<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/suwLIVD.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Nephele</span>(https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1375437)<hr/>The enchantress wasn't one to be reserved, usually, yet she did; struggling to keep that tempting smirk again from playing along her lips. Those endless pools of molten intensity threatening to reveal the amusement she felt as she watched another sink under her spell. She could see the minute changes, the sudden widening of eyes. The focus upon her, upon her words; her voice. Her smell. She kept close, just enough that he could<em>feel her;</em>the heat of her body. But all too soon she's stepping back as<em>Crow</em>seems to spring to action to do precisely what she'd wanted. Some of those coins did... tickle a certain bit of greed within her. A certain desire to urge him to give her that tip; yet instead, she remains quiet. Letting him collect and, as per instructions, hand them over to the guard properly. Neither she nor he were pigs about to get down in the mud for their food.<br/><br/>The raven-haired woman nodded simply to Crow's words though, putting every little piece into her head as he spoke - even if she couldn't quite make out the entirety of the picture. It seemed to make sense, him getting in over his head; and with the sudden roar of the crowd, it also made sense he'd be seeking to escape before someone ripped him apart for his bad deal.<strong>"I presume you unwisely placed a bet?"</strong>She muses, recalling the dwarf and elf that had been in the grips of battle. What the half-orc said, however, drew an actual little and amused curl to her lips as she straightened and absently dusted herself off, smoothing her dress out a little and making it cling a little more to her hips. Her lips parted again as if to say something, but...<br/><br/><strong>Tagging Oxenbridge.</strong><br/><br/>...There he was. The elf. The man that had been facing off against the dwarf; for once, she was out of words. Her shapely lips forming an almost natural O before closing firmly; into a tight purse. She studied him then as his gaze hastily drifted from her to the other two, presuming the reason to be business. Yet when Ox's focus shifted squarely upon the guard with such a menacing threat, she'd smoothly slide to the side; between. Her chin lifting as if to grant her further height, her arms lifting to block passage.<strong>"The guard has done nothing but seen to my safety."</strong>Comes her firm remark, though Ox's words were probably in the defense of Crow - a guard, mayhaps?<strong>"He and I were just seeing what bothered your friend. He seems to have made a promise he could not keep, though I am sure he means to pay it back sometime."</strong>She could... be naive. Very much so, not quite detecting that Crow wasn't meaning to every keep the promise he'd made.<br/><br/>In all likelyhood she probably could just be grabbed, lifted, and set to one side by either of those men. But she'd seen fist-fights born from arguments, and she doubted either of them would end up better off despite winning. Just as she was about to, perhaps, say more... The sudden chorus and din from nearby drawing her attention. The woman shifts uncomfortably at the words being yelled and the way the masses turned so quickly.<strong>"That is... not the right kind of laughter,"</strong>she breathes to herself, shaking her head to cause her dark tresses to waver over her face. The masses seemed... unpleasant. Sadistic. Chaotic. Not the kind she'd expected from a city so renowned. Of course, she ends up catching site of several attrac-<em>Normal. Normal women.</em>Eyeing them as they were thrown unceremoniously before the prior two.<em>"What's happening in there? I thought it was just a fight pit."</em>