Gudryn
Gudryn watched somewhat helplessly at the events that unfolded before her.
You are an ill wretch! Covered in filthy rags, blood, scars and bruises!
And in such royal company she knew nothing of how to behave and so she lowered her head trying to make herself inconspicuous. The depth of tortured sorrow within her rich brown eyes collected into hot tears.
She brushed them away quickly with her shawl remaining behind the others. Death seemed to follow her, hatred grew within her, she wished Rand were dead, no longer haunting her mind and threatening her very life if he came to this place.
Gudryn prayed he wouldn't find her, but her hope was smouldering. Was she waiting for him, was she waiting to die?
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"...for the sin of the idolater is not that he worships stone, but that he worships one stone over others.
-8:9:4 The Witness of Fane"
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