After having successfully endured the noble's party yesterday, Beleth is ready to cut loose. But there are still strings attached to her--both her responsibilities as the scoutmaster, and her own reluctance. It's time to take advantage of the holiday and be, for one night, someone entirely different. Someone who isn't held back, by their job and by themselves.
And so, her dress is something entirely different in both style and coloring than what she usually wears, something appropriate for an elf in Lowtown, with her hair covered and tied back by a matching red scarf. Her mask fully obscures her face--her vallaslin in particular, something that she'd been careful to see to. Only if you're lucky will you catch the glint of bright purple eyes in the dim light, peeking through the wolf's face.
Her bearing has changed, as well. She all but sashays through the crowd, laughing and shouting along with everyone else. Occasionally she's pulled into an impromptu dance, or grabs someone else, or grabs a drink, or gives a drink. But for all the noise she makes, she rarely speaks any actual words. After all, it's a lot harder to recognize a voice that's just yelling out in enjoyment of the evening.
Despite the efforts she's gone through, though, she finds that she is, actually, enjoying herself. It's nice, to not have to be weighed down by herself, for a night.
Docks
Well, there's more yelling going on here, but this isn't in enjoyment. She dodges a vase flying at her, resisting the urge to go to her dagger tucked away in her sleeve. Flattening herself against the wall, holding her hand up to her mask, she's sure she looks as foolish as she feels, but she'll look even more foolish getting furniture upside the noggin.
"By the--By the Maker." She gasps out, taking quick steps to peek around the corner. That's a thing people say, right? She's pretty sure that's a thing people say. "Demons. Demons. Were the children demons? Are demons interested in money, now?" Demonic capitalists, that's really what Thedas needs.
Slowly, hampered by her mask, she takes a quick look around the corner, only to dodge back around as a chair goes flying past her. Sylaise grant her strength, what an embarrassing way to die.
Beleth Ashara | Open
After having successfully endured the noble's party yesterday, Beleth is ready to cut loose. But there are still strings attached to her--both her responsibilities as the scoutmaster, and her own reluctance. It's time to take advantage of the holiday and be, for one night, someone entirely different. Someone who isn't held back, by their job and by themselves.
And so, her dress is something entirely different in both style and coloring than what she usually wears, something appropriate for an elf in Lowtown, with her hair covered and tied back by a matching red scarf. Her mask fully obscures her face--her vallaslin in particular, something that she'd been careful to see to. Only if you're lucky will you catch the glint of bright purple eyes in the dim light, peeking through the wolf's face.
Her bearing has changed, as well. She all but sashays through the crowd, laughing and shouting along with everyone else. Occasionally she's pulled into an impromptu dance, or grabs someone else, or grabs a drink, or gives a drink. But for all the noise she makes, she rarely speaks any actual words. After all, it's a lot harder to recognize a voice that's just yelling out in enjoyment of the evening.
Despite the efforts she's gone through, though, she finds that she is, actually, enjoying herself. It's nice, to not have to be weighed down by herself, for a night.
Docks
Well, there's more yelling going on here, but this isn't in enjoyment. She dodges a vase flying at her, resisting the urge to go to her dagger tucked away in her sleeve. Flattening herself against the wall, holding her hand up to her mask, she's sure she looks as foolish as she feels, but she'll look even more foolish getting furniture upside the noggin.
"By the--By the Maker." She gasps out, taking quick steps to peek around the corner. That's a thing people say, right? She's pretty sure that's a thing people say. "Demons. Demons. Were the children demons? Are demons interested in money, now?" Demonic capitalists, that's really what Thedas needs.
Slowly, hampered by her mask, she takes a quick look around the corner, only to dodge back around as a chair goes flying past her. Sylaise grant her strength, what an embarrassing way to die.