Thread: Pynti-Peldot

Name Nickname Brynne daughter of Bastian. Race Human. Attire Black, empire-waisted, long-sleeved dress with red and gold trim black leather boots. Weapon Dagger . Location Pynti-Peldot inside the Inn of the Snowy Eagle. Tagging Anyone, Celeste sees Vaemyr. Time TA 3018, March 1, evening. Some wine, please, Brynne spoke softly, almost shyly, to the barkeep. Her one hand tugged on her shawl while the other had its fingers furiously twisting themselves about tendrils of dark hair that flowed over her slender shoulders. She gave him a smile, her cheeks heating up slightly as she blushed a light shade of red. For nearly two months she'd been living in this Lossoth village, yet she still felt like an outsider in practically every way. She figured it would probably always be this way though many tried to make her feel at ease, assuring her that she was welcome and safe ever since they'd found her and brought her back to Pynti-Peldot. Brynne's thoughts drifted back to Dale and her last moments back in the comfort of her home before her life had been turned upside down. She could still feel those hands grabbing and pulling, dragging her out of the quiet calm that was her room and out into the hard cold of night. It was a mystery as to how such an invasion occurred on the grounds of her father's estate. Bastian son of Balthazar had always been so careful, especially where his daughter was concerned. A warmth spread over her skin as she recalled the countless guards he'd hired specifically to keep watch over her, to ensure her safety and well being. Just then, a glass of wine was set in front of Brynne causing her to jump. She giggled nervously and smiled, place a few gold coins on the table for the barkeep to collect at his leisure. Letting out a shaky sigh, she turned to reach for her glass. Bringing it to her lips, she heard a voice--soft, feminine--and shifted so as to see who might be addressing her. It was an Elf. Brynne's eyebrows knitted together as she took a small sip of her wine, one hand still clutching tightly to her shawl. No, well... yes, she began to explain, her cheeks growing hotter by the minute as she spoke. Feeling anxious, her dark eyes began to dart about the room, taking in the sight of the Inn's patrons as the came and went. I've been living here for a couple months, she continued. As Brynne further explained, her eyes caught sight of a newcomer to the Inn, his large frame and attire standing out as he confidently, yet silently made his way through the crowd. She sucked in a sharp breath as she carefully studied him from afar. She knew the garments well--that trim, the emblem... Even his face hadn't changed much over time, if she was honest. Though she knew he'd probably never recognize her let alone remember. She'd been but a child last he'd seen her, a waif who had little time for anything but sewing seams. Just what was Vaemyr doing this far north, she wondered. But then who was she to question a man such as he--a man of war. Licking her lips, Brynne looked back at the Elf and smiled. And I am untroubled, she said. Just needing some air. I've been doing a bit of mending and I needed to take a break for a while. Once again, her eyes shifted and she looked to the man she remembered as a young girl, the one who requested she sew him the tunic he was wearing right then.