there's always a glimmer in those
It’d likely been wrong to think of drawing her weapon on this individual, but after the series and cycles of their trials, tribulations, and tempestuous edges, it would’ve been far more foolish for her not to react at all. That wasn’t why she trained. That wasn’t why she wove precision into her arches and fronds. A tilt of her head in study continued, striving to remember if she could recall him from somewhere, but nothing seemed to ring a bell. Another portion of backdrops and surroundings, her head in the clouds. “Not scared. Prepared.” For what; she didn’t say (there were enough demons, monsters, and any other notion of things before they even hastened to the immorality of humans and their embittered souls). Her grin could’ve been considered feral or savage, if her eyes weren’t full of some distinct mirth. An assurance, a shrug to her shoulders, and off she persisted, her head inclined over her shoulder, Fangorn springing out of the brush and bushes to follow along. “I’m headed to the Mathair. I was going to tell some stories to Safrin.”
As if this summed up the explanation, she started to pick up the pace, skipping over elongated roots, bits of shadow, and curved trails, marked haphazardly by those who’d been here before. But she knew the way. Her voice was sing-song and light in the air, cast into ethereal bounties again, invitations and offerings. “You can come, if you want.”
As if this summed up the explanation, she started to pick up the pace, skipping over elongated roots, bits of shadow, and curved trails, marked haphazardly by those who’d been here before. But she knew the way. Her voice was sing-song and light in the air, cast into ethereal bounties again, invitations and offerings. “You can come, if you want.”
who have been through the dark
MELITA
