The leather woven to Steel's gauntlet plates squeaked as her fist uncurled with some effort. She was seconds away from walking forth and offering her considerable size to the situation. However, she hadn't counted on the soothsayer's cleverness and an incredibly electric miqo'te breaking up the moment. Her mind had thought to aid the woman in whatever trouble she felt could only be answered by an uppercut and a foot race, but then her own weariness reminded her of what she had come to the Quicksand for in the first place.
The spectacle of the events faded away with the fog of resuming patron chatter and the packing up of the mage's crystals. Looks like the line of patrons were done with, as the woman and her curious Carbuncle retired to speak with another scholasticate.
"Time for a drink!" she announced to herself, reminding what she was standing about for as she walked towards the bar. She signaled the tender, nodding towards a bottle of rum that sat on the rear counter. She sighed as she settled down in to the barstool, the baldric holding her weapon rattling against her plate. She looked around a moment before spotting someone to her left which caused her golden eyes to widen.
Ser Castille...!
Her head swiftly snapped forward before slowly turning to look again for confirmation. Yep. That was indeed him, a man whom she had idolized when she first took up sword for the realm. He was right there. Within groping distance....
No. No, you don't grope your heroes. Bad form, Sthal.
She slowly spun in her seat, offering him a bright smile and a courteous bow. "Ser Warren. It is an honor to share a seat with you."
The spectacle of the events faded away with the fog of resuming patron chatter and the packing up of the mage's crystals. Looks like the line of patrons were done with, as the woman and her curious Carbuncle retired to speak with another scholasticate.
"Time for a drink!" she announced to herself, reminding what she was standing about for as she walked towards the bar. She signaled the tender, nodding towards a bottle of rum that sat on the rear counter. She sighed as she settled down in to the barstool, the baldric holding her weapon rattling against her plate. She looked around a moment before spotting someone to her left which caused her golden eyes to widen.
Ser Castille...!
Her head swiftly snapped forward before slowly turning to look again for confirmation. Yep. That was indeed him, a man whom she had idolized when she first took up sword for the realm. He was right there. Within groping distance....
No. No, you don't grope your heroes. Bad form, Sthal.
She slowly spun in her seat, offering him a bright smile and a courteous bow. "Ser Warren. It is an honor to share a seat with you."
