<strong>Celeste Devonshire</strong><br/><br/>The rather pale elf, likewise escorted her mule with the caravan.  By and large she had kept to herself throughout the trip thus far, speaking as little as possible.  Noticing what was happening on the fringes of the city she sighs slightly to herself and nudges one of the drovers for the wagons, handing him the lead for her animal before moving closer to see what was going on.<br/><br/>Celeste has something of an eerie presence when taken overall.  Her frame is slight, even by the standards of elves, yet she is still what many consider to be beautiful.  Tall, delicate and slender, she carries herself with a dancers elegance.  She is amply curved and reasonably endowed without being overly so, her skin is without the usual tone associated with elves.  Rather, her skin approaches more closely what some might call a deathly pallor.<br/><br/>Her long, silky soft, white hair delicately frames her soft face, hanging nearly to her waist.  The only two points of significant  color to her appearance are her succulent, pouty red lips and the delicate turquoise of her eyes.  The color of her lips is very nearly the red color of fresh blood, while the subtle blue-green color of her eyes is such that it would be easy for one to become distracted by them.<br/><br/>At the moment, in her travels, she wears nearly black colored, supple studded leather with a black swordsmans belt about the waist.  Where normally a sword would hang instead rests a rather wicked looking whip.  Rather than a bare length of braided leather with a wooden handle, hers ends with the flash of metal, almost giving the appearance of a dagger braided into the the tip with a number of sharp barbs entwined through the leather below that.  The armor itself is cut so as to be rather flattering to her figure while still protecting the wearer, revealing, for instance, her pale, delicate flesh in a low cut V to where the holy symbol of Calistria rests atop a tasteful display of decolletage, and the bottom dagger disappearing into the shadowy cleft.<br/><br/>She looks quietly to the other member of the caravan that appears to have taken an interest in things.  She had noticed the woman in the caravan, but had not thought much in her regards.  Yet now it appears that they have at least something in common in the old professor.  Perhaps there was more to this woman than she had thought on the journey to the town...such would bear keeping in mind.<br/><br/>She ponders a moment as to whether to reply, but decides instead to allow the fellow traveler to speak.  She seemed well spoken thus far.  In the mean time, she simply stood nearby in silent support, adding the weight of her gaze to that of Lilial's in the hope that perhaps the appearance of a countervailing group to the developing mob might help resist the madness.  She had seen enough angry mobs in the brief span of her life.  She did not need another.  Particularly not when she was already coming to pay her respects at a funeral.