| Subject: Oh, yeah, deleted a bunch of old posts |
Author:
Saeven
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Date Posted: 14:47:31 04/03/02 Wed
"A keen observation," Saeven returns sardonically, as the man points out she's a cat. She swishes her tail once, looking upon him with a slightly haughty air. "Though I am none of those. And I am surprised you wouldn't know," she adds with thick sarcasm, "by your keenly intelegent look."
Still, the cat jumps down from the windowsill. As she hits the ground, she reverts into her elfin form. She's a small woman, no taller than five feet or so. Her hair, long and wavey, much like a mane, is a honey-blonde/orange colour, very similar to her fur as a cat and has small, random braids and other such things twined in it. Her head bowed, she dips a curtsy to the northman. When she looks up, she can see that her eyes are a bright green, like maple leaves before the sun, and that on her forehead is a crudely tattooed crescent moon, with three tear drops.
"I am a Phooka of the green hills of Wales," she tells him, "you may call me whatever you wish. It is of little consequence."
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