and i'm still waiting for a life that never was
Magic wasn't enough for Alys.
It was all well and good, of course, and she'd been practicing, slowly strengthening her abilities. But illusions would only get her so far, and she wanted to be able to defend herself against anything that might come up. Illusions, simply put, weren't going to do that. No, for self-defense - or even for offense - she would need something a bit more... sharp. She'd elected to begin training with a bow, hoping that she'd be able to avoid up close and personal combat. Perhaps later, she'd add daggers to her repertoire, just in case.
She'd packed a bag that morning with the basic necessities for a training session: a collapsible target, her newly-purchased bow, and a quiver of arrows. She wore cooler clothes than strictly necessary, protected from any lingering chill by the magic granted to her by her admission into the Academy: dark pants tucked into tall leather boots, a loose white shirt, and bracers along her forearms to protect the tender skin there from the bowstring. Her dark, curly hair was tied back from her face, though a few errant tendrils sprung forth as she set her belongings down in Svaturis Bay. Brushing them from her eyes, Alys began to set up her target.
It was all well and good, of course, and she'd been practicing, slowly strengthening her abilities. But illusions would only get her so far, and she wanted to be able to defend herself against anything that might come up. Illusions, simply put, weren't going to do that. No, for self-defense - or even for offense - she would need something a bit more... sharp. She'd elected to begin training with a bow, hoping that she'd be able to avoid up close and personal combat. Perhaps later, she'd add daggers to her repertoire, just in case.
She'd packed a bag that morning with the basic necessities for a training session: a collapsible target, her newly-purchased bow, and a quiver of arrows. She wore cooler clothes than strictly necessary, protected from any lingering chill by the magic granted to her by her admission into the Academy: dark pants tucked into tall leather boots, a loose white shirt, and bracers along her forearms to protect the tender skin there from the bowstring. Her dark, curly hair was tied back from her face, though a few errant tendrils sprung forth as she set her belongings down in Svaturis Bay. Brushing them from her eyes, Alys began to set up her target.
Alys
