Among all the hustle and bustle of Ul'dah's market place, the busy people coming and going about their business, those with some more time on their hands stopping to chat, and all the ecclectic wares the merchants peddaled, a sole figure stood out, a blinding vision of light under the desert among the the array of vibrant colors and brown stones. Nearly all white, from head to toe. A young Midlander woman, notably tall for one of her kind, with hair the color of snow falling to her mid-back in soft, straight strands. The faint platinum highlights when the light hit her hair just right were all that could lead someone to describe the color as blonde. Her skin was also remarkably fair, and likely the pale complexion would not hold up well under the harsh sun of Thanalan for long. Icy blue eyes skimmed over the bolts of fabric at the merchant before her, searching. Her close-fitting top and skirt were nearly the same shade as her irises, a powder blue, the blouse accented in the same cream color as her thigh-stockings.
No shortage of jewelry adorned the woman, metal and gems glistening in the light, and the merchant behind the stall where she browsed had a wide grin, no doubt hoping he could gain a large profit from this costumer who seemed to have no lack of gil. The Hyur paid no mind to him, however, or really anything or anyone around her, for that matter, silent and focused at the task at hand: picking out a fabric, of course. Her demeanor was not necessarily a careless one, but rather one of confidence. Why should she be concerned with anyone else? What did she have to fear? She reached one ivory hand forward toward a piece of dusty pink fabric, slender fingers caressing over the silky cloth as she studied it intently. She had to find something perfect. She would settle for nothing less, she decided.
No shortage of jewelry adorned the woman, metal and gems glistening in the light, and the merchant behind the stall where she browsed had a wide grin, no doubt hoping he could gain a large profit from this costumer who seemed to have no lack of gil. The Hyur paid no mind to him, however, or really anything or anyone around her, for that matter, silent and focused at the task at hand: picking out a fabric, of course. Her demeanor was not necessarily a careless one, but rather one of confidence. Why should she be concerned with anyone else? What did she have to fear? She reached one ivory hand forward toward a piece of dusty pink fabric, slender fingers caressing over the silky cloth as she studied it intently. She had to find something perfect. She would settle for nothing less, she decided.
![[Image: NCtCate.png]](http://i.imgur.com/NCtCate.png)
