
Mysterious Person at the Tavern
Rising from his place in the corner, a man smoked from his pipe, the embers briefly lighting the sharp features of his face. He approached casually, keeping the hood of his cloak to shroud his face. His worn leather boots and leather armor revealed him to be a seasoned adventurer. He set out a hand onto the bar, his voice just loud enough over the tavern chatter. "Kaeri, may we speak?" On his finger he bore a strange ring, with some sort of serpents intertwined. He gestured toward a table in the corner. I hesitated, taking a moment to take stock of what weaponry I could see beneath his cloak. My intuition never failed me -- this was someone who held no ill will towards me. As further comfort, no brigand or thief would ask speak to someone with such courtesy. Rising from my seat, I followed the stranger.
Wish I could change this about myself
Some days when I lay myself down to sleep, my mind wanders to thoughts of my body, of my physical form. Muscles aching, bones settling… and yet its features that I possess, the shapely forms that make up who I am… it makes me uneasy. I wear loose fitting clothes that hide my shape, keeping to trousers and simple clothes. Many townsfolk simply call me half-elf, or those who know me simply call me by my name. That is how I would have it. But only I know, as I lay under this thin blanket, that my body is not the way I wish it to be. To be free of these stupid features, to not have leery-eyed men ogling me. I'd much prefer their eyes reflect confusion.