Mysha, it seemed, missed the best part of the party.
Having come in silently ahead of some of her Kelborn brethren, she watched as Rook and Veren tangled on the ground, arms crossed beneath her bust. Though she was still clad in the grey beskar'gam of her father's vintage, her pouldrons seemed to bear a new color, shimmering in the light of the Hall. Red, casting a sharp relief the insignia of Clan Kelborn, etched in a deep black. Taking a draught of the narcolethe that seemed to be offered, she chuckled quietly to herself, enjoying the spectacle almost as much as she was enjoying the brew.
There was nothing like a good Keldabe Kiss to really waken the senses.
Speaking of...
Her gaze panned over all those who were present. A few were familiar; notably, however, she realized she was looking for the small figure of a yellow-clad Mandalorian bearing the Wren insignia. Not for the first time, she wondered about her little friend @Song Wren, met on Nevarro. A few beskar'gam were somewhat familiar to the Kelborn Armorer, however for now she would bide her time, and wait.
Slowly strolling up to be closer to Van'Aria, she would give her host a nod, and a slight salute with her drink, careful to keep out of the way of the brawlers, and the unconscious form of another, before slipping the straw beneath her helm and taking a long draught. If necessary, she could intervene, but why? It was far more entertaining to hear the ringing of punches while having a good drink.
Perhaps even the little Krow(@Forsythe Crowholde) would make an appearance, or even Arthos, a lad she knew since the assault on Zyggeria. The sound of drums was as familiar as her own heartbeat, but she fought the urge to look out for Hauron or Kotii, instead her voice came out in a low, bemused rumble.
<<"Better to fight it out now than let it fester,">> she muttered, more to herself than to anyone in particular. Still, she would be content to hang about in her little corner, biding her time unless she saw a more familiar helm or something to pique her curiosity.
Having come in silently ahead of some of her Kelborn brethren, she watched as Rook and Veren tangled on the ground, arms crossed beneath her bust. Though she was still clad in the grey beskar'gam of her father's vintage, her pouldrons seemed to bear a new color, shimmering in the light of the Hall. Red, casting a sharp relief the insignia of Clan Kelborn, etched in a deep black. Taking a draught of the narcolethe that seemed to be offered, she chuckled quietly to herself, enjoying the spectacle almost as much as she was enjoying the brew.
There was nothing like a good Keldabe Kiss to really waken the senses.
Speaking of...
Her gaze panned over all those who were present. A few were familiar; notably, however, she realized she was looking for the small figure of a yellow-clad Mandalorian bearing the Wren insignia. Not for the first time, she wondered about her little friend @Song Wren, met on Nevarro. A few beskar'gam were somewhat familiar to the Kelborn Armorer, however for now she would bide her time, and wait.
Slowly strolling up to be closer to Van'Aria, she would give her host a nod, and a slight salute with her drink, careful to keep out of the way of the brawlers, and the unconscious form of another, before slipping the straw beneath her helm and taking a long draught. If necessary, she could intervene, but why? It was far more entertaining to hear the ringing of punches while having a good drink.
Perhaps even the little Krow(@Forsythe Crowholde) would make an appearance, or even Arthos, a lad she knew since the assault on Zyggeria. The sound of drums was as familiar as her own heartbeat, but she fought the urge to look out for Hauron or Kotii, instead her voice came out in a low, bemused rumble.
<<"Better to fight it out now than let it fester,">> she muttered, more to herself than to anyone in particular. Still, she would be content to hang about in her little corner, biding her time unless she saw a more familiar helm or something to pique her curiosity.