"To be most honest, I don't know, either, aside from a little about the ox. Really, he takes care of himself. Eat grass, drink water... I am no sure what else." She shrugged, and eased the back of her dress open; the laces separated more, and then it was off, and she could feel gooseflesh rising on her back. She cursed Ferelden a little more, for it damned cold climate--never mind that it was early summer, as far as the Antivan was concerned, it was nearly arctic.
"Something else? I have no the slightest idea where to start." She looked over her shoulders to see the other woman still brushing her hair; had she not been doing that for quite some time now? But it was beautiful, a golden color Lucressia had always envied a little bit. (It was one of the reasons she spent exhorbitant amounts on blond wigs for disguises, even if her skin tone made blond look a bit strange.) She had the dress held against her chest, for warmth as much as anything else, so she was decent. But her back, if the other woman chanced to look over in the low light, was certainly interesting. A long, narrow tattoo ran the length of her spine, black, twining lines of varying thicknesses starting slightly below her shoulderblades and disappearing underneath the folds of the skirts she still wore.
"Mabari, for instance," she was continuing, "How they are cared for? I would no begin to guess."