Fitting to the Mold

---- Dalen Capital, Gularzob's Shop. Mid-afternoon, 0 DSTR ----

The burning desire to return to her homeland continued to rise with the of communication between her, and the people of Dalen. It seemed that Artem could only open old wounds. Their constant banter, their flirtatious talks, and their ongoing charade made her hungry for more. A Pandora’s box, if you will. Now having a taste of what being social could bring, she was thirsty for more.

Slowly nodding along with Gular’s speech, she took in a breath and shrugged. “Your true allegiance seems to be with your kind,” Winifred looked over at Artem with a soft smile before continuing, “as is mine.”

Watching him look over the blade, she laughed at the humor they both found in her word choice. It had not served its purpose, or any purpose for that matter. She had hardly had the chance to use it on anyone, if she could even come up with the wits to use it on anyone to begin with. Chewing on her lip, Winifred thumbed the collar of her robe and squinted at the blade. Looking back up at him with a brow raised, “I can’t say I have any funds on me. Many of my belongings are of high value, just not with me here. My home is on the cusp of Verden, where I have originals of books, fine metals and jewels, antiques from long ago.”

Before she had the chance to continue her explanation of said wealth, she was interrupted by Lars’ vocals. Stepping away from the counter, Winifred joined Artem as his side while taking in the beautiful garments. Placing a hand over the ‘o’ that her lips formed, she smiled and squealed girlishly. “Oh, Lars! It is beautiful!” Skipping towards the clothes, she glided her fingers gently over the fabric. Looking at Artem’s outfit, she giggled and turned to him. “It is certainly a change.”