Aithne
High infidelity
Put on your records and regret me
Put on your records and regret me
Mud.
Mud everywhere.
It's the first thing Aithne thinks as she steps through the Portal and into the Everlasting Bonfire, and she wonders briefly if she's made a mistake in coming here. The Climb, after all, was warm and dry, at least in the Burrows. The Hollowed Grounds is another story entirely.
Grey thunderclouds roll over the Inner Quarter, drenching anyone who happens to be out and about. Mud squelches beneath Aithne's feet as she runs through the flames and darts towards the nearest building. Whether it's a store, or a tavern, or something else entirely, she neither knows nor cares. Once she's safely under the eaves, she glares out at the rain as though it has personally offended her. And, truthfully, it has.
Huffing an annoyed sound, Aithne wrings out her wild curls. They're going to be a mess now that they've gotten wet - and she's going to look like a damp poodle - but at this point, it is what it is. She's here now, and she might as well make her way to that place Astaroth had told her about. What was it called again? The Dusk... something, she thinks. Not that she has the slightest idea where it might be. And in this weather, there's not many people around to ask.
Mud everywhere.
It's the first thing Aithne thinks as she steps through the Portal and into the Everlasting Bonfire, and she wonders briefly if she's made a mistake in coming here. The Climb, after all, was warm and dry, at least in the Burrows. The Hollowed Grounds is another story entirely.
Grey thunderclouds roll over the Inner Quarter, drenching anyone who happens to be out and about. Mud squelches beneath Aithne's feet as she runs through the flames and darts towards the nearest building. Whether it's a store, or a tavern, or something else entirely, she neither knows nor cares. Once she's safely under the eaves, she glares out at the rain as though it has personally offended her. And, truthfully, it has.
Huffing an annoyed sound, Aithne wrings out her wild curls. They're going to be a mess now that they've gotten wet - and she's going to look like a damp poodle - but at this point, it is what it is. She's here now, and she might as well make her way to that place Astaroth had told her about. What was it called again? The Dusk... something, she thinks. Not that she has the slightest idea where it might be. And in this weather, there's not many people around to ask.
I bent the truth too far tonight
I was dancing around, dancing around it
I was dancing around, dancing around it
Minor powerplay allowed without permission.
Feel free to use force/magic on Aithne.
Feel free to use force/magic on Aithne.
