(Untitled)

[mycursedface]

It has been a couple of months, and the weather is cool enough even on Libya’s coast to warrant some additional clothing. In Medusa’s case, this means a pair of leather trousers underneath her tunic. And before anyone starts thinking that her trousers are stylish, they are not; different shades from different hides, sown together (yes, neatly) to

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[will_scarlett]

Will is trying to get some food and its not working, so he's grumbling at the Bar and doing his best to hide, well as much as someone wearing that much red can.

[mycursedface]

"I think she is broken."

[will_scarlett]

"Aye, yer grace, tis signs 'bout it, which tis just bothersome. Sometimes will work an tis tenders too just na now."

[mycursedface]

"Tenders? Oh, the people who serve."

[mycursedface]

Her eyes go wide as the napkin appears, but all she can do is study the symbols in confusion.

Being illiterate does have its disadvantages.

[musical_muse]

*The Lady Tere appears behind Medusa, chiming rather differently from the belled chains at her wrists, ankles, and waists. Very gypsyesque is the Lady this evening*

Good evening, cousin.

[mycursedface]

Medusa pauses and no, she doesn't jump. If her claws slide out, well, she slides them back in easy enough before turning.

"And the same to you, cousin."

[musical_muse]

Are you well this evening?

*There is compassion in her soft sweet voice, but no pity*

[mycursedface]

Pity is never something that Medusa has taken kindly.

"As well as can be expected. Yourself?"