(no subject)
It had taken some time, and not a little effort (curse the bird and all his ilk), but she had finally managed to shift the color of her dress from scarlet into something much more to her liking -- a rusty red shade, not unlike old, dried blood. It goes well with the soft gray gauze of the cobweb-light veil that shrouds her hair and face, she thinks.
(Her eyes are not hidden by the veil. They never are.)
Blodwen smiles to herself as she walks through the front door and into Milliways once again. She crosses the room with quick, light steps and approaches the bar.
"A pot of tea," she requests, "and a few biscuits, dear, if you would be that kind."
Her order is delivered along with a note. Curiosity flashes, but her patience is hard-learned. She does not open it while standing at the bar, as a result, but instead takes everything to a table before unfolding the paper and reading it in silence.
Some minutes later, she refolds it. It does not seem to trouble her that its edges are now weak and crumbling, flaking away at her touch.
She puts it away in a fold of her dress, and returns to her tea.
[OOC: an important note on appearances.]
(Her eyes are not hidden by the veil. They never are.)
Blodwen smiles to herself as she walks through the front door and into Milliways once again. She crosses the room with quick, light steps and approaches the bar.
"A pot of tea," she requests, "and a few biscuits, dear, if you would be that kind."
Her order is delivered along with a note. Curiosity flashes, but her patience is hard-learned. She does not open it while standing at the bar, as a result, but instead takes everything to a table before unfolding the paper and reading it in silence.
Some minutes later, she refolds it. It does not seem to trouble her that its edges are now weak and crumbling, flaking away at her touch.
She puts it away in a fold of her dress, and returns to her tea.
[OOC: an important note on appearances.]