<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/da/7f/3e/da7f3eae8e456358ea1d060d5f7a2675.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Jehanne (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=328118.msg15693755#msg15693755)<br/><strong>Location</strong>: On her way upstairs, then bathing<br/><strong>Action</strong>: Getting presentable<br/><strong>Wearing</strong>: Leather armor vest (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/dd/f6/7a/ddf67a56a0e7316a8ad438d06f7b42c0.jpg) and manica (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/70/aa/53/70aa53c439a5b67d9755e7c748bf2efe.jpg); leather pants and high boots; then nothing.<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open<br/><hr/><br/>With Spade seeming satisfied with his gold, Jehanne turned from the bar and stalked with long strides towards the heavy wooden stairs that led up to the rooms, hands already working at the fastenings of her armor. "Pour us another, aye?  I'll be back presently."<br/><br/>By the time she got to her accustomed room, everything was loose enough to simply drop on the floor inside the door save her breechclout and breastband. Those she unwound, then stood in front of the large looking glass and examined herself. Not that she'd changed, so far as she could tell. Never had. No beauty, she wasn't a horror either, though she was less curvaceous and had more defined muscles than some cared for.  Despite vague memories of scores of fights, she still only had a single old scar, the fine one directly over her heart. How it had come to be there, she knew not; in her mind, she had always looked exactly as she did now. She didn't count, of course, the still slightly weeping jagged tears across her left arm and breast where the hooked net had caught her through the leather, or the hole in her thigh where she'd yanked the arrow free. They'd be gone by morning. Two days, at the most, if she got rambunctious.<br/><br/>Then there were the warmarks, and she turned her tight rump to the glass and craned her head over her shoulder to look at them. Nothing special there, either, simply row after row of small red hashmarks that started at the nape of her neck and ran all the way across and down her back. There was one right at the top of her tailbone that she was reasonably sure hadn't been there, but that was fuzzy as well. She'd tried to count them, once, but had lost track or interest at something over a hundred and forty. Every so often, she realized they had spread further, which meant that many more victories, but the time in between was always foggy.<br/><br/>Ah well. There was no fighting Fate, to say naught of understanding it. Live for today, for at some point soon, she'd be dead again. Or alive. And walking back through the fucking door yet again. So, sighing, feeling things twinge here and there, she settled into the hot water, and drew her knees up, folding her long legs so she could settle in as deeply as possible.