Kylessa Hollybough stepped from the rain into the Beer Golem alone.  She paused in the tavern's entrance hall as the mud and water sloshed off of her grey-green cloak (with the ___ clasp?)  A delicate, long fingered, white gold hand--short, neatly manicured nails lacquered emerald green--ran down the hem of the cloak with bittersweet ponderence.<br/><br/><i>Cloak and boots.</i>She pressed the dry, magically warm hood against her cheek.<i>Princely gifts, a noble's ransom, quite, practical, and beautifully warm, I shouldn't be so ungrateful, but I'd trade them both to hear one Waterdhavien elf girl giggle at something I said.  It's probably my fault anyway.</i><br/><br/>The miserable girl pulled down her hood and her hair flashed a mirror of the distant fire light.  She folded the thistledown cloak and tucked it into her sash where it disappeared into a secret, magically deep pocket.  A shift of her hip assured her that the weight of her Thinblade was comfortable on her hip, and she sniffed at herself for being so gloomy as to think she might need it here.  Or maybe it was hope that she might repay this mixed bunch for the warmth they showed her when she’d chased away all the warmth her own people offered in favor of the security of the distant and unapproachable heroine watching over them night and day.<br/>Stepping out into the light, the shadows reluctantly released her dark pine green-almost black-kneel length skirt and half-tunic with the red and gold holly berries sewn to the holly-brocade trim.  Clean, calf-high, soft boots hugged her legs, and tight, white gold skin flashed between knees and skirt.  The short sleeved tunic fell just bellow her small, pert breasts.  For an instant she lifted a hand up her taut belly to cover the life like tattoo of a cheetah’s paw reaching around her back to claw at the emerald stud piercing her navel.<br/>She dismissed the notion.<i>I wouldn’t change what I was if I could.  I won’t hide it here.</i><br/>