Face’ll Freeze that Way
Zhavorr is just staring and staring and staring at the other woman. She'd never seen another Dwarva with paler hair than hers before. She also had pale skin, though Zhavorr seemed to have her beat in terms of just how pale. It was, honestly exciting. Though this woman did seem prettier than her. Interesting. She had an ale in hand but hadn't touched it, still drinking in the details.
@fadetouchedcadash
Standard night. The music was loud, the singers were half drunk. The hearth-fire cast red dreamed shadows across hay strewn floorboards. Occasionally, she joined in with raising a tankard or two, but mostly she was sitting, minding her business, slurping off giant heads of foamy goodness from a bitter, almost black ale. Tankard up. Tankard down. Nod here and there. Tankard up. Tankard-- After probably twenty minutes, it paused and stalled on the last up-lift. Her shoulders bunched the slightest bit then rolled; akin to a bear with a scratch she couldn’t quite reach. Her head swivelled around slowly, as owlish as her eyes. They settled finally on the ogler. “Now, see, tha’ isn’t fair--” She said to the other dwarva, lifting a finger to point directly at. “I got way more reason t’ stare--” Anthy brought her free hand up to her own face and then made circle-circle-circles as an indication to the other woman’s ink. “--an’ I swore I’d be good an’ didn’t. An’ I didn’t. But you get t’ stare. Jus’ no fair t’all.”
