devil in the details || celebration ; open
Pushing her way past another contingent of rowdy dwarves, the northern girl slipped in past the throngs of people, and was finally -- mostly -- alone in the destitute hall.
Held together with stitches and her body a repertoire of bruises, she was tired, grouchy, and not in the mood to deal with people, much less put effort into speaking to them in Westron. It was easy to avoid detection in the vast entrance hall, however, and she waited quietly with her back to some cool stone until she was alone. Nobody was interested in the ruins of the dwarven kingdom when there was a raucous party going on outside the gates, and that was just fine with her. Moving quickly, she crossed the hall, and ascended a set of stairs at a pronounced limp.
Safely around a corner, where not even a stray visitor would see her, she huffed, and slipped her arm out of the sling it occupied, working the stiff limb carefully. There was a gash running from shoulder to above her elbow that had needed a long, neat row of stitches to seal up, and though the wound was now close to two weeks old, she still hurt badly.
She had also not slept properly without the aid of strong herbs.
There would never be rest after that battle, the vastness of which still put her into silent, horrified contemplation. She had never experienced anything like it, and it had shocked her into...something close to catatonic. Knowing she needed a distraction from the noise and clamor of the huge celebration occurring, she had fled into the cool granite halls, and the silence of being in such a massive place was comforting.
Resuming her leisurely limp, Kiasax made her silent way through the high, stone hallway, keeping carefully to one side lest she run into someone. And yet, who was she going to run into in this place?
