Re: FUZZY: Midmarch Religious Council
She laughed faintly and shortly at the bishop's jest. Semi-jest? Maybe, he really would douse him...
She regarded the inebriated man, and a memory stirred. Something she'd overheard, back home, about a wastrel, a rake, with a peacock in tow...
"I think he's like me," she began. And then realized how that might be misconstrued.
"I mean, I'm not like that," she amended hastily. "But, I believe he's distant kin of Medvyed." On the heels of saying so she wanted to slap her forehead. Acavna! Why did I even mention it? No one needs to know that, while I'm trying to establish credibility...