[ Aerin's rarely seen a city elf so fashionably dressed. Even the elven servants at Highever, compensated for their services and distinguishable from those who rarely left the alienages, did not afford cloth so well cut and fine. If this were anywhere else she would have stared at him for it: unsubtle, obvious. She still stares at him now. Only this time it's that he's the most familiar thing out of all of this, despite his unusual way of dress.
She's at least as obviously out of place as he is, still dressed in her Warden blues (though she's shed a few layers of plate armor) with her two-handed broadsword secure on her back. And Aerin certainly feels out of place. But this is why she gravitates towards at least the most familiar sight she has, settling cross-legged among the crowd of children and propping her chin on her fist. ]
kauto
She's at least as obviously out of place as he is, still dressed in her Warden blues (though she's shed a few layers of plate armor) with her two-handed broadsword secure on her back. And Aerin certainly feels out of place. But this is why she gravitates towards at least the most familiar sight she has, settling cross-legged among the crowd of children and propping her chin on her fist. ]
You must be quite a storyteller.