As the last of the vines fall away, Lyra pauses to swipe the back of a gloved hand across her forehead. It might not be a particularly warm day, but the physical labor has brought a light sheen of sweat to her face, and she laments the fact that maybe she isn't as in shape as she thinks. Walking over flat terrain is one thing, in Torchline, but doing manual labor? This is something entirely different than what she's used to.
Not that she's complaining. She's found the work rather enjoyable, especially seeing as she's had good company.
"Any time," she adds to Elizabeth's assurance, then turns to the job of hauling vines and debris to a burn pile. When the fire is lit, the woman continues to toss remnants of the vines onto it, stoking it higher and building a nice little pile nearby to avoid the fire growing too much too fast. When they're finished, she can't wait to partake in the pastries that have been calling her name since she first arrived, but for now, she's content to continue to help.
---
Lyra helps gather debris!
Not that she's complaining. She's found the work rather enjoyable, especially seeing as she's had good company.
"Any time," she adds to Elizabeth's assurance, then turns to the job of hauling vines and debris to a burn pile. When the fire is lit, the woman continues to toss remnants of the vines onto it, stoking it higher and building a nice little pile nearby to avoid the fire growing too much too fast. When they're finished, she can't wait to partake in the pastries that have been calling her name since she first arrived, but for now, she's content to continue to help.
---
Lyra helps gather debris!
Lyra Abrams
