Post by Samira on Jun 10, 2010 16:57:54 GMT -5
ooc;;I'm starting in the middle of the day so we don't have to say "She got up. She went outside. So-and-so was awake. Oh, hi there how are you?" =P
bic::
Running through the woods usually didn't tire her, but today Samira's thoughts were rather scattered. Everything had appeared the same as usual; green, lush, the ferns and moss deep at the feet of the ancient trees. The birds sang as usual and the little creatures went about their small lives. But something was distincly wrong at the spring to the west, at the head of the small stream that joined the river below the guild's camp. It wasn't anything she could put her finger on - a vague disquiet; a sort of unsettled feeling in the water and the earth and the plants. Something felt... wrong there, in a way so elusive that it chilled her. The light breeze tossed her hair, its red glinting in the patches of noontime sun that lingered between the trees. It was straighter than it should have been on such a pleasant day; the spring had her upset, worried in a deep part of her. She couldn't have explained it, but ... something was not right there. It frightened her, though she wouldn't have admitted it.
She broke from the trees into the clearing of the main camp, glancing around at the dwellings - small houses built of wood, sod, or stone, mostly, and some less conventional places. She slowed to a walk as she came in, glancing around at the people about her. She would see if Thomas was back from his latest wander-off. She sometimes wished her brother weren't a ranger; he was gone so often and he was one of the few people whose company she truly enjoyed. Her mother was alright, but Calaya was so often preoccupied with everything else and so seldom truly understood her wilder daughter. High Elves did not fight with their daughters, or so her mother always said - but Sami would have readily sworn that every conversation ended in a fight.
**
Codroud felt cool to his touch today; cool and reserved. The old wizard wondered what the black staff felt that he could not sense. The woods felt quiet to him today; the birds' mindless chatter held no threat or fear, and the small creatures went about their daily lives without any extraordinary care. Their speech was filled with "food," "young," "rain," "sun" - all the little things that built their lives - mostly food and young. Gabrel walked slowly over the grass through the camp, watching his people go about their lives. He glanced up to see Samira walking toward him. The young Elf looked as if she'd already been out for a run today. There were twigs and leaves caught in her coppery hair and her cheeks were delicately flushed.
"How are the woods?" he asked her. She dipped her head respectfully.
"Calm," she replied. He lifted one eyebrow and gave her a quick once-over, and then turned to watch the flight of a starling overhead.
"Your eyes are blue today," he commented gruffly, "but the sun is out." She blinked. It always frustrated her that everyone could tell the weather by her eyes but she herself couldn't see them.
"Well perhaps it means to rain," she said uncomfortably, keeping her face bland. The old wizard gave her a long look, and then bestowed a rare smile on her.
"Perhaps it shall."
bic::
Running through the woods usually didn't tire her, but today Samira's thoughts were rather scattered. Everything had appeared the same as usual; green, lush, the ferns and moss deep at the feet of the ancient trees. The birds sang as usual and the little creatures went about their small lives. But something was distincly wrong at the spring to the west, at the head of the small stream that joined the river below the guild's camp. It wasn't anything she could put her finger on - a vague disquiet; a sort of unsettled feeling in the water and the earth and the plants. Something felt... wrong there, in a way so elusive that it chilled her. The light breeze tossed her hair, its red glinting in the patches of noontime sun that lingered between the trees. It was straighter than it should have been on such a pleasant day; the spring had her upset, worried in a deep part of her. She couldn't have explained it, but ... something was not right there. It frightened her, though she wouldn't have admitted it.
She broke from the trees into the clearing of the main camp, glancing around at the dwellings - small houses built of wood, sod, or stone, mostly, and some less conventional places. She slowed to a walk as she came in, glancing around at the people about her. She would see if Thomas was back from his latest wander-off. She sometimes wished her brother weren't a ranger; he was gone so often and he was one of the few people whose company she truly enjoyed. Her mother was alright, but Calaya was so often preoccupied with everything else and so seldom truly understood her wilder daughter. High Elves did not fight with their daughters, or so her mother always said - but Sami would have readily sworn that every conversation ended in a fight.
**
Codroud felt cool to his touch today; cool and reserved. The old wizard wondered what the black staff felt that he could not sense. The woods felt quiet to him today; the birds' mindless chatter held no threat or fear, and the small creatures went about their daily lives without any extraordinary care. Their speech was filled with "food," "young," "rain," "sun" - all the little things that built their lives - mostly food and young. Gabrel walked slowly over the grass through the camp, watching his people go about their lives. He glanced up to see Samira walking toward him. The young Elf looked as if she'd already been out for a run today. There were twigs and leaves caught in her coppery hair and her cheeks were delicately flushed.
"How are the woods?" he asked her. She dipped her head respectfully.
"Calm," she replied. He lifted one eyebrow and gave her a quick once-over, and then turned to watch the flight of a starling overhead.
"Your eyes are blue today," he commented gruffly, "but the sun is out." She blinked. It always frustrated her that everyone could tell the weather by her eyes but she herself couldn't see them.
"Well perhaps it means to rain," she said uncomfortably, keeping her face bland. The old wizard gave her a long look, and then bestowed a rare smile on her.
"Perhaps it shall."
