[right][h3][b][i][color=a187be]Chanteuse Amaranthine[/color][/i][/b][/h3][color=a187be]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color]
[color=a187be][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Shadowell Grounds: Seat I
[color=a187be][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] Wisdom, Perception, Charisma, Constitution
[color=a187be][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 4
[color=a187be] ≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]
	Hair falling over her shoulders, Amaranthine sharply looked out straight in front of her as she felt someone sit down next to her. Her large cinnamon eyes wide as she remained bent and hunched over, clutching the items resting in her lap. She had but a moment ago sat down and there was no one even within spitting distance of her. Now there was someone. A blink of the eye and they were focused to her left. She spotted the bare hands holding a sketch book and drawing utensil. Another blink and her head tilted just enough to see the mask covering half his face. Her eyes flickered some what but she nodded in agreement. [color=a187be]"If you desire so, I am not one to stop you."[/color] Her words seemed to hold a staccato rhythm to them as she spoke. 

	While her attention was towards the man whose mask extended to nearly brushing the back of her shoulder, she felt another come close and sit down. Her head turning sharply and looking over towards him. Still ever remaining hunched over. This one in white with a black mask. Her hear turned back to the first, black with a white mask. Slowly she pushed herself up and sat straight backed in her seat, hair falling over her shoulders as her fingers curled over the case in her lap. It was a stark contrast to the silver of the mask. A chill ran up her back and she shivered violently as a cloud of breath rose up from her lips, that wear painted the color of dark spices, as they parted.