Samsan's page

to Windom as she pours him a drink from her wineskin:
Kendra's missive took me by such surprise I regretfully did not secure one... until now. Consider the Kumis the start of your compensation.
so many... his kindness touched so many. Her eyes gloss over as tears begin to betray the smile on her face.
n'Devere turns to Drasven--still pouring--and her voice takes on the tone of a little girl imitating her father's scolding.

As for Saffron, the mare, she has always been so giving. When I told her I had to go say good bye to Petros, she nearly knocked me over offering a shoulder for comfort.

n'Devere then uses the raising of the goblet of wine to mask the motion of wiping tears from her face.
Still teaching, yet already gone. I think I remember the lesson. Let not who you are be the product of what you are.

Before the door can settle from Drasven's entrance n'Devere sleeks in, and follows through the crowd to an open seat. Her motion, smooth and calculated, is less as a matter of stealth and more a habit of not drawing attention and the wide berth granted the dwarf is convenient for not stumbling into a drunk or two.
these folk look jovial. perhaps they can lighten my mood... what was that about a horse? don't interrupt, but don't miss your window
The mare outside says this should open a seat for me among you.
She tosses a wineskin on the table with just enough force that a few drops of the pungent white liquid inside (Kumis) is forced through the cork stopper. She curtsies, wrapping the excess of her cloth belt about her forearms in lieu of a skirt to lift.
Did he say your name was Windom? I am called n'Devere. Not as easy on the tongue I know, but with practice.
She wink's at him and takes a seat. Dressed for travel, she carries no weapons. Her 5'7, 120lbs. fit nicely in the the chair but she doesn't relax. As she reaches for her wineskin to pour a finger or two to any interested, the keenly aware can notice the her fingertips still red with the pigment she used to dye her hair. Even harder to spot is her ears until a careless laugh tucks her hair behind them. Golden cuffs wrap the scars where the points of her half-elven ears were removed and each is artfully decorated with the red/orange/yellow of a flame.
Excuse me.
She blushes slightly as she hides her shame in her shortly cut hair again.

I think the GM may have to approve us to post in Gameplay. my original post expressing interest was over there by mistake (feb 28)and it got gobbled up too

updated race/plan
relations roll: 1d100 ⇒ 87

N'devere Lvvais Changeling monk...