A LITTLE MAYHEM NEVER HURT ANYONE
Morrighan remembers when the crowded markets used to bother her. There is always so much noise from people shouting for everyone to buy their wares. There are many scents that mix together depending on the food being shared. Now, she got used to the sensory overload and tuned most of it out. She actually doesn't mind the taste of rice cakes or the sweet spiciness of mulled cider, things she never had back home or thought she'd enjoy.
She walks along the market street on this night in contemplation. Denocte is her home now, although it didn't always feel like home. She had been loyal to Ourania for so long until she finally came to terms with the fact that her homeland was gone. There's no way to know for sure if it had been fully destroyed, but there's no going back. Quite frankly, she has made a name for herself here and now couldn't imagine leaving. Dare she say it- Denocte had become her family.
The mare didn't know everyone within the Court yet as she still liked her solitude. However, she was slowly starting to meet others. They weren't all bad; if anything, those from other Courts were who she couldn't stand. Moira might be one she's not too fond of, mostly because of their skirmish on the island. At least that had no hindrance on Isra's trust of Morrighan and so she became Warden and holds her title proudly.
Tonight she feels her guard coming down a little bit (or perhaps it's the cider) and she wanders more as one of Denocte than the Warden. Thankfully, Bram is not present and she has not seen the wolf in several days. It helps her feel more relieved as the thought of a wolf being her bonded still did not sit well with her.
Up ahead, there is a familiar figure standing in front of one of the merchant tables. Daggers glisten from the light of the fires and it seems he's deep in thought staring at the different types. He is one of the ones she doesn't know well, but she recognizes him as Isra's mate who came from Solterra.
"You don't strike me as someone who would wield a dagger," she says curiously, walking over to stand next to him. He's always come across as the passive type, but at least that's all she's seen so far. It's also curious to Morrighan what Isra sees in him, but she had yet to fall in love. Maybe it would make more sense when that time came.
@Eik I couldn't resist <3
Morrighan remembers when the crowded markets used to bother her. There is always so much noise from people shouting for everyone to buy their wares. There are many scents that mix together depending on the food being shared. Now, she got used to the sensory overload and tuned most of it out. She actually doesn't mind the taste of rice cakes or the sweet spiciness of mulled cider, things she never had back home or thought she'd enjoy.She walks along the market street on this night in contemplation. Denocte is her home now, although it didn't always feel like home. She had been loyal to Ourania for so long until she finally came to terms with the fact that her homeland was gone. There's no way to know for sure if it had been fully destroyed, but there's no going back. Quite frankly, she has made a name for herself here and now couldn't imagine leaving. Dare she say it- Denocte had become her family.
The mare didn't know everyone within the Court yet as she still liked her solitude. However, she was slowly starting to meet others. They weren't all bad; if anything, those from other Courts were who she couldn't stand. Moira might be one she's not too fond of, mostly because of their skirmish on the island. At least that had no hindrance on Isra's trust of Morrighan and so she became Warden and holds her title proudly.
Tonight she feels her guard coming down a little bit (or perhaps it's the cider) and she wanders more as one of Denocte than the Warden. Thankfully, Bram is not present and she has not seen the wolf in several days. It helps her feel more relieved as the thought of a wolf being her bonded still did not sit well with her.
Up ahead, there is a familiar figure standing in front of one of the merchant tables. Daggers glisten from the light of the fires and it seems he's deep in thought staring at the different types. He is one of the ones she doesn't know well, but she recognizes him as Isra's mate who came from Solterra.
"You don't strike me as someone who would wield a dagger," she says curiously, walking over to stand next to him. He's always come across as the passive type, but at least that's all she's seen so far. It's also curious to Morrighan what Isra sees in him, but she had yet to fall in love. Maybe it would make more sense when that time came.
@
"Speaking."
