In his arms if it had not been so cold and wet he would have easily noticed a subtle warmth did appear to exist within her, she was not cold, and her eyes were wide open. Emerald green eyes, piercing and deep, stared up threw the strands in her face, up at the cavern ceiling.<br/><br/>Nothing happened immediately, true, with some time the key of the fire warming her and her damp part, the key swiveled about a quarter turn and then caught again, as if clogged or stuck. But in that quarter turn she blinked, a slow flutter of her long lashes and a breath rose in her chest before the catching of the key.<br/><br/>She was in knee high dark brown leather boot with copper buckles, tarnished green from the time, up the sides. Black leggings, with rips and tears a few visible cuts with long sense caked dirt and dried blood. A tattered long skirt, patchworked and slit to the hip on both sides, it was a heavier fabric and yet it was not quite drenched with water. A form fitting bodice, dirty and stained, but perhaps once was a fine violet, with hand stitching, also made from the strange material.