts the other races had it so much easier…
Securing lavender cloth above mouth and nose in a light mask she then gathered the hem of worn, brown-clothed hood. Raising it she stepped out into the hustle and bustle of the Alley.
The Drowning Wench
Pushing the door open with a gentle creek the woman of emerald eyes stepped into the tavern. Casting a slow, passing glance about the place she turned her boots toward the bar. Tapping the counter with a closed fist she lowered her hood her pointed Elezen ears rising slightly; appreciative of the relative quiet within. As the tavernkeep shuffled before her, she simply nodded to a bottle and murmured,â€ÂA glass if you would.â€Â
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