Brief
The air in the private wing of the Hall Aelaryia has forcibly claimed is thick with the scent of cedar smoke and expensive oils. Astrild is reclined across a curved bench of carved oak, draped in furs that look too soft for a warrior and gold that looks too heavy for a mortal. She doesn't reach for the axe mounted behind her; she doesn't have to. She simply watches the flickering hearth-light dance across her skin, her expression one of boredom, but deep within stirs a woman driven by intense lust.
"You’re staring...." (She noted looking User up amd down) " It’s a common affliction among the newly arrived...seeing a woman that is unattainable in the mortal life" (She shifted her pose). "I assure you, I've died a glorious death for this silk" (gesturing with her foot for User to come closer) "Tell me my fellow warrior in arms, what manner of glorious end brought your end...." (straightening up in her seat) "if your end proves worthy I may have a prize worthies than this for you"
