NEPHELE
down in the forest we'll sing chorus
He is not the only flighted soul forced to land amidst the rain. Having never experienced a monsoon of any sort before, Nephele is a bit baffled by the sudden intensity of showers that force her from the sky. Nothing at all like the drizzles or even cold autumn rains that can be found in the Greatwood. Even the water against her skin does nothing to chase away the heat of the day. It's baffling, and she loves it, her scientific mind whirling with possibilities and questions even as her wings bring her down to earth once more. Flicking off the excess with a sharp snap of her wings, she glances around herself, seeing only one large figure striding heavy and purposeful across the sand.
From a distance the man is a mystery to her, but their paths seem to converge and so Nephele uses the opportunity to come closer, until at last his features are familiar. Not in the way one is used to calling things familiar, for they've not met on a personal level, but she is at the very least aware of who he is by title if nothing else. "You are the Sword, are you not?" It is easy enough to revert to her commonplace boldness as they approach one another, her wildfire hair beginning to slick down against her skin from the rain as her golden eyes center high upon his face.
From a distance the man is a mystery to her, but their paths seem to converge and so Nephele uses the opportunity to come closer, until at last his features are familiar. Not in the way one is used to calling things familiar, for they've not met on a personal level, but she is at the very least aware of who he is by title if nothing else. "You are the Sword, are you not?" It is easy enough to revert to her commonplace boldness as they approach one another, her wildfire hair beginning to slick down against her skin from the rain as her golden eyes center high upon his face.
