[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 -> Shadowell Manor: Front of Manor Outside
[color=a187be][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] Constitution, Charisma, Intelligence, Wisdom
[color=a187be][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 4
[color=a187be] ≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]
	It seemed she had attracted the attention of yet another. [color=a187be]"Chanteuse Amaranthine is what I am to refer to myself as."[/color] It was a simple statement in a wobbly but silvery voice. Eyes turning downcast she braced as the engine started to speed up. Body tensing as it lurched forward and a chill running to the bone as the freezing air pushed over her skin. It was hard to hold still. The moving train, the chilled air, the wind. That and more made it for a rather miserable next few minutes. Someone was trying to sketch her so despite all this she did her best to remain as statuesque as humanly possible. By the time the train stopped her teeth were chattering. 

	Trembling she turned to face the one that had been placing her visage to charcoaled memory. It was an astounding representation and seemed to capture how she was feeling despite the mask. [color=a187be]"Remarkable,"[/color] she quavered as her fingers took the paper. [color=a187be]"Thank you ever so much."[/color] Large doe eyes locking with his as she expressed her gratitude before slipping it delicately into her satchel, it laid on top pieces of sheet music. Closing it swiftly she rose and gave a nervous smile before turning and tottering towards the manor. 

	Eyes turning upwards and then back at the man addressing them. Her ears picked up what others were speaking but she simple stood there clutching the bag to her chest with one hand and the other grasping at the instrument case she was carrying. Others might have had no issues being in Shadowell. Perhaps they were too self involved, perhaps they were braver, perhaps they were shallow. Many appeared to exude some sort of assurance. Chanteuse Amaranthine did not. Fear was worn openly beneath the mask even as she stepped closer to the stairs. A thought tickled the back of her mind but she was far to distracted by situation and circumstance to pay is much attention. Keeping her mouth shut she waited for them to be allowed into the manor itself. A desire to be out of the cold could be a powerful thing when warring against other things that should have ones attention.