-The Campfire of Zyrket-

...Is that why I don’t feel anything?

The fire-pit burned vividly as it illuminated the tent with a glow like the sunset. Hyrtsolk was sat quaintly upon a satin pillow, surrounding her - an array of small bottles containing liquids of ineffable hues. Some glittered and sparkled as the firelight danced against them, others looked like complex marbling; it was as if there was no end to the extravagant assortment of patterns these vials contained. “What would you pick..?” She spoke aloud. “..Something to match my outfit? Hmm..Maybe.” A critical finger glided across them, bottled plucked in no specific fashion. “But what about my hair? Perhaps my eyes?” She lifted a bottle, holding it to that radiant light. Milky whites focusing upon its shadowy silhouette. “...P-perhaps.” Clink. As clear as glass it spilled like a flowing river, crystalline and sparkling; pooling pliantly into soft quaking palms - soon to become the sea. Her cries faint and distant like the seagulls afar; and those vibrant bottles no different to their outlines as they travel in formation into the setting sun.

“Who says you can’t be fashionable and functional?”

I'm just curious how people work theirs out because I can stumble on a menu for a bar/tavern for a slice of chocolate cake and they're asking 100gil for it. Like £10 for a slice? Oouff. GRANTED however, there could be reasons for this like inflation and taxes.. supply and demand but we don't have to get that deep.

I haven’t really been rping lately with life and all. But I have been leveling all my jobs to 70. I’m currently on my final job. PALADIN (gags) which is at 55. But it’s a victory lap! Have some random screenies