[ the urge to throw herself eagerly upon the bookshelves wars valiantly with ness' complete lack of sea legs for what amounts to a rather lengthy pause between gwenaëlle's gesture and her eventual movement. a none-too-gentle and insistent sway of the boat beneath them eventually makes the choice for her, but even as she drops onto the sofa she leans forward, peering at the cabinets to try to glean titles. ]

I could not avoid its apparence in—my previous life, [ perhaps that's the way to think of it, now, ] even had I wanted to. My ears, but my skin too, I had some of my father's drow colouring. My eyes were purple.

[ lavender, specifically, but it feels a little pretentious to drop shades when they hardly matter here.

numerous different comments bubble up—that makes no sense, it's illogical, even if it isn't evident you're still half human, not wholly—but this isn't her plane, and someone who's lived their whole life here knows the rules of it better than she.

she mourns, still. her eyes had been pretty. ]

I think I can understand why. From what I've heard of your elves, I mean. The elfblooded would be getting it from all sides.