Madame Petrana de Cedoux, ( who does not seem like a woman whose only title was ever madame, but her titles were a matter of strong contention even in her own home - she doesn't presume a right to them here, where they matter even less and there is no marius at her side just waiting for someone to refuse to kneel, just waiting for the excuse-- ) who knows well what difference a small remnant of home might make.
( the jet locket that hangs at her throat - the diamond ring that glints upon her finger. she is a pragmatic creature, sensible, adaptive; yet she cannot part with them, though the coin they might fetch would keep her in far lovelier dresses than the one she wears now, spare her the unenviable task of painstakingly washing her softer, finer undergarments each night to protect her unaccustomed skin from the coarse fabrics of the lower classes.
she has been here a little while, and she knows that those who bear the anchor-shards are more likely to be rifters than not. a ser might be a templar, but she thinks not, and she presses his cloakpin into his hand, holding the cloak closed with one hand. )
no subject
( the jet locket that hangs at her throat - the diamond ring that glints upon her finger. she is a pragmatic creature, sensible, adaptive; yet she cannot part with them, though the coin they might fetch would keep her in far lovelier dresses than the one she wears now, spare her the unenviable task of painstakingly washing her softer, finer undergarments each night to protect her unaccustomed skin from the coarse fabrics of the lower classes.
she has been here a little while, and she knows that those who bear the anchor-shards are more likely to be rifters than not. a ser might be a templar, but she thinks not, and she presses his cloakpin into his hand, holding the cloak closed with one hand. )