<hr/><strong>Name </strong>Gretch<br/><strong>Location</strong>Don't Fall Inn 3<sup>rd</sup>floor hall<br/><strong>Tagging </strong>Mara<br/><strong>Content </strong>Daddy<br/><hr/>”Then why ya still up hea’ mewling like when I caughcha inn’a trash?” he barks back, referencing the first time, many years ago, Gretch let a young, rain-soaked orphan shelter up the back stairs. “Get to it!” he adds, punctuated by what was far from the first swift swat to her narrow behind.<br/><br/><hr/><strong>Name </strong>Gretla<br/><strong>Location</strong>Don't Fall Inn common room<br/><strong>Tagging </strong>Alice, Holly, everyone else<br/><strong>Content </strong>Earnest gushing<br/><hr/>”Ya foun’ it inna muck?” Gretla seemed somewhere between shocked and crestfallen. “I thought you might’ve found an admirer,” she teased Alice, stealing a glance at her almost bare behind. “Well anaway, ‘ah’ never seen it ‘afore,” Gretla answered. “A dragon on purple ‘n red. Mus’ be someone’s, mos’ folk don’t jus’ choose a dragon.” At the suggestion that the elf in the corner might own it, she looked to the table Raeni occupied. “Wait, where’d she go?”  In Raeni’s place was an empty goblet and a few gold crowns on the table. “Well, none’s ‘round ta claim it, ah guess it’s yourn’s. Sure is pretty.”<br/><br/>“Ya know, th’only folks been down there in a day er two been the Blackfoots. I don’ think none o’ that lot’d have somethin’ this flash, but they migh’ know ‘bout the dragon symbol if’n ya wanna fin’ out.”