[out in the moonlight, with no one to see him, francel has at least thought to open his collar and let in some of the night air — but the cloth still obscures most of his neck from view, and he's still not comfortable, not really, with his hands. his nails are sharp and pointed; a smattering of white scales has broken out near his knuckles.
he keeps his palms face-up as he reaches out to take a glass of water.]
...With luck, no Garlean madmen will tempt the ire of Menphina's hound in these lands.
[francel knows a little more about dalamud's fall than most men in ishgard, it seems.]
moving in;
he keeps his palms face-up as he reaches out to take a glass of water.]
...With luck, no Garlean madmen will tempt the ire of Menphina's hound in these lands.
[francel knows a little more about dalamud's fall than most men in ishgard, it seems.]