It was no surprise that sleep had found Aine Nightwhisper quite easily after the full day of... 'adventure' in the inn she'd had previous. The older Kaldorei woman's joints ached and her back was a little sore from all of the effort given but it had been a good day and nearly ten hours of rest did the mind and body well. It was with a spring in her step that she walked down the stairs that separated the lodgings from the common room of the bar, her boots thudding loudly on the simple, bare planks of the steps. Like most of her kind Aine was a tall woman, standing a few scant inches over seven feet in her boots and head and shoulders even some of the most robust humans. Her build could only be described as strong, or perhaps disciplined. Her form was limber but her core was strong and her shoulders wide and rounded in their slope while her hips were wide and thighs thick and muscular, giving the woman a definitive pear shape. A simple white man's blouse was draped over her robust frame, its tails untucked from her tight leather pants and the laces at her collar left undone to tease just a hint of the beginnings of her cleavage. Simple was what one could call her appearance today. Simple, with a dash of a casual devil-may-care attitude. Fittingly her hair could be detailed much the same. While the sides of her head were razed down into a shaggy fuzz the top remained, pulled back into a loose and wild mane of braids and matted dreads from which a variety of trinkets and little beads of bone or clay dangled that jingled as she walked.<br/><br/>As the Night Elf set out toward the bar in her groggy, half-awake state the normally nocturnal creature failed to notice a few of the more debached  happenings in the inn. The moans were simply background noise in the tavern and it was hard to do much more than focus on more than one thing at a time in her state and her thoughts currently were quite intently focused on getting a drink. With fluid, slow movements she finally edged down into a seat next  to a Sin'dorei who looked nearly as worn as herself. There was a casual, silent nod in her direction before the snowy haired Kaldorei turned her attention toward the bartender and ordered a cider to start the morning off. As she waited, Aine set about rolling up the cuffs of her shirt's sleeves toward her elbows and once finally finished, rubbed at her face, long and dexterous digits ambling over her faded and obviously ancient markings.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>