Camilla
It wasn't often that Camilla left the confines of the Greatwood. The trees her home and sanctuary. Even with the grumpiness of the Fae, the Abandoned found that she was rather content there, filling her days with work and trade. Her nights spent mostly alone. It was a simple life. A life that didn't call for much travelling, but there were times that she desired to get out. Despite being capable of creating almost anything she would need for her craft, the woman still liked to gather certain materials on her own, finding it connected her with the things she was creating. It tied her to the process more thoroughly.
Which was why she was out today. The idea of finding new flowers to make dyes from taking root in her mind and drawing her out of the Greatwood, leaving her to wander, collecting various plant life into her Bag of Holding while making note of the location she took each from.
It was what she was doing when she heard the commotion through a thicket of trees, brow furrowing as the sound of cursing cut through the quiet of the wilderness, birds having gone silent as they waited for whatever danger they perceived to pass. She stands, closing her book and tucking it away, carefully picking her way through the brush towards where the sound came from. The hole in the ground isn't uncommon, but she's careful of how far she leans to look, already preparing her magic to catch her should she slip. What she isn't expecting is a pale face and a white shock of hair to be looking up at her from inside. "Are you alright?"
Which was why she was out today. The idea of finding new flowers to make dyes from taking root in her mind and drawing her out of the Greatwood, leaving her to wander, collecting various plant life into her Bag of Holding while making note of the location she took each from.
It was what she was doing when she heard the commotion through a thicket of trees, brow furrowing as the sound of cursing cut through the quiet of the wilderness, birds having gone silent as they waited for whatever danger they perceived to pass. She stands, closing her book and tucking it away, carefully picking her way through the brush towards where the sound came from. The hole in the ground isn't uncommon, but she's careful of how far she leans to look, already preparing her magic to catch her should she slip. What she isn't expecting is a pale face and a white shock of hair to be looking up at her from inside. "Are you alright?"
There I was again tonight
Forcing laughter, faking smiles
Forcing laughter, faking smiles
