Petrichor
Eye of the Storm
- Joined
- Mar 21, 2011
- Messages
- 4,109
- Reaction score
- 258
A tall woman walks through the door. Her long, curly brown hair obscures her face, her features hard to make out. Across her arm she wears a white velvet headband, adorned with a blank forehead protector. A heavy chain-mail top protects her torso over a black crop top, somewhat obscured by her well-worn brown leather riding jacket jacket. She strides up to the tavern bar, knocking on the wooden bartop twice before looking up, her hair falling slightly to one side and exposing a single blue eye - and a wide smile with a playful and mischievous grin.
" Hey there, barkeep. It's been a while. "
She swings her right leg up to the top of the stool in front of her, holding out her right hand to them, as if prepared to offer the greatest dap up of the decade, perhaps even the century. No words are needed, and her eyes glisten with a familiarity and nostalgia rarely scene, like a funny photograph of an old friend. She looks different, sounds different, but whatever has changed, she's clearly full of a new and vibrant joy.
" Hey there, barkeep. It's been a while. "
She swings her right leg up to the top of the stool in front of her, holding out her right hand to them, as if prepared to offer the greatest dap up of the decade, perhaps even the century. No words are needed, and her eyes glisten with a familiarity and nostalgia rarely scene, like a funny photograph of an old friend. She looks different, sounds different, but whatever has changed, she's clearly full of a new and vibrant joy.
