[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/VeJLmYq.png[/img]
[b]Time:[/b] 7 pm
[b]Location:[/b] Roshmi -> Leaky Tap and Tavern Inn
[b]Interactions: [/b] Yuka [@princess], Aiko [@CitrusArms], Orias [@Helo]
[b]Equipment:[/b] Nabarra's usual equipment (minus the billhook, stashed behind the bar), Cat mask, poncho.[/center][hr]

Nabarra had been silently tagging along for the day. Her focus was on keeping her head down and her voice low, for a fear nagged at the back of her mind. It was buried under several layers of anger. She found that to be far more palatable. Doubly so, when this fear was so core to her heart, her values, and her esteem. If she got discovered, she would be killed. If she was killed, she could not help with the revolution, and if she could not do that… Well, in her mind, she will have failed. There will be thousands she could never have helped.

She would like to say this fear was behind her now, but as she sat there in the candlelit tavern, it was all she could do to stop herself shaking all over. Sweat was beading on her forehead, concealed by the mask. Her breathing was ragged around the edges, just barely controlled. The gash in her hip burned. She never got it treated. [color=a980d6][i]Should ne’er ‘ave fuckin’ put so much bloody strain on it…[/i][/color]

The stool was hard. Worn. Her armour chafed and her spine was strained. Usually, these things would never bother her, but the mental exhaustion was becoming too much. It was certainly not being set at ease by the hyper little Yuka, constantly chatting or flirting. It only got worse when she started drinking.

Finally, after what felt like a veritable waterfall of comments, Yuka asked her name. Nabarra’s gaze slowly slid over to the demi. She stared for slightly longer than comfortable. [color=a980d6]”Nabarra.”[/color]