how did this asylum become where i sleep
At the scrape of the chair sliding across the floor, Alys jumped. The inn was so loud and she'd been so engrossed in her notes that she hadn't noticed the stranger approach. She clapped her journal shut, hoping that the ink was dry, and scowled at the stranger who had come to join her. He was a man about her age, with dark hair and light brown skin. And he most certainly was not welcome.
Alys gathered her cards quickly and resentfully, suddenly self-conscious. It was not uncommon for her gift to be scoffed at and looked down upon, and she wasn't in the mood for judgement today. "It is busy tonight," she conceded gruffly. She eyed the man warily, shuffling her cards absently as she thought. It had been a while since she had read for another, but she had no way of knowing if the stranger was interested.
Alys gathered her cards quickly and resentfully, suddenly self-conscious. It was not uncommon for her gift to be scoffed at and looked down upon, and she wasn't in the mood for judgement today. "It is busy tonight," she conceded gruffly. She eyed the man warily, shuffling her cards absently as she thought. It had been a while since she had read for another, but she had no way of knowing if the stranger was interested.
Alys
