The Caer Falken Inn

The dark-haired girl sits on the deck of the Sea Spray, enjoying the gentle ebb of waves upon its body. A fishing pole rests lazily across her lap, the line and sinker in the water, her hand gently resting upon it, just on the off chance she get a bite. Her eyes are lost to the waters, in her other hand she holds a rather small bottle which her fingers lightly stroke.

A quiet day, the lap of waves. Pirates a thing of the past, and likely future...but not the now.

She rises, slipping the bottle into a small pouch around her neck, then under her poet's shirt. Taking up the bucket of fish she returns to town, walking at a lazy slow pace she briefly waves at some of the fishermen before slipping into the tavern.