[ Anne isn't the type to stop what she's doing just because she senses someone watching, and indeed when the softly gliding shape turns the corner, she only gives it a cursory enough look from under the brim of her (disappointingly little) hat to make sure that it's not coming too close. She isn't armed like she'd prefer to be but she's fought with less, so while the little flare of vulnerability spikes in Anne, she slams it down and only looks up again when she's spoken to.
When she does, her sneer is suddenly interrupted by a look of shock as she takes in a creature like none she's ever imagined, let alone seen. Anne has little imagination, as a rule, and while she's seen some strangeness already here, it's nothing like those wings. Those eyes. Whatever she's wearing on her head. Is that what the rich fucks wear here? If it isn't she hasn't seen anyone like her yet.
When she finally gathers herself enough to speak, the snarl comes back quickly. ]
They can try.
[ She dares them to. Her tone of voice dares this thing to make something of it. That's about the only response Anne ever has to threats, both minor and truly dangerous. Both are indistinguishable to her because the required response is always the same: prove that you aren't weak. In a way, she relishes any opportunity to prove to the world that she isn't afraid of it. Because she very much is.
She finally stops what she's doing and drops a chunk of gold into her bag, then stands up slowly like she's being held at the end of a pistol. ]
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When she does, her sneer is suddenly interrupted by a look of shock as she takes in a creature like none she's ever imagined, let alone seen. Anne has little imagination, as a rule, and while she's seen some strangeness already here, it's nothing like those wings. Those eyes. Whatever she's wearing on her head. Is that what the rich fucks wear here? If it isn't she hasn't seen anyone like her yet.
When she finally gathers herself enough to speak, the snarl comes back quickly. ]
They can try.
[ She dares them to. Her tone of voice dares this thing to make something of it. That's about the only response Anne ever has to threats, both minor and truly dangerous. Both are indistinguishable to her because the required response is always the same: prove that you aren't weak. In a way, she relishes any opportunity to prove to the world that she isn't afraid of it. Because she very much is.
She finally stops what she's doing and drops a chunk of gold into her bag, then stands up slowly like she's being held at the end of a pistol. ]
You gonna tell them?