<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0080">Aurora almost hadn't noticed the business woman (<a class="username" data-user-id="2453" data-username="@Zulma" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/2453/">@Zulma</a> ), dressed in equally strange clothing as every other <i>"modern day"</i> person had been who'd arrived. She wasn't truly facing that way, after all. It wasn't until she turned and the incredibly mind-disheveled woman had already been towering over her that she could fully acknowledge her- the stripes on her attire, the colors, her hair cut and how she spoke- all foreign, though her tongue similar to that of the man she'd just spoken to. English, right? The woman spoke so fast, Aurora almost hadn't been able to keep up! With an agape mouth and clear sudden angst, she looked from the woman back to the older gentleman (<a class="username" data-user-id="5411" data-username="@Chartreux" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/5411/">@Chartreux</a> ) of which she hadn't realized was no longer at her side until just this moment- when she figured <i>he</i> might have been a better help to the woman, than herself. <br/>
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"Er- Monsieur ..." She said over her shoulder, very timidly, noticing that he was venturing off on his own. She hadn't wanted to bother him, but she had begun to get overwhelmed with the amount of energy surrounding them as well as her own resolved feelings. <br/>
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Looking back to the woman (<a class="username" data-user-id="2453" data-username="@Zulma" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/2453/">@Zulma</a> ), she raised both of her hands in a sort of <i>'halting'</i> motion very slowly, with hopes of calming the woman in the process. "Madame, I am Aurora. I ... <i>J' ne sais pas ... erm</i>," she fumbled, now resorting to gesturing. She almost didn't know how to get the words out that she wanted- she understood most of what was asked, but she had absolutely <i>no</i> answers. "I am lost." She finally admitted. "Maybe <i>him</i> as well." She then gestured to the kind gentleman from earlier (<a class="username" data-user-id="5411" data-username="@Chartreux" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/5411/">@Chartreux</a> ), and then towards the others who had been before and after herself. "<i>Et eux ...</i>" (<i>And them...</i>) <br/>
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(<a class="username" data-user-id="2453" data-username="@Zulma" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/2453/">@Zulma</a> ) "I offer an apology." She finally sighed, resting her hands over her chest now as if suddenly self-conscious at being the most differently dressed it seemed from everyone else in the cathedral. They dressed in what might have been considered excessive where she came from- but where she </span></span><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 0, 128)">came from</span></span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0080">, the body was celebrated, and the garments adorning it were only status. No-one would have blinked simply because of her dress, maybe only because she looked so distressed from running through the forest the way she had- eyes puffy from crying, cheeks rosy and curls frizzed. She'd less rosy now, as she'd stopped crying shortly after arriving. It wasn't obvious anymore unless she'd been prodded at, that she herself  had fled an imperfect situation as well. </span></span>