Snippet #2577752

Lillian looked over with a chuckle hearing Reimel's stomach, hoping that was grumbling due to hunger and not from nerves. She held his hand a tad harder as she lead him through the bustling streets, not wanting to get separated because he was so new to this type of surrounding. Even though he could surely hold his own in a fight, elves seemed to be in high demand amongst slavers and almost every city seemed to hide a black market that would love to drag off a "wild elf" into chains and collars. Lillian on the other hand, though she was not a fan of the city in particular she found it necessary to wander in from time to time to fuel her habits and find employment to there for pay for said interests. She would look over the faces of the others going about their days and shook her head feeling sorry for these zombie like bodies that seemed to just move through the motions of living without the aide of the god overlords that once controlled all like little puppets. Well, that was her theory at least though many didn't believe it and would say it was the ramblings of a drunken druid with PTSD.

She would finally released the elven man's hand as they stood in front of the lion's den, or The Minstral's Mug. Placing her hands upon her hips as she stood in quiet awe of the shabby establishment and blessing the gods, because it did not look all that routy today. Lillian shifted her attentions over to Reimel to gauge his reaction, before giving him a playful probe to the side with her elbow. "Are you hungry?"