Azcadelia Rosan
Azcadelia frowned as Leda stated that she hadn't mentioned her name and when she thought on it, she really didn't. Her words came stumbling out too quickly for her to grasp the meanings of them. "Excuse me, Leda. My name is Azcadelia, you may call me Az or Azzy for short, whatever suits your liking. I must say though, you are looking quite charming this morning," she said, dismissing one of her crimson locs from her face to a neat tuck behind her ear. She was unusually clean today and it was unknown to even she of why. There wasn't any special occasion just another day - she had a feeling nonetheless.
She turned her light gaze back towards the sorrier woman, whose name had been clarified as Haydn. A name that Azcadelia had actually wanted to name a daughter of her own. "It is a pleasure to meet you both," she smiled with her lips slightly pressed then took notice on Haydn's intrigue with the bottle. "Ah, yes this was for you, Haydn. I overheard that you said that the fight was in a bar and it could be assumed that you were a little intoxicated to be fighting in a bar, hmm? So, I picked this up back there. It is labelled 'Pleasant Mornings' and it promises to knock out any lingering after affects of your night before." She whirled the yellow - almost glowing - juices around inside the bottle. The liquid inside was almost the bright yellow of the an egg's yolk. In the whisking of the glass, however, a black swirling of lines could be seen. They were the blackness of her veins from a very overly ambitious amount of Reimancy casting that has left her forehand scared with black veins and her palms and fingertips stained with the ugliness of scorching. Along with this came the dizzy-spells that left her unconscious and unsteady for undefined periods of time.
She turned her light gaze back towards the sorrier woman, whose name had been clarified as Haydn. A name that Azcadelia had actually wanted to name a daughter of her own. "It is a pleasure to meet you both," she smiled with her lips slightly pressed then took notice on Haydn's intrigue with the bottle. "Ah, yes this was for you, Haydn. I overheard that you said that the fight was in a bar and it could be assumed that you were a little intoxicated to be fighting in a bar, hmm? So, I picked this up back there. It is labelled 'Pleasant Mornings' and it promises to knock out any lingering after affects of your night before." She whirled the yellow - almost glowing - juices around inside the bottle. The liquid inside was almost the bright yellow of the an egg's yolk. In the whisking of the glass, however, a black swirling of lines could be seen. They were the blackness of her veins from a very overly ambitious amount of Reimancy casting that has left her forehand scared with black veins and her palms and fingertips stained with the ugliness of scorching. Along with this came the dizzy-spells that left her unconscious and unsteady for undefined periods of time.
