(( Mor'val, humanoid form. ))
Mor'val hoisted the sack of goods over her shoulder, the strap brushing against the base of her iridescent wings. Her nostrils were graced with the odour of raw fish and strong spices. Not an unwelcome scent for her, of course. The docks' shops reeked of both, as well as the sting of salt water. Many of the city's visitors, clearly tourists, didn't seem accustomed to warm, humid climate. Mor was certainly bothered by the stench of their sweat. Some people just didn't know how to not be disgusting,
it seemed.
The woman, herself, was clad in as little as was legally permitted; a sash tied about her hips held a sheer cloth around her upper legs, and the loose shawl on her shoulders was just enough to cover her upper chest. Not that there was anything there to cover, but she'd learned that people tended to throw a fit when someone feminine in build went around shirtless. A silly concept, but one she'd abide to if it meant less of a headache on her part. Sunburns weren't much of a concern, a fact she was both proud and relieved of. The stuff people dribbled all over theirselves to avoid getting sunburned smelled like death.
The clawed digits of her feet clacked against the damp wooden boards, leaving the faintest of scratches wherever she stepped. She kept a brisk, long stride to reach a much less populated corner of the markets,
hair and ornamental feathers bouncing against her shoulders.