in tenebris est veritas.
The spray of the waterfall leaves tiny white beads of moisture on the braided flyaways of Chaele's black hair, framing her exposed face in a strange prismatic aura. Rare is the occasion when she strips away her mask and cloak, much less the rest of her clothes to enjoy the cool water in the magma-warm air; her brown skin is ravaged with scars both accidental and intentional, long healed as they enjoy the clean touch of the gently rippling pool.
It was supposed to be a private place. A magnet for thirsty fauna, perhaps, but difficult to reach nonetheless. She is right to be suprised as a man simply appears in the distance, a shadowed silhouette in an otherwise empty place. Instinct tells her to hide, to dip beneath the waters and hope she can remain unseen. But reason suggests that even such a movement could be spotted, and she is not prepared to be entirely undefended.
With a noisy splash of water she emerges in haste. She dives into her carefully folded cloak and dons her mask, only then taking the time to wrap her skirts haphazardly around herself. Should the figure come too close she would stop, letting the well-worn mantle fall modestly around her, though no amount of rushing would prevent her from keeping a careful dagger in her hand. Wordlessly she watches the other person until they either pass or approach, dark eyes vigilant from within the eye holes of a skull mask.
It was supposed to be a private place. A magnet for thirsty fauna, perhaps, but difficult to reach nonetheless. She is right to be suprised as a man simply appears in the distance, a shadowed silhouette in an otherwise empty place. Instinct tells her to hide, to dip beneath the waters and hope she can remain unseen. But reason suggests that even such a movement could be spotted, and she is not prepared to be entirely undefended.
With a noisy splash of water she emerges in haste. She dives into her carefully folded cloak and dons her mask, only then taking the time to wrap her skirts haphazardly around herself. Should the figure come too close she would stop, letting the well-worn mantle fall modestly around her, though no amount of rushing would prevent her from keeping a careful dagger in her hand. Wordlessly she watches the other person until they either pass or approach, dark eyes vigilant from within the eye holes of a skull mask.
