"Just spit in it and it'll taste good as new." murmured Cecilia, hunched over the near alabaster bar table. Coffee, to her, tastes like freshly-sewn dirt despite how much sugar, sweetener or whipped cream you toss in there. Cafes like this were usually only good for delicious hot chocolate and surfaces to scribble on. Speaking of which, Cecilia was just finishing a little design scrawled on the stone tablet she rests her arms, head and shoulders on. Currently she was working on the tail of a massive griffin with it's glorious mane flowing in the wind as it swats away at the swarm of ants attempting to lock themselves in battle with the beautiful beast. The ants themselves were subtitled, "The Hopeful, the Noble and the Brave," with the violent griffin stated as, "The Conquest." The final touch to the engraving would be a lone ant walking away from the battle. His name was, "The Winner." 

Once finished, she threw herself back to admire it from a viewer's perspective. "Hmm..." she hums, hand digging into her unruly head of hair during her phase of consideration, "Too ominous?" Her finger twirled around the tie of her bright orange bandanna adorning her forehead with a bow offset away from her face. Underneath she wore a long sky blue sundress with maroon ribbons tied on random places of the dress and two red bows on the neck. The skirt of the dress flared out in a sharp hexagonal shape, draping downwards nearly to her knees. Ribbons hung off the edges of the dress in varying lengths and in varying styles from curled to wavy to straight. Below that was a paint-stained pair of dark work jeans, small holes strewn throughout from use. She wore scarlet sneakers with white soles reaching up toward the sides of the show, great for running. Underneath it all, though not easy to discern was a grey tank top splashed in countless shades of paint to the point where the grey was barely noticeable. 

Now loosed from her creative trance she took the time to examine her surroundings once again to notice the teddy bear of a Russian toying with her cleaning tools. "And if I were to win this duel?" Cecilia asked in the most medieval of accents she could drum up. With her mild intrigue she leaned as far back in her tall seat as she could, gripping the lip of the bar with her toes as her only balance. Her hands met at the back of her head, still playing around with the excess of cloth from her bandanna.