The only thing that made the Tundra bearable, in Alys's opinion, was that it was Flowerbirth. The snows were melting, and fragile grasses were beginning to grow from the frigid remnants, their heads peeking shyly above the icy melt. In a month, the land would be covered in summer grasses for a short, albeit beautiful, time. Aside from that, though, it was a wasteland, and Alys marveled that anything - even grass - could weather the cold.
The young woman pulled her cloak more tightly about her shoulders, scowling at nothing in particular as she trekked onward. The only reason she had bothered leaving the Citadel was a matter of pride; she'd recently learned just how weak she was, and she was determined not to find herself in such a predicament again. As such, this morning she had donned warm breeches and boots, several layers of shirts, a coat, and her cloak, and forced herself out into the frigid waste for a walk.
If she could survive this, she could survive anything. Right?
The young woman pulled her cloak more tightly about her shoulders, scowling at nothing in particular as she trekked onward. The only reason she had bothered leaving the Citadel was a matter of pride; she'd recently learned just how weak she was, and she was determined not to find herself in such a predicament again. As such, this morning she had donned warm breeches and boots, several layers of shirts, a coat, and her cloak, and forced herself out into the frigid waste for a walk.
If she could survive this, she could survive anything. Right?
alys glasse
waiting for the right mind to drive insane
