Tamarie the Songweaver
Tamarie slips into the bar with little effort to draw attention to herself. She almost immediately looks to the stage, and then finds a table to seat herself at. Running her fingers over the well-worn wood, she is lost in examination of the various gouges and carvings when Marla clears her throat.
Pulling down the hood of her cloak, Tamarie's unique heritage is put on display for all to see. Large almond eyes and gracefully tapered ears mark her elven blood, a fact that is not lost on Marla at all.
[section]
Marla the Barmaid
"Are you the half-elf called Tamarie?" Marla asks, holding something in her hand as she throws a towel over her shoulder.[/section]
Looking up with bright, amber eyes not typical of elves, Tamarie smiles.
"Well, I'm Tamarie. And I'm at least part elven-blooded. I guess that's a yes." Even in the poor light of the inn, tufts of dark fur can be seen inside her upper ears.
Marla hesitates for a moment.
"Well, a Tamarie is a Tamarie in my book. So here you are, this little shot of gold came from an elf man. Tall guy, chiseled features..."
"Arradon?" Tamarie interjects, wondering.
"Well, he didn't exactly say," replies Marla, seemingly thinking of what all went on.
Tamarie accepts the money and peers inside.
"Probably," she says,
"I didn't expect this. In any case, let's start off the evening with dinner and see where it goes. Whatever the cook is most recommending tonight." The songweaver smiles, exposing a pair of sharp canines without thinking about it too much.
[sblock=ealt]OK, thank you, picked up.[/sblock]