(http://i276.photobucket.com/albums/kk8/hornerjs82/Elliquiy%20Things/icon-1.jpg)<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><strong>Name:</strong> <em>Lady Almeria Pembroke</em><br/><strong>Age:</strong> Twenty Two<br/><strong>Era:</strong> Georgian England: 1714-1820</span><br/><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Almeria had to fight for composure then, but managed the sweetest of smiles.  <br/><br/><em>"Sir, a pleasure it is ..."</em>  She bowed her own head in reply to Asmar, tea cup cradled in her fingers.  Yet, distraction followed with the entrance of a man so plainly having been just at war, that her face went ashen.  Her half gloved fingers gripped the tea cup in an effort not to slide from the chair in a heap of long pink gown befitting the era from whence she'd come - and raven haired female.<br/><br/><em>"Oh dear ... that cannot ... be good at all."</em>  Her eyes went wide at the bayonet tucked in his belt, the dubious colouring of the uniform that she could not place, and the weaponry on his back.  Almeria took deep breaths into her tea for courage - and by the time she'd managed to appear normal, Eve had already swept the man off to other quarters.<br/><br/>She looked to Asmar, biting her lower lip, lifting the tea cup to her lips to sip, slowly.  <br/><br/><em>Breathe, Almeria.  People from various ... times ... appear often here.</em>  <br/><br/>Though she'd reflected then that the new man's manners - though the speech was something she had never heard - she could understand him with relative ease, and his uniform - while not near as decorative of those she'd seen - was not terribly different in cut.  So he must not have been so far off from her own period.<br/><br/><em>You can do this, it is mere simple logic ...</em> <br/><br/><em>"So then.  Where ... would he be from, do you think?  The ... gentleman that passed through?"</em>  Her brows lifted as she spoke to Asmar in a steady tone she took immense pride in.</span>