this kingdom you've burned

there she was, all dressed in adventure, straddling the edge of a star

Whatever the woman takes from her ranting, it is none of Nephele's business, and she doesn't care enough to find out. Instead she merely nods politely, a vapid smile barely twitching on her lips. "You're welcome," she says softly instead, because it is the only truth she can safely say. Her wings unfurl from her back, stretching to the corners of the sky, releasing the tension coiled in her spine. Then they begin to beat, a soft hum of sound as her feet lift naturally from the earth, idly shifting her fiery hair over one shoulder.

"May your planting go well," she says in departure, a small flick of her wrist and a ghost of a smile on her face as she waves goodbye. She drifts across the scorched earth away from the dark haired maiden and her questions. Instead, Nephele is drawn to the distant hooded figure planting a rose of their own. Pauses and hovers nearby, hoping to catch their eyes if they deign to look up.

Part of Neph says she should stay and at least try to engage in niceties, but somewhere in the Village her sister is sickly, and the rose in her bag is a potential cure. So she merely gives a nod towards Wessex, whose name is still lost to her, and then flies off from this graveyard of a wasteland. Back to the forest that she intends to heal, to protect. From the Blight and these Outlanders alike.

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Feel free to post one more time or end here!

Nephele