(The following is an open thread, welcome to any who want to toss in some odd writing. If no one responds, I'll continue posting anyway! Enjoy. )
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She just stood there.
Her mouth was twisted into a smirk, oozing with pride, only half displayed by the mask that had almost been torn clean off her face. It now served as a disheveled trophy.
“Don’t touch the mask.”
The comment was warm with a soft, almost untraceable accent- and it was directed to a dark-skinned man now squirming on the floor. Some curse words were sputtered outward in return to the remark. Navenia smirked again and shook her hand rapidly in an effort to regain some of the feeling.
Keep smiling. Keep smiling. Damn, that one hurt.
The frown was brief, but after only a second Navenia flickered her dull green eyes upward at the rest of the inn. A quick gaze around the smoky interior judged that her action was either unimportant or missed entirely. The other patrons spared only glances, but continued their conversations without skipping a beat. The man stood up holding the right side of his jaw, and stumbled away in a drunk stupor. Navenia adjusted her mask so that it properly covered her nose and mouth and- after a quick check to assure her hood had stayed in place- returned to her seated position at the table in the left corner of the Rum n’ Rumble.
Okay, perhaps lurking in the corner of a shipwrecked tavern full of drunken pirates and locals within the City of Tortage was, in itself, inviting trouble. Perhaps. Not that Navenia would ever admit that.
With the back of her glove she brushed the top of her exposed, fair-skinned cheekbone, and crossed her arms over her chest.
Its been awhile now. She thought to herself among the audible chatter of the locals. Maybe I've been too rash about meeting them here.
Her eyes dropped to stare at the single candle off-center of her table.
Something about this feels…wrong.