Maeve
There was something about choosing not to think. Her mind drifting just as lazily as the smoke from her joint before it was swept away by a gentle breeze from the sea. Maeve wasn't paying much mind to her surroundings. There wasn't really a need to be on guard here. Which is why she didn't notice the other woman approaching. Not until a voice carrying a gentle warning reaches her ears. The Madame props herself up on her elbows, muscles protesting weakly as she does so. Her head cocks to the side, dark curls shifting with the movement as bright green eyes drag over the woman's form.
The dragoon recruit uniform hugs her gentle curves and Maeve doesn't bother to hide the way her eyes trail from the top of her head all the way down to her bare feet. A slow, almost saccharine sweet smile curls on lightly painted lips that she wets with a swipe of her tongue as a perfectly shaped brow arches. "Is that so?" She purrs smoothly, bringing the joint back to her lips, drawing in another breath of the milky sweet smoke, "What does a pretty little thing like you know about what I'm smoking?" Upon closer inspection, were Seren familiar with such things, it would be clear that this isn't just a cigarette. It's hand rolled and the smoke coming from it smells too earthy and honeyed to be nicotine.
Maeve blows out the breath of smoke, letting the breeze carry it away as she crosses her legs at her ankles and the movement causes the slit in her skirt to shift, showing off long legs. Her own feet are bare, shoes resting to the side of her as she lounges her in the gardens.
The dragoon recruit uniform hugs her gentle curves and Maeve doesn't bother to hide the way her eyes trail from the top of her head all the way down to her bare feet. A slow, almost saccharine sweet smile curls on lightly painted lips that she wets with a swipe of her tongue as a perfectly shaped brow arches. "Is that so?" She purrs smoothly, bringing the joint back to her lips, drawing in another breath of the milky sweet smoke, "What does a pretty little thing like you know about what I'm smoking?" Upon closer inspection, were Seren familiar with such things, it would be clear that this isn't just a cigarette. It's hand rolled and the smoke coming from it smells too earthy and honeyed to be nicotine.
Maeve blows out the breath of smoke, letting the breeze carry it away as she crosses her legs at her ankles and the movement causes the slit in her skirt to shift, showing off long legs. Her own feet are bare, shoes resting to the side of her as she lounges her in the gardens.
Babe, there's something wretched about this
Something so precious about this
Oh what a sin
Something so precious about this
Oh what a sin
