She has yet to come to the Greatwood - any part of it. Something about it didn’t intrigue her quite as much as the Grounds or Torchline did. Probably because tales of the fae, though not necessarily bad, didn’t sound all that inviting either. She knew full well that she wasn’t ever going to get anywhere interesting here unless she was invited, and without an invite, why bother coming? Until tonight, of course, when they were all invited to gather for the catching-the-sun festival. Weaver isn’t entirely sure why she bothers to come except for sheer curiosity. She doesn’t expect to know anyone, and she doubts this is the sort of place where she should go and get drunk, so there’s little for her to actually do.
Still, she comes anyway. The dragonfly trinket from Mavis’s stall is tucked into one of her pockets. She’s not sure why Mavis suggested it as a gift, but it is a beautiful thing and would make a lovely necklace or keepsake or maybe just be a great thing to regift. The Wildwood is lovely as well, and Weaver takes a moment to pause and simply look over the twinkling lights, the snakes moving through the trees, the starry sky above. She is early, revelers just starting to gather. Normally she would consider it uncool to arrive at a party early, but this is the sort of party that she suspects she won’t stay long. She’s here to see; get in and get out.
She settles herself on the outskirts of the party, leaning against a tree, content to watch and not mingle for the moment. It is only after she settles in that she realizes she is not alone, but ratherLoren stands not too far off. She doesn’t know him, though he looks vaguely familiar and she wonders if he’s from Halo. It was too small a place not to know everyone, or at least recognize some familiarity. ”Not the party type?” she asks, not moving closer or infringing upon his wallflower space (that would be rude and against wallflower etiquette), but at least acknowledging his presence.
Still, she comes anyway. The dragonfly trinket from Mavis’s stall is tucked into one of her pockets. She’s not sure why Mavis suggested it as a gift, but it is a beautiful thing and would make a lovely necklace or keepsake or maybe just be a great thing to regift. The Wildwood is lovely as well, and Weaver takes a moment to pause and simply look over the twinkling lights, the snakes moving through the trees, the starry sky above. She is early, revelers just starting to gather. Normally she would consider it uncool to arrive at a party early, but this is the sort of party that she suspects she won’t stay long. She’s here to see; get in and get out.
She settles herself on the outskirts of the party, leaning against a tree, content to watch and not mingle for the moment. It is only after she settles in that she realizes she is not alone, but rather
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
