That's vile. [ It should be a more discrete whisper, but it isn't. Muttered under her breath as she steps over the bloodied streets of Tibras, the sound still carries. Her attire blends in just fine, makes her blend in with the servant girls she's seen walking in the atriums of some of the wealthier houses of Ephes, all simple tunic and a palla that is the very definition of functional and durable. In fact, with it covering her hair and with her hand holding the fabric up to cover her nose from the stench, she is virtually undistinguishable.
Except, of course, for the glint of a talisman, and the peak of a few rebel curls for anyone who'd be asking. There are some places where peanut sellers don't need to go, and the Merchants' guild is one of them. Yet, here she is, on her own (for now, heyyyy), daintly hopping over a cobblestone that looks precarious and looking for warehouses. ]
1. wealth whispers: what's a place like this doing in a girl like you?
Except, of course, for the glint of a talisman, and the peak of a few rebel curls for anyone who'd be asking. There are some places where peanut sellers don't need to go, and the Merchants' guild is one of them. Yet, here she is, on her own (for now, heyyyy), daintly hopping over a cobblestone that looks precarious and looking for warehouses. ]