✍: What is your muse’s handwriting like? for Ani! (I know he's not in there, but nyeh, I'm picking him anyway. xD Annnnnd ♒: How often does your muse bath? for Mia... and ☁: What is your muse’s ideal weather? for Lei!
The note to Ela’s father was neatly formed; Anisai took extra care to ensure it was legible. His normal handwriting was a looping scrawl, and he wanted to ensure that if the man didn’t answer, it wasn’t because he couldn’t read it.
As soon as Ilithian settled into work, Mia began exploring his new place. They had been up late in the night talking, and revealing her experiences had stirred up a lot of feelings she had thought long buried.
When she discovered the spacious bath... she let out an exclamation of delight. She’d not wanted to use the public baths; her scars were distinctive, and she was trying to lay low. But this...! This. Was a tub for a king. Or a Queen.
Hours later, Ili found her examining her wrinkled fingers with evident delight, the water having been refreshed. Not having his notepad, the little mute could only shake his head and laugh. The floor was wet, and Mia looked like a mermaid from the tales, her hair a heavy wet mass clinging to everything. She grinned and squirted water expertly with her hands, splashing him.
(I honestly have no idea what his bathroom is like, but the answer is... Mia is terribly fastidious; she bathes daily, even when on board the ship.)
Ymelei peered out the window, frost creeping across the glass. The wind scoured the stones of Frostwall bare, although snow was piled high against the buildings in drifts that stood above her head.
Behind her, the bed creaked as Rhoten rolled over, tugging the thick woolen blanket up over his shoulders. A fire crackled in the hearth, dispelling some of the chill, and Lei shivered, the air pleasantly cool.
She loved days like this, and she padded across the room in bare feet, picking up a thick, leather-bound book with a plain cover. Sliding into bed, she tucked her chilled toes against Rhoten’s calves to warm them, wedging pillows behind her back and cradling the book in her lap. A perfect day to sink into the latest drama she had filched from the trading post.
An hour later, lulled by Rho’s peaceful breathing, she was lost in an epic tale of dragons and mages, a cup of hot cocoa forgotten at her elbow.
