I would fall from grace just to touch your face
There were better places to cool off than here. More private places, but Maeve was longing to escape for a little bit. Needing a bit of peace that could only be found in the Wilds. It was why she was currently waist deep in the Wishtide, personal effects on a small island a few feet away, within reach should she need them. Hands cup cool water, drawing it up to splash of her neck, washing away that had gathered at the nap there during her run. A sigh slips past her lips, lashes fluttering shut as she relishes in the coolness that comes with it, glad to chase away the still lingering heat from Longheat that never quite seems to leave.
So lost in the sensation that she almost doesn't hear the snapping of twigs. Almost. It's less than fifteen feet to the shore and Maeve's already considering if she'd even be able to make it in time. She's stripped almost bare in her current state, having not wanted to get her clothes wet, knowing they're in a heap on the shore. The only thing on the small island is her whip. Carefully she begins to shift closer, slender fingers finding the handle of the familiar weapon as she uncoils it, jade eyes scanning along the shoreline just in time to catch a rustling in the underbrush.
She doesn't hesitate to snap her weapon towards the noise, intent on scaring whatever it is off with the sonic crack and flash of flame that follows, water dripping off of her where she stands now calf deep in the river.
So lost in the sensation that she almost doesn't hear the snapping of twigs. Almost. It's less than fifteen feet to the shore and Maeve's already considering if she'd even be able to make it in time. She's stripped almost bare in her current state, having not wanted to get her clothes wet, knowing they're in a heap on the shore. The only thing on the small island is her whip. Carefully she begins to shift closer, slender fingers finding the handle of the familiar weapon as she uncoils it, jade eyes scanning along the shoreline just in time to catch a rustling in the underbrush.
She doesn't hesitate to snap her weapon towards the noise, intent on scaring whatever it is off with the sonic crack and flash of flame that follows, water dripping off of her where she stands now calf deep in the river.
Maeve
