About damned time...
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Andralyn's hand went to the objects as if they were her own, shrugging on the cloak and wrapping up her hair, taking care to ensure each burgundy fly away was tucked safely away.
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She got up and walked after the miqo'te casually, adjusting the cloak around her as she cursed the rain under her breath.
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A wave of impending doom where ever that one walks...Â
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Her stride granted her little trouble catching the wake of Zhavi's path and she fought the urge to stop her dead in her tracks and demand answers immediately. Instead she remained quiet.Â
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Skulking around her home like some stranger scavenging to survive was an unfamiliar feeling. This town was hers; completely at home in the upper decks with the big spenders and barons, a welcome addition to any tavern or merchant’s stall and she was able to walk among the gutters with little trouble from the locals. A little coin and a smile could have gotten her just about anywhere. And now, the reputation that took years to build seemed to be crumbling around her so quickly that she couldn't pull the trail together to point in any semblance of a direction.
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She didn't like it. Her head never felt so heavy as she walked, doing her best to keep her gaze forward and not search the shadows for the next rat to lunge for her or to ensure that Jonathan was indeed keeping a careful eye on her path from a safe distance behind.
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A new game.
New rules.
Get it together,Thatcher.
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Andralyn's hand went to the objects as if they were her own, shrugging on the cloak and wrapping up her hair, taking care to ensure each burgundy fly away was tucked safely away.
Â
She got up and walked after the miqo'te casually, adjusting the cloak around her as she cursed the rain under her breath.
Â
A wave of impending doom where ever that one walks...Â
Â
Her stride granted her little trouble catching the wake of Zhavi's path and she fought the urge to stop her dead in her tracks and demand answers immediately. Instead she remained quiet.Â
Â
Skulking around her home like some stranger scavenging to survive was an unfamiliar feeling. This town was hers; completely at home in the upper decks with the big spenders and barons, a welcome addition to any tavern or merchant’s stall and she was able to walk among the gutters with little trouble from the locals. A little coin and a smile could have gotten her just about anywhere. And now, the reputation that took years to build seemed to be crumbling around her so quickly that she couldn't pull the trail together to point in any semblance of a direction.
Â
She didn't like it. Her head never felt so heavy as she walked, doing her best to keep her gaze forward and not search the shadows for the next rat to lunge for her or to ensure that Jonathan was indeed keeping a careful eye on her path from a safe distance behind.
Â
A new game.
New rules.
Get it together,Thatcher.
