ghost towns

She had gone back to the Tavern for no real describable reason. It was the first place she had stepped foot in when she arrived here, and there was something about it and the atmosphere that felt welcoming. Of course, the drinks didn’t hurt too. She had managed to spend some time working on her appearance – not longer coming off as a runaway captive, finding her way here; but instead, a charming woman whose brunette hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders and her sapphire gaze was clearer than it had been in the recent weeks. Her clothes had now looked clean, and she had managed to find a decent fitting shirt (a blouse of sorts) that fit better than that loose t-shirt she had been wearing previously. She looked rather put together for someone who still had no idea what this place was and who she would be within it. Still, she made her way into the tavern, stepping up to the bar and ordering a strong drink – prepared to spend the rest of the evening here, watching, waiting, to see if anyone could help give her information on the topic of this world and what it was about. The drink was mostly to try and numb the strangest of things to have happened to her here – the encounter with Frey that continued to leave her mind reeling. She felt better about it, less like she would go and yell at the shrine, and instead more of a numb kind of anger. It still spiked in her blood, but she remained wary and cautious of any kind of strange happenings, deciding that perhaps her time here was best not to tempt fate. Kaladin time stops still and lends you hope that hazy due, so black so blue wash away that fear, a cloud of smoke whatever lets you cope