<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/childedit1.jpg)</div><em>Solfiria Character Post</em><br/><strong>Time of day beginning post</strong>: 1-2 pm-ish<br/><strong>Time of day ending post</strong>: 1-2 pm-ish<br/><strong>Location beginning post</strong>: Outside the Bold Bison<br/><strong>Location ending post</strong>: Inside the Bold Bison<br/><strong>Characters currently interacting with</strong>: Nemea, Holly<br/><strong>GM Intervention Request\Required?</strong>No<br/><hr/><br/>When the strange bramble-clad woman seemed to develop an instantaneous case of verbal diarrhea, Sol watched and listened to her with a mixture of surprise and amusement. On the one hand, the shift in her speech (both amount and speed) was stunning enough to render Sol speechless as she went on. And on the other hand, the fact that she felt the need to talk so very, very much was enough to make Sol want to laugh and walk away. Perhaps the girl was a loon. Perhaps she really did just think that talking that much was necessary... no one could really be sure, honestly, but Sol was betting on loon. She said she talked to trees, after all.<br/><br/>Though she exchanged glances with her white haired companion and seemingly determined caretaker who showed every sign of not only insisting she go outside, but following her should she chose to venture even further out in to the area the storm was threatening with it's fury, she seemed far less impressed and interested than he was in the newcomer. After a moment, however, of her babbling about covering her face and Nemea insisting that they should all go inside and out of potential harm's way, Sol rolled her eyes. Go inside with them so they'd shut up about the damn storm and about her putting herself at risk... or stay outside and risk this white haired guy getting hurt because of her?<br/><br/>Groan. Damn conscience. "Fine," came her short, annoyed sounding reply. "Let's go then. Come on, nature girl. Come on, Snow." She sounded less than thrilled, but part of her was secretly hoping that once the other two were inside and surrounded by people who liked to talk as much as they did, she might be able to slip away on her own. Standing, she grabbed her pack, slung it over her shoulder, and set off in a flutter of black robes toward the door of the Inn without even waiting for the auburn haired woman to answer Nemea's question about what she was.