Date Posted:20:56:55 07/16/01 Mon Author: Anne O'Leary Subject:
Door swinging open, the young woman steps into the Inn, damp curls of pale gold dangling over china blue eyes. Slender digits rising to push them aside, curt nod of greeting is given to the Lady nearby. A smile plays upon full lips, expression bright despite her wet garments.
Hurrying up the stairs, she strips off the rain soaked gown and hangs it up to dry. Then drying herself off, she pulls on a light nightdress of a sheer, white material.
Grabbing her hairbrush, she settles down on the cushioned window seat and began running the brush through her thick curls. Humming an Irish tune to herself, her gaze wanders lazily over the moonlight washed terrain.
