The feeling one had after a nice, long bath was quite refreshing. It was quite the opposite of the grimy, half washed days. After long travels, hard fights, and hardly stopping for rest, Mirannda felt she deserved a long soak, a proper wash, and a night of pleasure. Of course, she had stopped to meditate while at the luxurious bathhouse beforehand. A single, yet fond, memory came unbidden at the conclusion of the meditation of a certain stranger falling out of a tree the last time she had meditated.

Mirannda pushed the thought out of her mind as she dressed for the night. Her black top showed off most of her chest, her stomach, and half of her back. It covered her arms, wrapped around her breasts and clasped closed at the mid of her back. The skirt, with a high slit revealing almost all of her right leg, almost dragged the ground, even with her high heels. Her flaming red hair cascaded down her back in lazy curls.

She enjoyed the click of her heels against the floor as she entered the tavern. Each step seemed to pierce through the din of the crowd, drawing attention to her entrance. Sauntering up to the bar, Mirannda took a seat. ”Spiced wine, hot.” Order now placed, her pale blue eyes went to survey her candidates.