The day is crisp but clear, wind whistling and humming its song as it darts between the brittle leaves still clinging to their birth-branches. Nephele hums alongside its intrinsic tune, the soft vibrating noise of her wings trailing behind her as she flies. Gentle hands reach out to graze against fragile edges, tracing wind-chilled bark with calloused fingertips. Though the day is undeniably beautiful and should be appreciated - as snow and ice swiftly approaches - Nephele cannot spare her attention to soaking in the sights and sounds of her beloved woods.
After trying all her normal botanical concoctions against the Blight samples she'd carefully harvested, Nephele had admitted to herself that she could not stay buried in books with old, well-practiced knowledge. New chemicals needed to be tested and combined, no matter the inherent danger. If they could figure it out through trial and error, so could Neph.
So she alights upon the top of the waterfall, peering fearlessly over the edge as foam and spray dampens the edges of her dress. It is clear and uninterrupted at its start, and what interests the flamehaired Fae is the lichen in its pool. With a careless step forward she lets herself freefall, dress whipping against her thighs and chilled water speckling across her face. It's a flare for the dramatic, but there's no fear here, only the hum of her wingbeats as she catches the updraft and steps onto the beach. As she's reaching into her satchel for her harvesting equipment however she realizes abruptly that she's not alone.
Instinct screams to chase away the wingless intruder, as fiercely protective of the Greatwood as a mother bear protecting her cubs. But she recalls Delah's firm words, clings to her own curiosity about the Outlanders, and swallows down her rage. Nonetheless her copper wings vibrate uneasily, carrying her up from the sand to float scant inches above as she flies over to the interloper.
What empathy remains in her heart for the girl draws Nephele's attention to her quiet form and drawn countenance. But the Fae doesn't care about propriety, too intrigued to leave the woman to her pondering even with the call of interesting lichen to be harvested beckoning her back.
"An interesting place to wander to, what brings you here?" Nephele doesn't beat around the bush, tucking her wings neatly against her back and refolding the top of her satchel to keep her equipment as clean as possible.
After trying all her normal botanical concoctions against the Blight samples she'd carefully harvested, Nephele had admitted to herself that she could not stay buried in books with old, well-practiced knowledge. New chemicals needed to be tested and combined, no matter the inherent danger. If they could figure it out through trial and error, so could Neph.
So she alights upon the top of the waterfall, peering fearlessly over the edge as foam and spray dampens the edges of her dress. It is clear and uninterrupted at its start, and what interests the flamehaired Fae is the lichen in its pool. With a careless step forward she lets herself freefall, dress whipping against her thighs and chilled water speckling across her face. It's a flare for the dramatic, but there's no fear here, only the hum of her wingbeats as she catches the updraft and steps onto the beach. As she's reaching into her satchel for her harvesting equipment however she realizes abruptly that she's not alone.
Instinct screams to chase away the wingless intruder, as fiercely protective of the Greatwood as a mother bear protecting her cubs. But she recalls Delah's firm words, clings to her own curiosity about the Outlanders, and swallows down her rage. Nonetheless her copper wings vibrate uneasily, carrying her up from the sand to float scant inches above as she flies over to the interloper.
What empathy remains in her heart for the girl draws Nephele's attention to her quiet form and drawn countenance. But the Fae doesn't care about propriety, too intrigued to leave the woman to her pondering even with the call of interesting lichen to be harvested beckoning her back.
"An interesting place to wander to, what brings you here?" Nephele doesn't beat around the bush, tucking her wings neatly against her back and refolding the top of her satchel to keep her equipment as clean as possible.
Your goodness must have some edge to it -- else it is none
