<div align="center">(http://i1178.photobucket.com/albums/x370/ChaneeDawn/Edith.jpg)</div><br/><div style="text-align: left;"><strong>Name:</strong> Edith Geir<br/><strong>Scion of:</strong> Freya<br/><strong>Location:</strong> O’Bryan’s Nine Irish Brothers (Irish Pub)<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong> Anyone present<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong> This (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=38025488)<br/><strong>Time of day:</strong> Mid-Afternoon</div><hr/><br/>Whipping around, Edith narrowed her eyes at the man. Already her hands were itching to feel the familiar cold iron of her guns, or the heaviness of her sword. Who did this man think he was saying such things in public, did he work for Abran? Was he here to spy on her, if so the guy was horrible at it. Yet as he continued talking Edith kept her guard up, so what if they were in a public place; it wouldn't be the first time she fought in a bar. Malik stuck only his nose out, sniffing the air curiously as the man kept up with the observations.<br/><br/><em>"You're lovely; far too lovely for a place like this, yet you're not here to garner attention. Oh, no, quite the contrary, you had a long night. You didn't sleep well. You're tired, yet it was something that happened within the past twenty four hours that has upset you. You're slumping with exhaustion, yet your eyes are still without dark blemish and your hair isn't particularly out of sorts, so you've not gone too long without sleep."</em><br/><br/>Was it plain to see that she was tired? Edith was hoping she seemed irritated to keep unwanted attention away to be honest, like him for example.<br/><br/><em>"Also, you keep a pet fox hidden in your bag. Most who notice there's an animal at all likely assume it's a small dog or cat; some strange affectation, yet not the way you show affection to the creature. No, this animal is a gift, likely from your parent."</em><br/><br/>Malik stuck his head all the way out, eying the stranger more carefully now. Though he was small the fox could cause some serious damage if need be.<br/><br/><em>"You're dressed fashionably, yet not impractically so; you're ready in case of any ambush. Stilettos don't do well in the face of titanspawn, I'm sure, so you've gone with durable boots that could give support to your ankles in a fight or flight situation. In your case, it could be both, as I'm assuming Freya is your mother. Your hair is quite flaxen; unnaturally so, yet it's clearly your natural coloration -- your roots would be showing if there were any dying involved, and clearly your mother has been keeping you busy."</em><br/><br/>When he mentioned her mother, Edith kept her face void of emotion even her eyes showed nothing. This man was something else alright, he was good and almost too good. Lifting her drink to her lips she casually sipped it, not once letting her focus shift on anyone else and never letting her guard down. She knew first hand that nothing was what they seemed or that all people could be trusted right off the bat.<br/><br/>Clearing her throat Edith leaned back a bit, her hand resting comfortably close to her bag. Hidden away safety was one of her guns in the pouch and with one word Malik would toss the weapon out with ease, under her fluttery tank top, strapped to her sides were her babies. The two guns that she never went without and could easily do some damage to anyone not expecting it.<br/><br/>"Well then... Garamonde was it? If you can tell so much about me just from a simple look, you must have known a lot about William..." Leaning only a slight fraction towards him, silvery blond hair cascaded around her face. Her accent slightly strong and letting anyone know she wasn't from the States. "And if you knew William like I did then yes, the fates have laid a road for us... Võsu." Speaking the last word in Estonian as a bartender passed by, Edith figured that Maxwell was a scion like her if he could point one out of a semi-crowded bar.