[@Silvan Haven][@Write][@HereComesTheSnow][@Plank Sinatra]

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The initial impressions of the cruise ship did little to rectify Gratia Mindaro's already-established opinions on the entire matter. It was essentially a sanctuary for the upper classes (and the uncouth, nouveau-riche fucktards who irresponsibly splurged their disposable incomes in a crass desire to pretend as if they were actually important rather than pathetic snobs), one with activities suited far more for the lowly masses than her. The interests of her inferiors were, after all, of no importance to her. Her unfortunate presence on board was the result of other factors rather than any desires.

She quietly made her way around a corner, impassively circling past a violet-haired little girl in a hoodie in order to climb the cold stone steps to the upper levels of the ship. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NrNeBQURRBM]Rich, mellifluous melodies[/url] drifted into her ears from the cool black headphones that were an ever-present component of her appearance, the device sitting comfortably around her head and isolating her from the incessant chatter and irritants of the lessers.

What was more prominent about Gratia, however, was the fact that the clothes she had chosen to don for the night were completely different to the outfit she was most associated with. Although her initial course of action upon arrival had been to ensure the safe delivery of all her luggage, the Mistralese girl had decided to also get changed, deeming her signature turtleneck and winter coat to be unnecessary in such a place. Instead, she was now wearing an incredibly basic, maroon t-shirt and a pair of simple jeans, evoking a sense of casualness that, while still present in her usual clothes, was frequently drowned out by the stoic, aloof aura that constantly permeated the air around her.

Her steps took her out onto the balcony, the sudden onrush of air whipping coldly against the now-uncovered pale skin of her forearms. As expected, the air was tinged with the scent of salt and seaspray. It may not have been the same air as her home in Mistral, but for now, on a cruise she held little interest for, it would be a suitable replacement.

It wasn't like she had any better shit to do than "smell the roses".