Between a hut in the process of being built and her sheer lack of motivation to decorate it rearing its ugly head, Vandal has taken to renting a room in the tavern agains just to get away from the stress of making her own home. It's a simple hut lodged in the nooks and crannies of a big tree, it shouldn't be so hard, but she's insistent on making sure it looks as nice as it can possibly be - which also means she's stressing over how nice to make it without it looking unpleasing to the eyes.
Holed up in one of the tavern's many rooms, she crumples another piece of paper and throws it in the trashcan under her desk, scowling as it hits the rim and bounces out - she steps on it instead in frustration before throwing her pencil across the room. It's... irritating. She can't seem to think of a good design for her new house's interior, and sh doesn't dare stay in it looking so bare. It's been at least thirteen attempts of trying to draw something cohesive and pleasing, and she decides she probably needs a drink from the downstairs.
Sliding her chair back, Vandal gets up to her feet and makes a move for her coat - only to remember that she'd left her coat somewhere downstairs, dangling on the coat rack. With a sigh, she rolls up the white sleeves of her dark-brown doublet, tightens the leather vest around her body, and makes her way out of the room, grabbing her tricorn hat by the door as she goes. With it nestled on top of her dark auburn hair, she makes her way through the corridor and has only reached the top of the flight of stairs when a familiar voice rings in her ears.
Green eyes narrowed, Vandal walks the rest of the way down, peering at the bar proper only to find Cleo and Jay sitting on the table - one of which is armed with a bow. "Aren't the both of ya a li'l young to be hangin' out here?" There's no malice in her voice, however. Her lips curl into a comfortable smile, happy enough to see them both, before wandering over to the bar to fill herself a tankard of mead from the barrel's faucet. She lets the frothy concoction reach the brim before turning the handle and lifting it to her lips, letting the bitter-sweat taste sooth her tongue.
When she brings the tankard down, there's a line of froth on her upper lip, which she quickly wipes away with her sleeve. "Huh. Yeah. Where did ya get that, Jay? If I'd known ya both wanted bows, I'd've brought some home from the trading outpost... then again, I should probably do that tomorrow night anyways seeing as you're both pretty interested in it."
Holed up in one of the tavern's many rooms, she crumples another piece of paper and throws it in the trashcan under her desk, scowling as it hits the rim and bounces out - she steps on it instead in frustration before throwing her pencil across the room. It's... irritating. She can't seem to think of a good design for her new house's interior, and sh doesn't dare stay in it looking so bare. It's been at least thirteen attempts of trying to draw something cohesive and pleasing, and she decides she probably needs a drink from the downstairs.
Sliding her chair back, Vandal gets up to her feet and makes a move for her coat - only to remember that she'd left her coat somewhere downstairs, dangling on the coat rack. With a sigh, she rolls up the white sleeves of her dark-brown doublet, tightens the leather vest around her body, and makes her way out of the room, grabbing her tricorn hat by the door as she goes. With it nestled on top of her dark auburn hair, she makes her way through the corridor and has only reached the top of the flight of stairs when a familiar voice rings in her ears.
Green eyes narrowed, Vandal walks the rest of the way down, peering at the bar proper only to find Cleo and Jay sitting on the table - one of which is armed with a bow. "Aren't the both of ya a li'l young to be hangin' out here?" There's no malice in her voice, however. Her lips curl into a comfortable smile, happy enough to see them both, before wandering over to the bar to fill herself a tankard of mead from the barrel's faucet. She lets the frothy concoction reach the brim before turning the handle and lifting it to her lips, letting the bitter-sweat taste sooth her tongue.
When she brings the tankard down, there's a line of froth on her upper lip, which she quickly wipes away with her sleeve. "Huh. Yeah. Where did ya get that, Jay? If I'd known ya both wanted bows, I'd've brought some home from the trading outpost... then again, I should probably do that tomorrow night anyways seeing as you're both pretty interested in it."
I TOLD THAT DEVIL TO TAKE YOU BACK
MAXINE VIENNA "VANDAL" ROUX — TAGS — THE TYPHOON