by Cpt._Funkotron » Sat Aug 18, 2018 3:07 am
Rosamund builds a small fire, and lays out her bedroll. She unclasps the cloak from around her shoulders and uses it as a blanket. She frees her sword from it's scabard, and lays it down on the bedroll, under the blanket, within quick reach. She sits down near the fire so as to be sure to be illuminated by it, but facing half away from it, being sure to keep her eyes pointed into the darkness so as not to blind herself. She munches on some bread and salted meat for her supper.
"I'll feed you in the morning if nothing happens, but if trouble comes calling we'll want you on an empty stomach." she winks and smiles at Hecate.
She continues to sit upright, on her knees, mostly in the open air, to maximize her visibility to anything or anyone that may be looking in from the dark woods, the cloak only covering her legs and concealing the sword and her side. At one point she fills a bowl from her water skin and unlaces the dress down to her waist in order to wash up. She takes a good long time to do it, as long as she can justify, periodically swiveling her head as she washes to scan the treeline for movement. To an observer, she hopes, this would appear to be a young maiden at her most vulnerable. What she knows, and what she hopes her quarry doesn't know, is that she is not half-wearing an ordinary dress. The bottom of the dress is secured firmly to her hips, belted tightly around her waist by a small but strong cord of velvet, the half-worn garment is in no danger of hindering her movement if she needs to fight, and unlike most maidens, neither is her modesty. To prolong the picture she is trying to create, after washing, she also unbraids, washes, and rebraids her hair without covering up first, again taking as long as possible to do so. Since she is so near the fire, the cold night air which would ordinarily make this performance uncomfortable, does not bother her much. She sings during this entire process, projecting with her diaphragm to be well heard but not exactly belting for the cheap seats, to the effect of making her laboriously slow ministrations seem more natural, make her appear more like a lady than a knight, and to draw even more attention to her location if she was not already being watched.
When she cannot possibly spend any more time washing her face and torso or tending to her brown curls, she takes her hand mirror, and while she sings, pretends to be enamored with her own reflection like Narcissus, while actually using it to keep an eye on the woods behind her.
She gives this entire display altogether a little over two hours. If nothing comes of it, she will cover herself back up, crawl under the blanket, and pretend to sleep for a few more hours still, keeping her ears open if not her eyes, before eventually drifting off for real.
Should I roll Singing? And/Or Appearance?