It may be hot as hell, but she’s still dressed largely like a Halovian. She’d traded in the thick wool of her usual clothing for something lighter, acquired in the marketplace here with a few fat birds. Her skin isn’t used to such brutal sun though and as such, she’s kept it largely covered beneath pants and long sleeves. The cut of her top is low though, a thing she can’t resist when given the opportunity. Not too low, but rather just low enough to encourage the mind to wander. Things were more tantalizing when you only gave away the barest glimpse of them. The wing of an ink-black bird peeks above the collar-line of her shirt, but the rest of it is hidden beneath fabric. All of her important bits were, after all.
The man who finds her, however, is on semi-full display, though she doesn’t quite realize because his arms are covered in feathers. Attuned, then. Probably, anyway, because most anything was possible in Caido but she usually just hopes that the basics presented themselves in front of her. His height is obvious enough, the man towering over her. She is not tall by any means, but she’s not a midget and it’s a bit unsettling to have to look up at the man that talks to her now with a nonchalance she knows all too well.
It’s the same armor she wears, finding nonchalance to be a rather useful thing to weild. She gives him a wicked, amused sort of grin - not unkind, but playful - as her amber eyes take him in briefly. The ring on his finger doesn’t go unnoticed, but then again, Weaver always looks. It’s presence or lack of it changes her behavior. Not a lot, mind you, but just enough. Weaver is many terrible things, but a knowing homewrecker isn’t one of them.
“Rather phallic,” she says, turning back to the black tower, “So yea, rather ugly.” The amused curve of her mouth is still obvious, not trying to hide behind the joke that probably will only amuse her. “This thing trapped a god? Shitty prison.” Weaver turns her attention to him fully now, because he might be more interesting than the tower with his nonchalance and feather-covered arms. “Weaver,” she offers.
Sunjata
The man who finds her, however, is on semi-full display, though she doesn’t quite realize because his arms are covered in feathers. Attuned, then. Probably, anyway, because most anything was possible in Caido but she usually just hopes that the basics presented themselves in front of her. His height is obvious enough, the man towering over her. She is not tall by any means, but she’s not a midget and it’s a bit unsettling to have to look up at the man that talks to her now with a nonchalance she knows all too well.
It’s the same armor she wears, finding nonchalance to be a rather useful thing to weild. She gives him a wicked, amused sort of grin - not unkind, but playful - as her amber eyes take him in briefly. The ring on his finger doesn’t go unnoticed, but then again, Weaver always looks. It’s presence or lack of it changes her behavior. Not a lot, mind you, but just enough. Weaver is many terrible things, but a knowing homewrecker isn’t one of them.
“Rather phallic,” she says, turning back to the black tower, “So yea, rather ugly.” The amused curve of her mouth is still obvious, not trying to hide behind the joke that probably will only amuse her. “This thing trapped a god? Shitty prison.” Weaver turns her attention to him fully now, because he might be more interesting than the tower with his nonchalance and feather-covered arms. “Weaver,” she offers.
Sunjata
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
