<hr/><strong>Marsilia</strong>, Vodacce Roof-runner (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=291073.msg14291084#msg14291084)<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i65.tinypic.com/10oikyb.jpg)</div><strong>Time &amp; Location</strong>: Day 1, Washed Up On A Beach<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Everyone<br/><hr/><br/><em><strong>"Thrice buggered mother of all prophets, I need a drink,"</strong></em>is a certain petite pest's first wry vocalization as she regains her bearings with something more like<em>terra firma</em>under her now bare feet as slowly works her way further up the beach, stretching and groaning as her tiny body protests any further exertion.  Finally she turns to cast her gaze back on what's left of Wave Dancer.  Her face screws up into the grimmest, most sober expression anyone's seen on her.<br/><br/><strong>"Well...she's a complete loss, 'atsa for sure.  No-a patchin' that hole!"</strong>She snorts, shakes her head.<strong>"Next-a time, Zio Carlo can-a jus' find another errand girl to-a make-a this passage!  I'mma walk instead."</strong><br/><br/>She turns her attention to helping the others, if anyone needs a steadying hand or a bit of help, heedless of the chill from sodden clothes or the ample preview of her slender form as they cling uncomfortably.  There are more important things afoot at the moment, and she is a practical young woman.