<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0080">Aurora looked down to the tugging at her already seemingly inappropriate dress, reaching to take the fabric back from the sprites' little hands. <br/>
"<i>N-Non</i>, that is not appropriate <i>petite vert-</i>", and she tried to do it quietly, as to not draw any more attention to herself than she might have already done. It was in this moment she truly desired to wear something like the other people did, to look like them and less of a target for skeptical and critical eyes. She had been very aware that she was different, but weren't they all? With their stripes and strange hats, funny words and interestingly bright colors.<br/>
<br/>
Shoo'ing them away the best she could, she folded her arms over herself self-consciously from this point on and looked to where the others (<a class="username" data-user-id="5411" data-username="@Chartreux" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/5411/">@Chartreux</a> , <a class="username" data-user-id="5865" data-username="@Josey wales" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/5865/">@Josey wales</a> ) had gathered and mingled amongst themselves, now more acquainted. (<a class="username" data-user-id="2453" data-username="@Zulma" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/2453/">@Zulma</a> ) To her surprise, the sweet (though previously frantic) woman in long business pants from earlier had been <i>climbing the tree</i>! And the men<i> helped</i> her! Afraid for the woman's safety, as well as any possible and strange consequences from whatever had brought them to this place. She practically <i>skipped</i> on the tips of her toes and the balls of her feet towards them- though still  a safe distance away from they and the incredibly large tree. <br/>
<br/>
"Erm-", she began, visible worry on her face even from the distance she kept. "Clara! Faites attention, ne te fais pas de mal .." <i>(Clara! Be careful, don't hurt yourself ...) </i><br/>
<br/>
Nervously, she took a seat at one of the old pews close-by and tried to silently micro-manage under her breath. <i>Don't drop her, don't fall. Don't drop her, don't fall.</i><br/>
<br/>
And of course, others <i>seemed</i> to be considerably less concerned than she. The interesting Nymph (<a class="username" data-user-id="1140" data-username="@Lady Riften" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/1140/">@Lady Riften</a> ) keeping to herself and playing her flute, where sprites gathered- the woman she once perceived to be channeling her confusion as anger earlier, back to one of the large doors. (<a class="username" data-user-id="6011" data-username="@Deviant" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/6011/">@Deviant</a> ) <br/>
<br/>
She looked away after a moment, back to the commotion at the tree. What was a cowboy? Who was Tinkerbell? What would they find inside of that tree?<br/>
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</span></span>