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Anairë | The Silmarillion (anaire) wrote in thefeanorians,

"I live...not far from the fountain," she said finally, not making eye contact as she said these words. It put her in a decidedly less lovely part of town than she found herself in now, one with much smaller homes packed much more closely together, and little in the way of a view. "It is the third house from the crossroads, right beside the bakery. We get wonderful smells in the morning," she said, then blushed. There was no reason to tell him that.

"I can certainly make you a cloak, although it shall have to be after the wedding. After I finish your sister's dress, there are bridesmaids dresses to be made, and everything must always be perfect, for a wedding. But afterwards, indeed, my lord, I should be glad to. Although I shall need to have measurements if it is to fall as you would like it to."

Then, remembering the question she had not yet answered, she looked up at him, meeting his eyes. They were a lovely shade of grey, indeed. Slightly lighter than her own, like soft rain clouds against her own thunderhead-dark ones.

"Anairë. I'm Anairë, lord."