<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>: Noonish<br/><strong>Time of day ending post</strong>: Noonish<br/><strong>Location beginning post</strong>: Main street outside Seaside Sal's<br/><strong>Location ending post</strong>: Main street outside Seaside Sal's<br/><strong>Characters currently interacting with</strong>: Corann, Nemea<br/><strong>GM Intervention Request\Required?</strong>No<br/><hr/><br/>Shapely bottom smarting, Sol accepted the offer of help up from the man responsible for her fall in the first place. Her tiny hand grabbed his, her sleeve slipping up just enough to expose the imprints on the backs of her fingers and hand. When she was upright, she immediately pulled his hand back and covered her own with her sleeve once more, glancing up at him to try to discern if he'd seen those features that not only made her who she was, but defined her as an outsider… a freak… never to be part of society no matter how much she may wish for it.<br/><br/>The look on his face was both shocked and curious, making her quite certain he’d at least caught a glimpse but perhaps wasn’t entirely sure what he’d seen. Brushing the dirt from her robes, she frowned behind her veil, but a moment later, Corann’s voice was booming loudly over the sounds of people moving around them. Eyes going wide as he proclaimed that she wasn’t diseased, she stared at him incredulously. What in the name of the Gods was wrong with him? Fighting the urge to reach out and use one of her marks to silence him, she balled her tiny hands in to fists inside the sleeves of her robes. His near mocking “whisper” of the word glory made her jaw work tensely behind her veil and she was suddenly quite certain that it was more than just his wish for death and dismemberment that made her dislike him.<br/><br/>He was also an ass. Fighting the urge to rip in to him verbally if for no other reason than she knew that he was now aware of her odd looks and could expose her at any moment and have her run out of town on a whim, she bit back a growl of annoyance. When the white haired male invited them for a drink, Sol was torn. Say no and get the hell out of there as soon as possible, risking the big one running his mouth about her, or stay and keep an eye on him but in turn tolerate his presence.<em>Decisions, decisions…</em>she thought, but finally spoke, looking at Nemea, attempting a nonchalant shrug. “Sure. Might as well,” she murmured, her mismatched eyes flicking back to Corann for a moment as if to be sure he was still there and hadn’t walked away.