Hugging her cloak tight and scowling, though it's unclear what at, Doll sniffs the air and shuffles toward the smell of fresh food and drink when they're introduced, reaching out to snatch something - a fruit!? - and crudely munch off a bite before she drops it in a clay bowl that she collects next, rough and careless in handling both. Her eyes squint towards the mannequins when she notices them only afterward, belated, and glides a few lazy steps closer to there, hair swaying in her eye on one side. She tongues her lips and slices a look towards Vashtalyn afterward, then seems to pause before upnodding casually and remarking, "Thaaanks. I ain't quite used to this level of cold, happens." Her steps take her toward the hearth then, and on approach, her toes briefly wiggle in appreciation for its warmth.

The Wild Plains Bazaar shop front has been decorated with festive ribbons and swaths of cloth in warm, colorful hues of saffron, violet, crimson and gold as if in defiance of the wintery chill outside. Long tables have been set up along the northern wall, where a variety of hot fresh baked goods have been laid out; crusy fresh bread, hot meat pies, sausage on a stick, roasted capon, hearty stew and a variety of apple and peach pastries. Another table contains various beverages; cinnamon apricot tea, coffee, mulled wine or cider, or a selection of whiskeys. There are several cozy places to sit around the fireplace or throughout the shop, and a large clothes rack is set out to display a variety of different beautifully-crafted outfits.

As the young woman shuffles her way further into the shop, Vashtalyn steps aside, allowing her to roam about however she likes. She gives a nod to the words spoken. "Help yourself to any of the food and drink. Oh? Are you from warmer climes then?" she asks curiously. She speaks with accented Arvani, as if it isn't her first language, her voice warm and melodious.

Apply PASTRY. Doll digs'em, at least from how she chomps one up promptly and grabs for some cider afterward. It's an apple kind of day. To Vashtalyn she replies, though a bit sharply with her nose wrinkled, "Yeah. I'm from, uh... South-... port. Southport." She sounds dismissive, and tongues the inside of her cheek, sliding lazily onto a seat. She takes a gulp of cider and peeks down into her cup of it after, remarking, "Huh. Wish they served this at the Murder. Prolly overprice it though. Fuckers." Laying her fingertips out in a slender fan there, she inclines her wrist and pops her knuckles in a row over one knee, then snaps her fingers, pointing out one of the mannequins, "Clothes and clothes and more clothes huh? Maybe I shoulda stopped by before."

Doll wrinkles her nose up gradually after browsing a thing or two on display, "Need some... boots."

As the young woman indicates where she is from, Vashtalyn nods, squinting thoughtfully. "I'm not familiar, but I think that's in the Lyceum? I have heard that it is indeed much warmer there." She moves around the counter as the young woman comments about the shop, and smiles. "Well, I'm giving the outfits on the mannequins away for free today" she says. "If any of them take your fancy, just let me know, and it's yours.

She rests her elbows on the counter, watching idly as the woman mentions needing some boots. "I'm only just learning about tanning and leatherworking, so my boots aren't going to be anything fancy, but I'm sure that I can make you some that are at least warm and sturdy," she offers, once again noting the sandals. "Do you like ankle boots, or more of a knee-high or thigh high?" she asks, moving over to a work table behind the counter. She starts sorting through different lengths of supple black leather, glancing over at the young woman, then back at the leather as if measuring with her eyes. "I can line them with fleece, for extra warmth, and I can custom-fit them so they are comfortable for you," she adds. "No charge. By the way, I don't think I caught your name?"

Just when a taste of that biting wind outside starts to somehow bite a little harder, Doll flashes it a glare from across her shoulder, like it had been personified in just that moment to be despised. She blows a breath out and clenches her cider up for another slightly more irritable sip despite the warmth of her surroundings, squinting over its rim for a moment before she lowers it, cupping it in both hands just over her lap.

She pauses, then concludes, "Taller the better. Go thigh. And yeah. Ain't, uh.. you know, fancy's not a requirement. In fact, if it looks... strong, maybe for the best." She finally manages a smile in introducing herself to Vashtalyn, "I'm Miranda. Miranda from Southport. Where you from?" Her attention wavers to the mannequins.

Vashtalyn glances over to Miranda as she introduces herself, and smiles. "Nice to meet you, Miranda. Not fancy, and thigh high - got it." She crouches down beneath the counter, and pulls out a box with several lengths of longer black leather, and then she begins to cut them using a pattern. "I'll need to measure your foot, to get the correct size," she says, taking up a strip of ribbon that has certain marks on it. "Do you mind? And do you prefer a soft or hard sole? Heels or no heels?" She approaches tentatively with the measuring ribbon. "I'm one of the Ravashari," she says in answer to the question, "of the Andalashari clan of the plains, in what are now House Shepherd lands. My people travel around a lot following the wild horses of the plains, so I'm not really 'from' anywhere specific," she says offhandedly. "We tend to take our homes and tents with us wherever we go, though I've sort of found my calling here in the city. I'm not really used to staying in one place for so long, but my family wanted someone here in Arx, to find out about things happening in the world. Our people are otherwise pretty isolated."

There's a narrowing of her eyes the more questions Vashtalyn gets to asking, even about the boots. It's almost suspicious. Doll keeps her answer short, "Yeah. All of it, yeah." She reaches down to unwind a sandal, tossing it down on the floor just nearby and then rolling down her thigh-highs to offer her newly-bared foot forward. Her expression seems to relax, her manner a little more lax while either the hearth or Vashtalyn's manner warms her from an iced state, "I mean, I don't know. Whatever you think'd look best."

"Horses? Huh. I don't really do that. Been on a few boats though. How long you gonna be out here for? Just 'til you feel like it? Seem like you gotten pretty cozy." A hand indicates the storefront.