Jarla, 8th Nachexen

This is ridiculous, Jarla thought to herself, watching the poor fool chatter his teeth so hard she was worried he'd break one or two. Unclasping her dark cloak she hung it around Jacques's shoulders. Jarla was certainly not immune to the cold but she'd be willing to bet she could resist it better than he could.

"That's a fair song Jacques and it is a fair view but let's try a little warmer shall we? The Duke of Aquitaine perhaps?" She offered a slender, gloved hand to the bard to hell him.