[Perhin comes to a stop before a corner, taking his time to consider both options - go onwards or follow the turn - hand stretched out briefly to receive another portion of rain in his hand. This time he presses his palm against his neck and slides it up to his face, patting it lightly with his fingers a few times before the little ritual is finished. The rain that crosses this city is polluted, and while it's not enough to feel unpleasant, Perhin's instance of self-indulgence would most likely be enough to curl a number of noble lips.
But that's the point of his little outing: no nobles looking for reasons to criticize his every step, no servants or rusalki nervously wondering what he'll do next. Tonight his reputation is all alone.
The beast in the shape of a human, however, is not. Or so the second body of footsteps told him seconds ago.]
no subject
But that's the point of his little outing: no nobles looking for reasons to criticize his every step, no servants or rusalki nervously wondering what he'll do next. Tonight his reputation is all alone.
The beast in the shape of a human, however, is not. Or so the second body of footsteps told him seconds ago.]