Amyn grinned widely. "Queen o'Mirkwood, ask your friends. I think they know me!"
"Why did I say that?" frowned Amyn to herself. She crossed her arms tightly and let her face return to its usual blank expression. She rarely smiled, it kind of looked unatural.
"And you?" she asked grimly. There was a defiance in her bright silver eyes, challenge and anger. She tossed back her long hair and waited.
When there was no responce, she frowned and repeated her question.
"Who- are- you..." she intoned slowly. Still, no reply. The elf stared at her, weaving back and forth as though he had just come off a swing and was still rocking from the motion. Amyn growled in frustration and stalked off, head held high. She was not leaving them, she was testing to see if anyone would come after her. Singing in her magnificent voice, yet under her breath; for she was shy about it, she strolled along the path, away from the huddle. Someone did come after her, but not who she expected...
Hey, Fifth, I hate powergaming, so I only put a tiny bit in for your character. Hope that's ok?
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If nature made you a giver, you are born with your hands and heart open, and though your hands may sometimes be empty, your heart is always full, and you can give things out of that.
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