Herbalists' Cache Taste Of Fame

She was nervous. This became rapidly apparent to Riptide who watched her tense movements with observant fiery, red-orange eyes. Nervous and perhaps hostile. Sometimes, they ended up being one in the same. He did not know her and thus did not think he had quarrel with her, nor any reason to harm her. Her edgy behavior suggested that perhaps there was some history in the blank void in ...generally majority of Riptide's memories. Or, perhaps, she was inherently a nervous woman. He was a bit unstable himself — his lips pulled terse for a moment as he considered that — but not in a nervous fashion. It was not fear that caused his mental instability ...thought in his credit he'd done good thus far at keeping Arturo from battling him for control. His instability was the parts of his personality Riptide had yet to discover, admittedly.

She was exceptionally uncomfortable, looking as if she were going to take flight and flee at any moment despite that there was nothing hostile nor aggressive in the sea witches' posture. As it was, he'd made no moves to draw near: favoring to simply stand where he'd first acknowledged her presence. She stuttered out a meek greeting followed by her name. Grace. “Grace?” Riptide repeated, though the question was purely rhetorical. “I'm called Riptide.” He spoke to her, gentle, as if he were speaking to and attempting to soothe a frightened child.