<div align="center"><strong>Corann Character Post</strong></div><br/><strong>Time of day beginning post: </strong>Noonish<br/><strong>Time of day ending post:</strong>Noonish<br/><strong>Location beginning post:</strong>Seaside Sal's<br/><strong>Location ending post: </strong>Main street outside Seaside Sal's<br/><strong>Characters currently interacting with: </strong>Sol<br/><strong>GM Intervention Request\Required? (Yes/no):</strong>No.<br/><br/>Touching Corann’s arm felt a bit like touching a live wire; to an Imprinter it would feel a bit like touching her own well of power, as though something inside the Chosen’s body was vibrantly imbued with power that wasn’t entirely arcane and was as permanent as any well-done ink. Probably more so. In addition, he felt carved of sculpted, smooth muscle, the kind that came from action, not mere exercise, though there was a hint of that as well.<br/><br/>Looking down at Sol, his gaze oddly owlish, Corann’s mouth worked, the petulance seeming fixed. “It’s not right. Not at all. It’s not fair!” He actually stamped a booted foot on the ground, and somehow made the motion seem graceful and as threatening to the earth as it was childish. “I just want a new set of clothes. Why must it be so difficult? It’s not like I’m trying to run for mayor of some human city or am one of those cruel Stone Arms.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his shirt sleeves riding up to emphasize his bare wrists. Neither arm was made of stone, if that was any indicator.<br/><br/>Glowering down at the girl, he peered her over, not bothering to hide his admiration of her entirely clothed physique. From what he could tell - which, admittedly wasn't a lot - she was attractive beneath all her layers, and she moved like a woman who had a latent, innate sexuality. “You know, if you were good in a fight and about a foot taller, I’d ask you to disrobe and maybe even bed me.” He smiled slightly, as though he’d given her the best compliment he knew. Which, to him, was entirely the truth. “Despite looking like someone with a skin disorder, you walk like you've got plenty of energy. More even than some of the young of my kind.” He nodded, emphasizing his point, sending curls of hair around his sculpted, open features. Somehow, when he said the words, he sounded so genuine that he came across a bit like an inexperienced puppy, still growing into his paws.<br/><br/>“Say, you’re not from around here, are you?” He scrubbed one boot against the cobblestones and the pout melted into a guarded smile. “You wouldn’t know where I can find some adventure or monsters to kill to death, would you?” All woes of clothes seemed forgotten in his newfound inquiry.<br/>