Mead gripped within the tendrils of her mind (her first and only cup mind you, the assassin always liked to keep a clear head), she wandered among the streets leisurely, slipping silently through the crowds. Until one brushed up against her accidentally, a voice permeating the harmonious chatter.
“No harm done,” she found herself automatically responding as she turned to face the mare, a friendly smile on her lips. Perhaps it was the mead, or the sense of happiness and warmth radiating from the smiling faces and joyful crowds, but Castalla did not find herself adopting her usual suspicion. Instead, her cerulean oculars now finding the form of a striped mare, the Wolf dipped her head graciously. Spying the glint of silver iron, the rogue swiftly examined the weapon strapped to the femme’s side. <“That’s a nice axe you’ve got there,” genuine appreciation painting her tones. Though Castalla preferred lighter weapons, she was trained to readily handle heavier hammers and axes and of course the warrior could recognise fine craftsmanship when she saw it. The lightness of her forearms, cold where her daggers were usually sheathed in leather bands, was all the more noticeable for a moment and she missed her trusted weapons. But they were safe where she buried them upon Novus shore, hidden from prying eyes and those that might assume the worst of her.
“The festivities are lovely.” She inclines her head gracefully, indicating the gathered crowds. The White Wolf did not miss a beat, though she had only been here several weeks, it had not taken her long to learn the names and faces of those ranked among the Court. This was Antiope, Regent of the Night Court and Castalla had to admit she was keen to get to know other warriors. Had the regent had a hoof in the organisation of the celebration?
@Antiope sorry not sorry lol
