Jasnah Kholin

With your farsight, you move closer to a window in the grand palace of the city. Through it you see a woman wearing a purple dress, so tight around her ample bust that you worried (and hoped) the buttons would burst. The curve of her shoulders and slimness of waist indicated a fit, and curvaceous frame. Her silky black hair was tied neatly and precisely in a bun, held in place by a few golden pins, and her undoubtedly beautiful face was furrowed with worry. Her perfect lashes were drooping, her cherry-red lips set in a scowl and her plucked eyebrows furrowed. Her sleeved hands clutched a pen and paper that she was lethargically writing on. Completely disregarding the very important-seeming papers stacked on the wooden desk, you drift into the dimly lit room, eagerly eyeing the purple-clad woman's chest. As you approached, small pulses of information just... added themselves to your mind. Her name was Jasnah Kholin.