Holly narrows her eyes as the man responsible for all of this mess pushed the body off of her and offered his hand. She takes it, but not before debating whether she should pull him down at the same time in search for some tiny revenge. She masks her feelings, though, because she knows better than to start a ruckus -- right, as if that hadn't already happened -- when she has a job to do, people to find, and flowers to buy. Because Marcy is still insisting she needs them for whatever God forsaken reason her younger sister thinks Holly would need flower's on this journey for. Then again, it's not like she told them the truth about her going, but... well, that was for their protection. Surely they'd understand, when she got home? ...If she came home?
None of that matters now, though. Keep your head out of the clouds! she tells herself angrily.
She forces a smile to her lips at the man that helped her up, and to the neko that started this whole thing who suddenly appears at her side. She pulls her concealed lance out from where it stuck between her shoulder blades.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she replies, brushing dust, pebbles, and a rogue hoof print off the back of her slim-fitting light-yellow gown. She brushes a thin strand of straight brown hair back behind her ear, exposing her bright green eyes, shallow lips, and faintly pink cheeks. She wears a light mask of make-up, a bit of darkener beneath the edges of her eyes, and a thick chain of expensive looking dodger-blue beads around her neck. Her ear-rings, golden studs from which hang identical replicas of the crest on her bag, dangle from her ears and shine in the mid-morning light. Her gown, fairly simple in design, sways around her feet and just covers the tops of her bland, brown shoes -- a complete contrast to the rest of her outfit. She stands straight and as tall as she can, the way nobles do, because that's what she is, even if she doesn't really fancy the idea -- it's a way of life she was bred into, and in public situations, it comes to her more out of instinct than out of choice.
"Thank you for helping me," she continues, a pang of annoyance in her voice, "but honestly, you could watch what you're doing! You could have killed me or something..."
She trails off. It's as though, all of a sudden, she's remembered that she's actually a shy person, not used to talking to people outside her manor, not used to conflict and certainly not as forward as her mannerisms might portray... but again, maybe that's part of her noble life, too.
