"You dropped this," spoke a mechanical monotone emanating from a rather spooky looking Blood Knight wearing a helmet with only one hole to look through and with ram horns embedded on the sides.
Gran'dyne nearly jumped out of her skin as the ominously sounding, monotoned vocals echoed through the air and to the earring adorned elven ears. She really needed to stop coming to the Row. She had no purpose there anymore. It had however, had been the first place within the city that she had met people, strangers no doubt that had somehow managed to become befriended or in other circumstance, enemies to the perpetual cause that was her existence. She had her first assault there… First real injury. First randomly given for no evident reason insult, and also her first and not last near sexual harassment.. Yeah, we don’t know why she goes back, the familiar setting, or perhaps it’s all she knows.
Gran'dyne was never one to be rude on purpose, which would mean not ever if she could help it. However she hasn’t been able to quiet the sudden outburst that escaped from her lips with a heavy rasp-sounding yelp. “Shit!“
It didn’t sound right or politically correct coming from her vocals or petite form, but alas it had spewed, ever so bitter as the curse rolled from her tongue. She turned quickly, as anyone who felt startled or threatened might. It was completely obvious she had instant reservations about what the fel had just so awkwardly transpired. She manages to force a smile whilst nonchalantly swallowing a big gulp of shame, only hoping through that through her momentarily faltered demeanor that she hadn’t insulted the poor.. Scary fellow
“I am so terribly sorry.. I did not, absolutely, did not mean to respond like that. You startled me is all..” Was the terrible excuse that she had given. Golden hues observed the warrior-looking man, awaiting his reaction though sheepishly she continued on after remembering he’d just offered to return something, a possession she had supposedly lost. To her knowledge she hadn’t been missing any valuables or brought anything worth a murlock for that matter out this particular evening. “Something of mine? Oh no, you must be mis-t-ak-en…” She stuttered the word with a little too much emphasis on the ending as he had shown her a very private portrait of herself. Complete, undoubtable, undenying embarrassment wallowed through her features in the form of vibrant pink pigments that flushed the porcelain apples and rendered the pink hues a singular-purposed concept: mortified.
“That?.. Is not me..” She muttered in a pathetic attempt to sway his perception - snatching the photo from his animated gauntlet.
Yes it was. And oddly enough, she had ZERO recollection as to why and what purpose it was created, and for whom the photo was meant for.