The Konti usually took more care, even in a city such as River fall, for her own safety. She may have been a 90 year old fortune teller, but her size and appearance led many to believe she could be taken advantage of in more ways than one. It was why she liked remaining hidden. Apparently this evening, however, she was not doing a bang up job of that. She felt a hand on her shoulder all of a sudden, and was spun harshly around to face a group of three men, not Akalaks, but human...or near human men, all greasy smiles and threatening postures. The seer sighed softly, and reached a hand deep within the darkness of her cloak, her mind not even processing the vulgar suggestive things they said to her, slender fingers sliding around the hilt of her Suvai. Her dismissive and apathetic manner was obviously not impressing the thugs, the leader of whom, shoved her against the wall and started tearing at her cloak. Shiva ducked out of the loose fabric, under his grip and as the man lunged for her she curled herself up and forced him to trip over her, toppling over and smashing into a series of abandoned wooden crates that snapped like match sticks, creating a bit of a ruckus as the Konti rose, cloak gone, to face her attackers. Her hair was braided, and whipped around her shoulder, her form clothed in a long sleeved cotton shirt with slitted sleeves, and a flowing skirt that swirled around her form as she turned, purple hued though it was hard to tell in the dank alley. |