Maea
If I could sing one last song
A high wind was in the trees, blowing in across the woodland realm from the sea. The sun smiled down over the Sidhe Village, but it's light and warmth seemed a distant thing this morning. Clouds chasing across the sky warned of inclement weather to come, a storm brewing to the east that would swallow the sun as the day wore on. But at least for now it was only windy.
Pink petals torn from flowering cherry trees scattered before a gust of wind as Maea made her way towards the simple training grounds, where she would meet up with Liam. She regretted leaving her coat behind. It had seemed a perfectly lovely day from the shelter of her house, but as fingers of cold air slipped beneath her collar she shuddered with the realization that summer remained a ways off still.
Picking up the pace into a jog to keep herself warm, Maea was pleased to find her way unobstructed by tree shenanigans. Slowly the forest seemed to accept her among its denizens; the times it led her astray had grown infrequent over the past few days; perhaps it would stop altogether before the year was over.
Dressed for the physical activity to come, she had donned the leather trousers Liam had helped her shop for, and the faded old shirt that survived the destruction of her old camp. The long hair bounced from a loose braid resting between her shoulder blades; practical and relaxed, just like the well-worn boots on her feet. A splash of color was a new addition to the ensemble. The scarf wrapped around her neck held a vibrant crimson hue, it's fine quality contrasting greatly against the otherwise ordinary garments. Another thing that was new was a polearm carried in her hand, resting against the shoulder. The glaive was a simple yet elegant piece of weaponry, unadorned yet of excellent quality. Maea had brought it along in place of her chakram; as this one wasn't enchanted, she figured it would even the ground between herself and the dragoon during this first spar between them.
Pink petals torn from flowering cherry trees scattered before a gust of wind as Maea made her way towards the simple training grounds, where she would meet up with Liam. She regretted leaving her coat behind. It had seemed a perfectly lovely day from the shelter of her house, but as fingers of cold air slipped beneath her collar she shuddered with the realization that summer remained a ways off still.
Picking up the pace into a jog to keep herself warm, Maea was pleased to find her way unobstructed by tree shenanigans. Slowly the forest seemed to accept her among its denizens; the times it led her astray had grown infrequent over the past few days; perhaps it would stop altogether before the year was over.
Dressed for the physical activity to come, she had donned the leather trousers Liam had helped her shop for, and the faded old shirt that survived the destruction of her old camp. The long hair bounced from a loose braid resting between her shoulder blades; practical and relaxed, just like the well-worn boots on her feet. A splash of color was a new addition to the ensemble. The scarf wrapped around her neck held a vibrant crimson hue, it's fine quality contrasting greatly against the otherwise ordinary garments. Another thing that was new was a polearm carried in her hand, resting against the shoulder. The glaive was a simple yet elegant piece of weaponry, unadorned yet of excellent quality. Maea had brought it along in place of her chakram; as this one wasn't enchanted, she figured it would even the ground between herself and the dragoon during this first spar between them.
I'd make it a good one
