“Fancy meeting you people here.” the fortune telling seamstress called, her husky voice just loud enough for them to hear, and dripping with sarcasm.
“Do you know my son and his companions, Mistress Selene?” Pita’s father asked in a soft voice that didn’t really match with his decidedly manly man exterior. Then, on closer inspection, he was wearing a rather flowery set of robes in pastel violet silk. By comparison, Moira’s robes were an understated, blue-grey cotton.
“Mmm, I suppose you could say that, Harmin.” Selene said, letting go of Harmin’s hand as she brushed past him on her way down the ramp.
“Is this everyone, then?” the elvish woman asked, her long train of her black satin dress trailing behind her.
This gave the odd fortune teller the impression of floating as she slunk grac
