The stars are alive, child! Did you know that? Everything out there is alive, and there are grand purpose abroad!
She was trying to build her strength. Carefully this time. When she was in Elysium she had asked Kodarki to train her, and to no fault of his, it had gone… poorly. She had pushed herself too hard, and ultimately it had nearly been her demise. This time she went slowly. Once or twice a week she came down from the mountains for the day, using the time to either gather herbs for the infirmary in the temple or to wander Novus a little. She still requested someone take her up and down the mountain each time, wary of the steep cliffs and crumbling paths. She was careful to judge her health on the days she went down, fearful of not being able to get back up, even with the help of one of the monks.
She would always be exhausted the next morning and would spend the day resting or doing simple tasks within the infirmary. While there would be no fixing her state of being, slowly she began to feel strength build up in her shoulders, and hindquarters, just enough that she stumbled less coming up the steep trails to the temple, though she still heaved for air by the time they had gotten halfway up.
Luvena had arisen early that morning, having made arrangements with one of the acolytes to take her as far as the foothills. She intended to head for the Amare Creek, wanting to gather some of the herbs and plants that thrived in its damp banks. The temple’s biggest downfall about mountain life was the lack of plants that could survive the harsh conditions. Among her list was willow and nettle, and a few other assorted plants if she could manage to bring them back.
She came up along the Rapax river, staying a fair distance from the crumbling banks, knowing that with the way the currents rampaged, any hoofbeat could fall on sinking earth, sending her toppling into the cold winter currents.
Nevertheless, she followed the water, until it began to calm, turning from white water rapids to a soft burble until she came to the shallow sections of the creek, where the water moved so slowly that a thick layer of ice covered the surface. It wasn’t the best season to gather herbs of course, but it was possible. This time of year the willow bark was brittle and thus easy to crack off the trees with a sharp kick to the trunk. As soon as she reached one Picoro was content to clamber off her back into the canopy. The mountains did not appeal to the small tree-dwelling creature.
She turned, as she heard the snow crunch behind her. Squinting against the sun’s glare, she could see a familiar figure approaching. She had met the woman once before. A fleeting moment she could hardly remember, her first day in the dusk court. Overwhelmed by stone structures she had never seen before, so unlike the woven willow palace, she had grown up in. Israfel.
@Israfel
She would always be exhausted the next morning and would spend the day resting or doing simple tasks within the infirmary. While there would be no fixing her state of being, slowly she began to feel strength build up in her shoulders, and hindquarters, just enough that she stumbled less coming up the steep trails to the temple, though she still heaved for air by the time they had gotten halfway up.
Luvena had arisen early that morning, having made arrangements with one of the acolytes to take her as far as the foothills. She intended to head for the Amare Creek, wanting to gather some of the herbs and plants that thrived in its damp banks. The temple’s biggest downfall about mountain life was the lack of plants that could survive the harsh conditions. Among her list was willow and nettle, and a few other assorted plants if she could manage to bring them back.
She came up along the Rapax river, staying a fair distance from the crumbling banks, knowing that with the way the currents rampaged, any hoofbeat could fall on sinking earth, sending her toppling into the cold winter currents.
Nevertheless, she followed the water, until it began to calm, turning from white water rapids to a soft burble until she came to the shallow sections of the creek, where the water moved so slowly that a thick layer of ice covered the surface. It wasn’t the best season to gather herbs of course, but it was possible. This time of year the willow bark was brittle and thus easy to crack off the trees with a sharp kick to the trunk. As soon as she reached one Picoro was content to clamber off her back into the canopy. The mountains did not appeal to the small tree-dwelling creature.
She turned, as she heard the snow crunch behind her. Squinting against the sun’s glare, she could see a familiar figure approaching. She had met the woman once before. A fleeting moment she could hardly remember, her first day in the dusk court. Overwhelmed by stone structures she had never seen before, so unlike the woven willow palace, she had grown up in. Israfel.
@Israfel
