The music playing was magic, Mysaren could tell that much. At least, it made her feel irrationally... angry. Courageous. She wanted to fight and argue against almost everyone near her. She swallowed her anger and clenched her fists, gritting her teeth impatiently. She wanted to bash in the head of that idiot that was playing the music that made her feel weird, she wanted to fight the orc that was standing across the room, she wanted to use her sword on the useless rat beside her that was blowing smoke all over the place. She had the courage to do it now, but didn't, she resisted her urges. Who let this moron play music like this in a tavern?

Mysaren let a grin tug at the side of her mouth as she listened to Historia, shaking her head slightly. "Sorry for uhm, the advice, Historia," She said, letting her dark blue eyes scan over Historia again. She wished she could be like that, naive and carefree. "It's just that, well, where I come from, telling people hopes and dreams is kinda a death wish. I didn't mean to offend you, of course." She still didn't feel comfortable telling anyone where she was from, but her accent probably clued them in that she wasn't from around these parts.

"Not much. I would like to know where maybe I could sell a few family heirlooms. " She said. Mysaren was also well aware of how a good lie worked. One, you never added too much detail unless questioned. Too many details, and you look suspicious, it seems to well thought out. Two, you practice, like Mysaren had been for most of her life. She had been to too many cities, met too many people in skeevy taverns and bars to not know how to lie. She didn't like lying anymore, though, but this was a necessary evil, at least to her. She needed money, and no one would want some piss poor necromancer freak to work for them.