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[[OOC: Haring 9th, midday, somewhere on the route between Amaranthine and Orzammar]] Cauthrien
One of the upsides of being a Grey Warden was guaranteed breaks for meals. If their group had been required to ignore midday sustenance in order to keep up their pace, everybody would have been fighting within a couple of miles. It was better for everyone for them to sit, eat quickly, and then get back on the horses rather than trying to eat and ride and consequently lose a third of their party’s tongues.
It had been cold and grim since leaving Amaranthine and Sofia was already feeling the lack of a regular bath. She had washed in freezing streams every night they had camped, which had helped, although it had not warmed her disposition towards Fereldan’s climate. She hadn’t complained, though, simply taking opportunities to smarten herself up whenever she could. Noon was such an occasion, and after the essentials of food and checking over the horses had been done, Sofia used the time that the weapon-wielders spent making sure their blades were not frosted into their scabbards to touch up her appearance.
She carried a small handmirror, and dug in Garalei’s saddlebag for the few small pots she kept aside for her personal use. With a sweep of colour over each eye and her cheeks freshly reddened, she started to feel more like herself. A fistful of snow to the back of her neck made her feel less sticky from the exertions of the ride. The damp air was causing her curls to explode, so she wound a pair of silver clasps in it to keep it back.
The mirror also revealed that her lipstick had started to fade from the morning’s application; opening her mouth slightly, Sofia began to apply the carmine. Very carefully, as it was quite expensive and she didn’t know how much access to makeup the dwarves might have. Perhaps the ones that actually lived beneath the stone had more of an interest in it than the surfacers she’d met previously.
She was aware that she was getting some strange looks, but ignored them and focused on finishing up. She would not hold up the group over her appearance; but she would take whatever time she did have for it.
One of the upsides of being a Grey Warden was guaranteed breaks for meals. If their group had been required to ignore midday sustenance in order to keep up their pace, everybody would have been fighting within a couple of miles. It was better for everyone for them to sit, eat quickly, and then get back on the horses rather than trying to eat and ride and consequently lose a third of their party’s tongues.
It had been cold and grim since leaving Amaranthine and Sofia was already feeling the lack of a regular bath. She had washed in freezing streams every night they had camped, which had helped, although it had not warmed her disposition towards Fereldan’s climate. She hadn’t complained, though, simply taking opportunities to smarten herself up whenever she could. Noon was such an occasion, and after the essentials of food and checking over the horses had been done, Sofia used the time that the weapon-wielders spent making sure their blades were not frosted into their scabbards to touch up her appearance.
She carried a small handmirror, and dug in Garalei’s saddlebag for the few small pots she kept aside for her personal use. With a sweep of colour over each eye and her cheeks freshly reddened, she started to feel more like herself. A fistful of snow to the back of her neck made her feel less sticky from the exertions of the ride. The damp air was causing her curls to explode, so she wound a pair of silver clasps in it to keep it back.
The mirror also revealed that her lipstick had started to fade from the morning’s application; opening her mouth slightly, Sofia began to apply the carmine. Very carefully, as it was quite expensive and she didn’t know how much access to makeup the dwarves might have. Perhaps the ones that actually lived beneath the stone had more of an interest in it than the surfacers she’d met previously.
She was aware that she was getting some strange looks, but ignored them and focused on finishing up. She would not hold up the group over her appearance; but she would take whatever time she did have for it.
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