Beneath the cover of her hood she was shielded from the evening rain, but that did little to help her now waterlogged boots that had thoroughly soaked through to her feet. The cobblestone streets had done little to prevent such a happening, and in fact small dips in the streets had only exasperated the issue with puddles dotted here and there. Yet despite the dampness and misery of the weather, the populace of this place seemed unhindered, as though they hardly took notice. Nyrial imagined that the port city experienced quite a bit of this weather. Its place within the bay in the shadow of the mountains likely played into this, or so the assimilated memory of the Mistress' musings led her to think. Whatever the reason was, it was miserable, and she was long past beginning to look for an inn to take up refuge for the remainder of the evening. There'd be no hunting tonight, not with her wardrobe like this, that was for certain.
She moved the make her way across the street, but she was promptly cut off by a passing horse and carriage. Both horse and driver protested to her sudden appearance, and she resisted the urge to hiss at them in response. Instead she watched them go, and took extra care in looking both ways to avoid a similar interaction again. Making her way safely across the street, she was relieved to find herself beneath the bastion of an inn's porch canopy as the gentle rain of the evening turned into a downpour. She looked out into the street, and still the people moved about as though nothing had changed.
She pulled her hood back, and soaked as it was it slapped against her back. And though it had done its part in shrouding her from the rain, still her hair was damp. And though she was cold and wet from the weather, she took a moment to remain there and listen as the rain fell on the streets. She was comforted by the droning sound of it, by the seemingly aimless meandering of the people passing by. She rested her palms on the railing and leaned there for a time.
She moved the make her way across the street, but she was promptly cut off by a passing horse and carriage. Both horse and driver protested to her sudden appearance, and she resisted the urge to hiss at them in response. Instead she watched them go, and took extra care in looking both ways to avoid a similar interaction again. Making her way safely across the street, she was relieved to find herself beneath the bastion of an inn's porch canopy as the gentle rain of the evening turned into a downpour. She looked out into the street, and still the people moved about as though nothing had changed.
She pulled her hood back, and soaked as it was it slapped against her back. And though it had done its part in shrouding her from the rain, still her hair was damp. And though she was cold and wet from the weather, she took a moment to remain there and listen as the rain fell on the streets. She was comforted by the droning sound of it, by the seemingly aimless meandering of the people passing by. She rested her palms on the railing and leaned there for a time.
