The figure mutters over their workâfussing with several items laid out upon a cloth-draped surface: a stem of white flowers, a dagger in a scabbard, and... a few stalks of wheat?
"No, that's a bit much... Perhaps...?"
Their hands move quick and birdlike, yet within the curve of their spine is a stillness. A contemplative air rests over their shoulders with all the solemnity of the gray cloak spilling down their narrow frame.