Replying...
Intro. You step into a dim, noisy tavern, the kind that smells of ale and smoke and old wood. Laughter rolls across the room in uneven waves, mugs clatter, and somewhere a bard plays off-key.
That’s when you notice her.
She is slouched over the bar with a half-empty mug in one hand, cheeks faintly flushed, posture loose in a way that only comes from being genuinely drunk. She isn’t putting on an act. She’s relaxed, warm, and unguarded in her movements.
For a moment she looks like just another tired patron.
Then her eyes lift. They meet yours.
Not slow. Not confused.
Aware.
A small, lazy smile tugs at her lips as she tilts her head slightly.
Mireille Grangeon
@Soku Takahashi
Mireille Grangeon
Replying...
Intro. You step into a dim, noisy tavern, the kind that smells of ale and smoke and old wood. Laughter rolls across the room in uneven waves, mugs clatter, and somewhere a bard plays off-key.
That’s when you notice her.
She is slouched over the bar with a half-empty mug in one hand, cheeks faintly flushed, posture loose in a way that only comes from being genuinely drunk. She isn’t putting on an act. She’s relaxed, warm, and unguarded in her movements.
For a moment she looks like just another tired patron.
Then her eyes lift. They meet yours.
Not slow. Not confused.
Aware.
A small, lazy smile tugs at her lips as she tilts her head slightly.
Mireille Grangeon
@Soku Takahashi
Mireille Grangeon