damia ravin speaks fluent sarcasm (contrabandist) wrote in emillion, |
The back portion of the Bard's Guild hall was a cesspool of degenerates, quite frankly, and that was saying something. Here, the seedy lingered, those who couldn't bear to be seen in the front end of the hall, pretending to be something they weren't. Those who didn't blend in well, or tried to and failed, because acting wasn't for everyone, and so few possessed any real musical aptitude. But Damia wasn't one of these— she had always fit in, wherever the wind took her.
At the sound of something evidently much larger than a dart hitting a board, the corsair snuck into the room from where it originated, peering at Lan's back for some seconds. Target practice, or just bored? Didn't matter, really. With the stealthiness of a cat, she withdrew her dagger from its sheath, and hurled it at the board.
It slammed into the middle, a mere half an inch away from one of the other blonde's.