Maea
Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand
Given her diminutive size, perhaps even a fae garment or two might fit decently. It would be a lucky find however, so she was grateful to have Liam's suggestions to fall back on. With him as a guide they found the way to the Bodega without getting lost, and as stillness fell away with the growing number of fae around - calling and talking, singing and arguing about ordinary things - Maea roused herself from her silence. Tried to, anyway; she remained self conscious of her uncombed hair and the mud splattered over her dress, especially after catching sight of herself in a mirror. The dark hollows like bruises beneath her eyes did nothing to soften the impression of having lived through a rough night.
"Comfortable is more important anyway," she agreed, making an effort to follow up his attempt at levity. "Maybe I'll try for some color, though... Aside from black, what do you think I should pick?"
They reached a stall catering to outsiders. Pausing to flip through a rack of trousers, she found the cuts and fabrics a lot different from what the was used to. High in the waist, loose and flowy in the leg, often patterned in vibrant - occasionally garish - colors. Any shirts she found were backless in the way of the fae; apparently it was a popular style, particularly for visitors of warmer climes.
"Comfortable is more important anyway," she agreed, making an effort to follow up his attempt at levity. "Maybe I'll try for some color, though... Aside from black, what do you think I should pick?"
They reached a stall catering to outsiders. Pausing to flip through a rack of trousers, she found the cuts and fabrics a lot different from what the was used to. High in the waist, loose and flowy in the leg, often patterned in vibrant - occasionally garish - colors. Any shirts she found were backless in the way of the fae; apparently it was a popular style, particularly for visitors of warmer climes.
You're looking at me like you don't know who I am
