[ What she notices before anything else is his height - here is a man who is tall, and thus, she hopes, a knight. But he is not dressed as a knight; he is, like her, not dressed at all. And, after a scathing glance down his seated body, she decides he cannot be a man of Westeros at all. He is finely groomed, so finely groomed that it seems no hair covers his body at all, though this is not immediately displeasing. A neat, clean jaw had always appealed to her.
He is not brimming with muscle, looking to her rather slim, but he is composed and, to judge by his averted eyes, chivalrous. Emboldened by this bit of deference, she pads closer to where he sits, studying his face and narrowing her jade eyes at his words. They glint with suspicion; does he mock her? She almost laughs, imagining that the two of them share any sort of similar situation. They have both been robbed of their clothing, yes, but he is no one that she knows. He cannot be anyone of notable title.
There is something strange about him, not only in his make, but in his bearing. Does this poise come from long courtly practice? Is he scheming? Is he paralyzed by shock or rage? Grief? She approaches with a calculating poise of her own design, prepared to flee should he prove himself a foe. ]
Who have you seen? They can't have left us here alone. [ She does not know who they are, only that whoever has had the gall to try and humiliate her this way would not leave her for long. Gold is never left unattended. Then, without overture - ] Can you fight?
no subject
He is not brimming with muscle, looking to her rather slim, but he is composed and, to judge by his averted eyes, chivalrous. Emboldened by this bit of deference, she pads closer to where he sits, studying his face and narrowing her jade eyes at his words. They glint with suspicion; does he mock her? She almost laughs, imagining that the two of them share any sort of similar situation. They have both been robbed of their clothing, yes, but he is no one that she knows. He cannot be anyone of notable title.
There is something strange about him, not only in his make, but in his bearing. Does this poise come from long courtly practice? Is he scheming? Is he paralyzed by shock or rage? Grief? She approaches with a calculating poise of her own design, prepared to flee should he prove himself a foe. ]
Who have you seen? They can't have left us here alone. [ She does not know who they are, only that whoever has had the gall to try and humiliate her this way would not leave her for long. Gold is never left unattended. Then, without overture - ] Can you fight?