They had arrived in Stormwind two days ago. Since then, Niquisse explored, trying to figure out the layout. The stores were terrible. So few of the luxuries she was accustomed to. And that bed in the inn! It was lumpy and smelled like some sort of animal fur. There were no carpets and all the tables were too tall. She sighed and continued down the road.

She wandered into a section of the city that appeared to have all violet rooftops. Curious, she thought to herself. It appears that each section of this city maintains a color scheme. That could be quite handy. She turned the corner into one of the tunnels. As she left it, her eyes opened wide. Grass! This area has grass! Giggling a little, she followed the curved path. She stopped a moment, thinking to herself, wait, that’s right, I’ve been in this area before. Gilræn and I were here our first night in the city. It ran to an area with a little well, surrounded by benches. Looking around, Niquisse spotted a little sign above a doorway. The Slaughtered Lamb. She moved to investigate. She could feel it as soon as she crossed the threshold. Void energy, seeping up through the floorboards. She looked at the man behind the counter and he nodded. Pointing to a small door in the back, he turned to the customer in front of him again.

I’ll have to come back and look at this. Perhaps I can find an instructor here. She curtsied to the man, her shimmering indigo hair falling in front of her face. She pushed it aside, revealing her pale features again. I need to find a place to buy my supplies first. Does no one here value beautiful clothing? Or are the tailors here not interested in taking the time? She wondered if she would be able to find work here. The styles were not what she was accustomed to. But then again…maybe they just haven’t seen things like mine. I could try opening my own shop! She squealed and the people chatting by a nearby building turned to stare at her.

Shrinking herself down even smaller than her normally tiny frame, she kept moving. She found herself in front of the tavern she and Gilræn had eaten at the first night here. She turned back, trying to create an image of the turns and how it all connected. With a shrug, she resigned herself to being lost for a while longer. Once again, she glanced over the signs when she finally spotted what seemed to be the right place. Climbing the small ramp, she entered a clothing store. The variety was simply in design, but well made. Her fingers ran lightly over the fabrics, the detailing. As she turned to the other side, a little sign was visible on the counter top.

Seamstress wanted. Please ask to see Wynne.

With an enormous smile, she snatched up the sign and moved to the woman behind a rack of hats. Maybe she could find a way to fit in after all. I wonder if the have a ballet here…