[ She hears another's approach, her ears catching the soft set of his feet, or the rustle of his armor. Light-footed, as she had only noticed him when he was within a distance that could be breached by a sweep of a greatsword and she nearly scowls as her awareness still dips and wavers.] And what look would that be?
[ But she studies him, a quick sort of thing, lines of his armor, his face (those markings) traced by sharp, curious eyes that are neither kind nor cruel. More deciding whether he was an immediate threat, rather than passing judgement. She had seen many mer before, though none such as him. But her curiosity on the matter of him would have to wait as she notes the offered flute of the light liquid, little bubbles dancing and dazzling and the first thing she thinks is that she's never seen a drink like that before.
She takes the glass with the slightest of nods, if only for some semblance of manners. Or because it gives something for her to do. ] This would be from their feast? Celebrating their newly acquired precious commodities. [ The last is nearly spat out, as though the insult still burns hot against her flesh. No feast or drink would soften the blow her pride had felt. She already had a purpose; they did not need to assign her another. ]
fenris!
[ But she studies him, a quick sort of thing, lines of his armor, his face (those markings) traced by sharp, curious eyes that are neither kind nor cruel. More deciding whether he was an immediate threat, rather than passing judgement. She had seen many mer before, though none such as him. But her curiosity on the matter of him would have to wait as she notes the offered flute of the light liquid, little bubbles dancing and dazzling and the first thing she thinks is that she's never seen a drink like that before.
She takes the glass with the slightest of nods, if only for some semblance of manners. Or because it gives something for her to do. ] This would be from their feast? Celebrating their newly acquired precious commodities. [ The last is nearly spat out, as though the insult still burns hot against her flesh. No feast or drink would soften the blow her pride had felt. She already had a purpose; they did not need to assign her another. ]