<strong><span class="bbc_u">Character's Name:</span></strong>Mezolene Myndar<br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Location</strong></span>: The Starting Point tavern<br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>With whom:</strong></span>Open<br/><br/>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Winterfest was not Mezolene's favorite time of the year...<br/><br/>She was sentimental enough that she loved the companionship and general sense of good nature that was shared by everyone. But it was simply the worst time of the year for one of her Order. While there was no lack of clients for a Scarlet Companion during the rest of the year, Winterfest was that one time of year where even the greatest of bastards scraped together what meager morality they had. No one was quick to call upon a servant of Diana during the festivities, as if it would be unforgivably rude to stain the streets with blood or the bedsheets with semen on this holy occasion.<br/><br/>Mezolene was a strict advocate of etiquette, and so she bore the lack of business dutifully, knowing full well that the coming weeks would be all the busier for the vendettas and lusts stored up during the holiday. She had taken a personal day, her traveling clothing mended and the dyes refreshed. The indigo and burgundy stripes about her arms were positively vibrant, the faux velvet adorned with her rank and adorations of the Order. To those acquainted with the Scarlet Companions, it told the story of her service in short hand, a woman who had spent equal time honing her skills as Hunter and Lover.<br/><br/>She was overdressed, even for the holiday, but then it was important to her that as Diana's word given flesh, she was to look her best. Satin hugged her body like a lover, a thin chain mesh woven cunningly into the soft pastel fabric. The boots she wore were handtooled from a thick green hide whose origin was not immediately apparent. Clearly old and well worn, they were of such durability and quality, the patterns and glyphs across the hide were unscuffed and clear.<br/><br/>To speak of her weapons, they were clearly a matched set with her elegant bronze gauntlet. Stories of Diana were etched in loving detail across the length of her clawed gauntlet, and while it was certainly lovely, it was so thinly forged it was clearly ornamental strictly. Her sword and dagger were also well decorated, but of no real substance should it come to a fight. They had been chosen because she thought the bronze went well with her belt.<br/><br/>Mezolene sat at the table alone, her only companion a slender oblong case that was perched in the seat across from her. While she was enjoying a fresh melon and a black tea with a liberal amount of cider, her companion was having nothing. A seven foot length of chain united her with the case and it tinkled merrily whenever she reached for her cup and saucer.<br/><br/>She cradled the saucer beneath the cup protectively as Verik made his paniced entrance, his hip bumping her small patio table as he staggered forward blindly. As he made his swan dive onto the far table, Mezolene stood up slowly. Winterfest or not, staggering drunkenly into the middle of someone else's personal space could result in a brawl. She stirred her tea idly as she circled around her table, the chain rattling on the hardwood as she left her case where it was seated.<br/><br/>If there was to be a brawl, she wanted an unburdened view. When good nature prevailed, and people rushed to the drunken man's aid, she let out a soft sigh. She had hoped for something to distract her from the bard's singing. She found it was still a better alternative to watch the drama unfold as a wood elf made his way to the table to help the drunk. A bawdy limerick occurred to her, but given that her only companion tonight was her case, she stifled it in favor of calling out, "Too much Winterfest cheer, I should think!"