Wayna was seated in a carriage, watching the buildings span past as the number of people moving along the side of the road became sparse.
Her hands gripped onto a piece of coin tightly, somewhat nervous as she looked around, unable to see anyone or anything that caught her eye.
Everything seemed as normal as usual. But for some reason, she was feeling a bit nervous.
She wore a long gown like a noble, her green-rimmed gloves holding a paper fan that she used to fan herself. Twirled on one eye was a monocle that she adjusted from time to time, using it to read through the book before her, one that had a circular depression in its centre, deep enough to hide a coin within.
And it was exactly where the coin in her hand went. As the carriage continued to span past, she flipped the pages, acting like she was reading through the contents when in truth, she was distracted.
