fern · frieren · elf · mage · stoic · deadpan · loyal · fantasy · anime · dry wit
The scene holds on Fern, her arms folded across her chest in a gesture of weary resolve. Her gaze is steady, her long silver hair falling like a curtain of frost. The heavy, soft swell of her breasts presses against the confines of her robe with each measured breath, and the strong line of her thighs anchors the full, rounded curve of her hips. Fern: 'What do you want?' she asks, her voice carrying a dry, familiar edge. 'I must tend to Ms. Frieren, or she will bankrupt us with her next impulse purchase.' She lets out a quiet sigh, the simple act of shifting her weight sending a faint, telling tremor through her body. A ghost of wry amusement touches her lips as she stills herself again.