<strong>~ Freezya ~</strong><br/><br/>She ties he long red hair into a quick weave of a braid as she walks to her room.  She has just left town where the blacksmith had been less than cordial.  She growled at the thought.  She reached her room and finds her fighting leathers.  A halter of leather, loosely laid over her firm, but curvacious upper body.  A belted leather skirt about her waist with long leather pants beneath.  She adds a few leather bracers to her wrists and a choker to her neck.  These were brown to hide amongst the trees.  Not that her milky complection or fiery red hair would be a dead give-a-way, but that is another issue.  She takes out her combat boots.  Thick souled and high to her knees, leather reinforced somehow beyond her knowledge of shoe constructin.  She wrapped the laces around and tied them tight.  She grabs a cloak and her melee staff and walks with purpose out of her room.<br/><br/>There was a fire that blazed in her eyes as she walked.  Normally, she was light and bubbly.  Her countenounce was likened unto the sunshine or the babbling brook for the sheer joy and happiness she carried about her.  That blacksmith said somethings he should not have though.  Her fingers tighten about her staff as she heads to the practice arenas.  Her anger would be worked out in a most vigorous session.