As Nica fell, the momentum managed to unhook the snag in the tapestry, pulling the large weave of fabric off the rack; covering herself and a patch of ground around her. Covered in such soft, abundant warmth, she began to purr while crawling around beneath it.
The crowd that gathered began to ask a lot of questions:
Who was this Hyur man? Why was he on the ground? Had anyone else seen a Miqo'te a few moments ago? In the confusion and chaos of the crowd, Nica continued to crawl the length of the tapestry. A midlander looked down, surprised to see the weave bulging and shifting beneath him, and he lifted his foot, trying to let whatever was tunneling through pass by. He nearly tripped.
A couple of Lalafells offered to help Lodine up, while a female Seeker bent over to ask if he was alright. A member of the Brass Blades came around the corner, having heard the commotion while passing by on his night patrol. A few in the crowd instantly dispersed, but many stayed, thinking things could only get more interesting.
At this point, VIII would probably feel a small tug on his sleeve. Looking down would reveal a pale white hand clutching the fabric of his shirt. Somehow, the Keeper had gotten on the outisde of the crowd. If she could get any paler she'd be a ghost. Trembling, blood continued to soak her robe at her side.
"Nica needs to heal..."she whispered. "Can she?"
This man looked a bit like her True Master, and thereby the only familiar thing to hold onto in this sea of confusion.
The crowd that gathered began to ask a lot of questions:
Who was this Hyur man? Why was he on the ground? Had anyone else seen a Miqo'te a few moments ago? In the confusion and chaos of the crowd, Nica continued to crawl the length of the tapestry. A midlander looked down, surprised to see the weave bulging and shifting beneath him, and he lifted his foot, trying to let whatever was tunneling through pass by. He nearly tripped.
A couple of Lalafells offered to help Lodine up, while a female Seeker bent over to ask if he was alright. A member of the Brass Blades came around the corner, having heard the commotion while passing by on his night patrol. A few in the crowd instantly dispersed, but many stayed, thinking things could only get more interesting.
At this point, VIII would probably feel a small tug on his sleeve. Looking down would reveal a pale white hand clutching the fabric of his shirt. Somehow, the Keeper had gotten on the outisde of the crowd. If she could get any paler she'd be a ghost. Trembling, blood continued to soak her robe at her side.
"Nica needs to heal..."she whispered. "Can she?"
This man looked a bit like her True Master, and thereby the only familiar thing to hold onto in this sea of confusion.
