Lys: Perception

Cathair found them good places. Only just out of the way of the others, and very close to the proceedings. The Guttersnipe's concoction was starting to take effect- Aithne did not feel near so uncomfortable as she had before. The aromatic steam coming from the hot cider did much to help, too. She thought she could handle what was to come.

Surely they won't be executing them right here. We've only just finished scrubbing out the last bits of blood from this floor.

"Cathair, would you hold this a moment? I've just discovered I'm an absolute wreck." She handed Cathair her mug, and he took it, though not without comment. "Nonsense," he said. "You look beautiful."

She smiled. "Aww, you're sweet. But you see me from different eyes, Gra. I'll not be bringing shame upon us by standing here like a bedraggled scullery maid."

Pulling her hair back, she tied it with a leather thong which was previously around her wrist. She straightened her gown, smoothing it out as best she could, and re-folded and re-pinned her cloak in a manner worthy of a bard, not a cold working-maid.

"There. How's that?" she asked, taking back her cup.

Cathair eyed her with a grim expression. "You were right. You looked horrible earlier. Good thing you fixed yourself up."

Aithne was incredulous. "Why you... I ought to..." But he only smiled at her, eyes dancing with laughter. She mock-shoved him and he gave ground, only to catch the hand holding her cup and keep it from sloshing. "Careful, Gra. And hush! I think they're about to begin."

Aithne obeyed, turning to pay attention to the proceedings.