She watches the powder dissolve into the black tea, then stirs in a splash of milk to cut the bitterness. Behind her, her guest is laying her wares out across her kitchen table like a proud child waiting to show off what she's found to a less-than-eager parent. But Hrafna still smiles at her as she takes her seat opposite and sets their cups down with a dull clink. Her own is hot enough that the poisons added are denaturing as they speak, but the milk in her guest's has cooled hers just so.
"So, you see," Afthas says, splaying a hand out across the finely crafted pendants. "The chains are made with the finest gold. I believe I was told the gold was mined far in the west, where it's rarest. It's been a while since I got these — they're so beautiful, I thought, that I was reluctant to sell them on."
"Ah," Hrafna hums, reaching out to lift one of the pendants and hold it to the light. It is beautiful; the chain is fine in her hand and the gem sparkles a beautiful, rich red. "They are quite beautiful, I have to say."
The blonde grins and she reaches for her cup, which she holds between her hands. "I only stock the finest. I'm quite picky, admittedly."
"Well, it is good to be picky, no? It thins out the poor quality."
"I can tell, you have good sense! So — I admit to you, I did come here with the intention of selling. I so appreciate you inviting me in, with that in mind, and of course I understand if you're not interested. They're all ten gold pieces each — which sounds steep, I know, but the gold over in the west... you'd pay twice as much if you went looking in Korval." She leans back in her chair and gestures for Hrafnhildur to pick the pendant up again, which she does. "I'm sure you can feel the quality. But, if silver is more your thing, those are a fair bit cheaper. Gold looks beautiful on you, though. I see your earrings."
Hrafna holds the ruby pendant up to the light again and she inspects it with her cheek lazily supported in one hand. Then, with the pendant still held to the light, she smiles at Afthas.
The cup in her hands, with not a sip taken from it, is set back on the table. Afthas tips her chin up slightly and they hold their gaze for a moment, each with a knowing smile.
And then they begin to laugh.
Only once their laughter begins to ebb off again does Afthas lean forwards, elbows folded against the edge of the table, and she tosses her head in the direction of some far door with a mischievous grin. "So. Bedroom?"
Hrafnhildur smirks at her, and she rises to her feet. Afthas eagerly takes her hand and she's led out of the kitchen and further into the house. Hrafna can feel her smiling at the back of her head.
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