The young Hyur woman who entered a few minutes behind Aegon looked like she had just come from the smithy, or the road - and either would have been relatively accurate. Her short cropped and unevenly cut hair was pulled back with a band and she wore weathered tunic and trousers which both looked like they'd seen more sand and dust than sea and salt. The pack she had slung over her shoulder was equally weathered and her hands were dry and calloused, with dirt caked under her fingernails. Her angular face might have been pretty, but as she reached up to wipe her flushed face with a cloth, she left a smudge of soot on her cheek. There were no illusions that this was a working woman who cared little about her own appearance. With a sigh, she dropped down onto a stool several seats down from the others at the bar, letting her pack drop to her feet with a thump. She didn't seem in a hurry to order, but was relieved to simply take a load off after a hard day.
