[ The tavern looks like any number of ones she's visited, stayed in - sometimes hidden in, in times of need. It's not so different from the ones in her lands, which is perhaps what had drawn her to that reflection in the first place. Not quite a glimpse of home but... almost.
However, she can also read the atmosphere all too well, having been the subject of similar whispers herself many a time. She remembers all too well the feeling of shrinking back into the shadows of her cloak, trying to hide her face, her hair, hoping to go unnoticed. To just be left alone.
Sometimes it worked. But she wasn't sure this was one of those times. Even though she didn't know the pair of men seated at the table - the source of the whispers - there's something in her that bristles with protective indignation all the same, stepping forward as if she could do something about it and forgetting that this was just a dream of a memory. ]
no subject
However, she can also read the atmosphere all too well, having been the subject of similar whispers herself many a time. She remembers all too well the feeling of shrinking back into the shadows of her cloak, trying to hide her face, her hair, hoping to go unnoticed. To just be left alone.
Sometimes it worked. But she wasn't sure this was one of those times. Even though she didn't know the pair of men seated at the table - the source of the whispers - there's something in her that bristles with protective indignation all the same, stepping forward as if she could do something about it and forgetting that this was just a dream of a memory. ]