This answer seemed to ease Miur's concerns, her face softening. “Well, if I were in one's stomach, I'd be throwing even greater hissy fits. I've been told I'm quite the fussy woman.” Her gage of a tantrum was questionable, to say the least, did bleeding really qualify? She continued, “Divine...
“Thank you, good sir.” She coiled two pale hands around the goblet, lifting it to take a few long swigs. Whatever joy showed on her face quickly drained, replaced with a scrunched up look of disdain as she recoiled from the drink. It was nothing like her smooth, sticky and syrupy drinks of...
Miurenere flashed an easy smile towards the bard, returning the polite nod. A wave of relief washed over her. A few feet from the inn, a large mural of 'miurmiurmiur miurmiur miur miur miur' had been scribed into the mud with a stick, at varying levels of illegibility, her practice. It had been...
wooooooo! Better late than never. I'm excited to see where this roleplay goes. Quite an interesting array of characters so far~
(and lol to 'birthday boy')
Before retiring her bear at the stables, she was able to catch a glimpse through the door as she passed. A glimpse was really all it was, a blurred flurry of colours, the heavy bass of lively, but indistinguishable noise. Returning to the inn doors, she felt a swelling in her heart. For one...
Name: Miurenere Seilvefau, 'Miur'
Race: Elf
Age: 22
Height: 5'0”
Likes: Furball. Delicious food, and delicious booze, best when served together.
Dislikes: Being filthy, wet or unkempt. Long, tedious waits.
Physical description: She stands at 5'3” in her platforms (often taken off for comfort...