Her hair was well kept, despite having a number of other things to worry about. Most of the rest of her was just slightly a mess. Skin smeared with dirt here and here, fingernails short and rough, a map of tiny scars that came with living in Halo. But her hair was not a mess. There were not a lot of vanities one had time for, but Weaver allowed her this. Besides, to leave it down and long was asking for someone to grab it and rip it out. The braid, tossed over her right shoulder, was usually harder to get a hold of and it kept it out of her way (which was the more practical of her two reasons). Well, there was a third reason, which was to cover a scar no one could see anyway, but this didn’t seem like a real reason but rather a bit of crazy she did not divulge.
She’d had a rather productive morning in the forest. Her pack was full of all sorts of mushrooms and herbs she’d never seen, or at least rarely seen, at home. Hopefully nothing would kill you by touch, because she’d touched everything (avoiding the things that did in fact look obviously harmful, because even when you live in a wasteland you learn the basics of survival). She was about to go hunt down her brother and send him off to go discover what everything she’d found actually was when a song catches her attention.
Male voice, with an accent she doesn’t know and doesn’t think belongs to a native grounder (though, she has no way of being sure given that her life has been trapped inside Halo up until now). It is an interesting, rough but pleasant sound. She turns once, twice, trying to determine the direction of the sound. It doesn’t take her long to figure it out, and soon she spots a young man on his knees, singing. Strangely enough for her, she doesn’t cut in with some rude remark, but rather just leaned against a tree (careful as she does so of the scythe slung across her back), listening. “Do you mind an audience?” she says, when he reaches a point where it doesn’t feel like interrupting. Truthfully, she wonders who he is singing to and why, but she’s not here to make enemies (which Korbin helpfully reminds her every time they cross paths), so she sticks to asking for permission rather than why.
She’d had a rather productive morning in the forest. Her pack was full of all sorts of mushrooms and herbs she’d never seen, or at least rarely seen, at home. Hopefully nothing would kill you by touch, because she’d touched everything (avoiding the things that did in fact look obviously harmful, because even when you live in a wasteland you learn the basics of survival). She was about to go hunt down her brother and send him off to go discover what everything she’d found actually was when a song catches her attention.
Male voice, with an accent she doesn’t know and doesn’t think belongs to a native grounder (though, she has no way of being sure given that her life has been trapped inside Halo up until now). It is an interesting, rough but pleasant sound. She turns once, twice, trying to determine the direction of the sound. It doesn’t take her long to figure it out, and soon she spots a young man on his knees, singing. Strangely enough for her, she doesn’t cut in with some rude remark, but rather just leaned against a tree (careful as she does so of the scythe slung across her back), listening. “Do you mind an audience?” she says, when he reaches a point where it doesn’t feel like interrupting. Truthfully, she wonders who he is singing to and why, but she’s not here to make enemies (which Korbin helpfully reminds her every time they cross paths), so she sticks to asking for permission rather than why.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
