A year younger than Linsan, Brook was Dukan's eldest daughter. She had her father's dark hair but the curly hair tumbled over her shoulders and down almost to the small of her back. She has bright brown eyes.
His hands ignited into white flames as he threw himself in front of the stranger. As soon as he landed, he brought his hands together. Has a large pack over his shoulders. Strengthens flames and heat.
"Dame Kabisal?" One of the city guards came up. It was a hawk-faced woman that looked like she couldn't smile if her life dependent on it. She held a clipboard in her right hand.
She was slender with startlingly golden hair. Her waist had an almost perfect taper that only a corset could create; Linsan could spot some of the boning underneath the white cotton shirt she wore. However, his cousin wore brown trousers instead of a dress. With hands in both pockets, Cal's cousin gracefully stepped off the wagon and dropped the ground.
Linsan caught sight of Miska's hands. Like her cousin and Old Gab, she had intricate designs tattooed along her hands up to her elbows. The material of her shirt, above where the corset bound her, gave a hint that there were more tattoos along her sternum and belly.
> What secrets lie underneath that man's dress, hidden in the private shadows of his body only to be hinted at as he swirls across the room in glorious finery? I seek the answers, not brazen like the warrior I am, but as a thief stealing glances between the empty words with others. --- _One Mistaken Night_ (Act 1, Scene 8)
Brook had combined the remains of the three tea cups into a single one and had poured in enough sugar that it splashed with every step. She moved with a smoothness that hinted that she had done the same many times over the years.
