"Frightening?"  Damaia snorted derisively as she took up the chair.  "I live with<em>Meraxes,</em>Robin; I do not fear peasants.  Well...save perhaps the prospect that they may sing all night."  She pulled a face at the sounds of merriment seeping up through the floorboards.  "This one is about a lusty wench.  And so was the last one.  Occasionally, they sing of a frigid wench, for variety."<br/><br/>She had carried a pewter flagon up to her room, and now she offered to pour some for her visitor.  "Local cider.  'Tis not bad," she opined, "once chilled.<em>Cania, vixis, morrul."</em>Damaia waggled her fingers at the flagon and the pewter frosted up in response.<br/><br/>"So...thank you for travelling.  The lord of this hovel has the book I desire.  And yet he will not part with it."<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><em>Damaia cast prestidigitation to chill the cider.  How did you make this say "OOC" instead of "Spoiler..."</em></div></div>