Three months living in Angrboða's cage, then another three studying in Sylvanis. One could say that Althea was something of an expert on matters of - well - most things. All in all nothing had changed except she'd gotten quite good at braiding strands of hair as thick as Aradia's water-retaining thumbs. "Your girlfriend won't stop talking to me about you," she sighed into her wine, observing the festivities from a respectable distance - a balcony overlooking the bazaar. Broad sunhat in place, sunglasses to match. "it's wretched, please ask her to stop."