Chloé Clement
High Elf Artificer
AC: 12 HP: 17/17
PP: 10 PIv: 15 PIs: 11
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Chloé keeps her head down as she piles her own plate with food. She'd much rather be in the lab, experimenting and practicing. She understands why she has to be here, that much was made extremely clear to her by Bishop Fontaine, but that didn't make it any easier for her. She'd spent the better part of a decade studying and practicing in relative solitude. Socialising, making small talk, being someone to whom a marriage of convenience would be more than just convenience? These are all practically unthinkable to her. She is no great beauty, and the sole attribute that would make her a prospect for such a connection is her mind - her mind which is being wasted on this instead of being allowed to stretch freely.

It's not like producing an heir is any task worthy of a brilliant intellect - anyone of age could do it with a moderate amount of coaxing, no matter how brilliant or...not.

No, Chloé finds herself distinctly unsatisfied by the party, forcing a paper thin smile while trying to ignore how those with power and position turned their heads away to murmur gossip quietly as she passed. Those who couldn't perform, who weren't the chosen few who were destined for the holy relics would sit and scheme for what power they could grasp, instead of applying themselves to being more. It was all so tiresome.

She steps away from the table, taking up an unassuming position near the archery butts. Perhaps if people believed she was simply watching the children (though she was still a child herself) she could avoid conversations with adults she didn't wish to speak to.