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Private all the hate that you've seen has turned your spirit to a dove

Discussion in 'Myrtle Beach and the Shimmering Sea' started by Elspeth Gordie, Apr 2, 2018.

  1. 25th of March
    @Nancy Whitman

    It had been a fledgling idea, really. A fleeting thought that kept coming back. Amid all the hate that she was hearing, hate that sounded eerily, concerningly, familiar, it kept coming back. Elspeth didn't really think on it much, between adjusting to her new situation and processing everything that came with it. Like magic.

    That had been a revelation.

    Even among all that, probing for any trace of her friends, trying to work out what she had done, one word kept turning up. Well, two, but she wasn't going to tell anyone, even herself, the second one.

    Obernewtyn.

    She had had a purpose, before she was taken. There was no reason she couldn't do it here. It wasn't like it wasn't needed. So here she was, hand rested gently on Galta's mane. She was wandering the woods, looking for a hopefully secluded location. People had talked about randomly abandoned buildings, and if she could find one of those, it would be a good start.

    All her mental blocks were up, so it was entirely accidental that she stumbled upon what was clearly a settlement in the making, an mix of tents and huts and buildings that reminded Elspeth slightly of a gypsy camp.

    It wasn't exactly unexpected when people started to stare in surprise, since she was certainly an interesting figure. Sitting on a horse, but with no reins in her hands, and her clothing a confusing mix of old-fashioned and recent. Stockings and riding boots underneath these bizarre pants people called jeans, with a bright purple (a new clothing colour for Elspeth, and one she found she quite liked) tunic and a brown woolen cloak finishing off the ensemble. Galta snorted softly. These funaga look like they've never seen an equine before, he sent. Or perhaps never seen another funaga. He stiffened. Beware, Elspeth Innle. There is one here who smells of longdeath/dirt/decay. Elspeth raised her eyebrow and looked around. No one here seems evil, she replied drily. Galta snorted softly again. Only a funaga would think that death is evil, he responded chastisingly. It is a necessary part of life.
     
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  2. Nancy Whitman

    Nancy Whitman Wayward Children

    Posts:
    219
    Gender:
    female
    Race:
    Wayward Child
    Age:
    18
    Alignment:
    Neutral Good
    Directory:
    link
    Death is a part of life.
    Nancy had always known that, even before she'd visited the Halls of the Dead. But only afterwards had she realized its gravity. Its severe weight. Even so, she had never feared it, after she'd danced with the Lord of the Dead. Had welcomed it, whenever it hit her. Knowing, the Dead would be taken care of well.

    Sweeney wasn't dead, but he might as well be called such. Pandora had whisked him away last month and Nancy was actively mourning, for the first time in seemingly forever. Additionally to her entirely black wardrobe, she had gotten herself a vibrant green neckband, with a golden four-leave-clover pendant softly clicking against her throat with every step, to remember him. To have something she could touch, when the grief was too harsh. Too much to bear.

    Bellamy was around somewhere, she thought, when Cayli came to her, talking about a visitor someone would have to greet. "I can't find Bellamy anywhere, he's probably hunting or something," the - in a lack of better terms - vampire added, brushing a strand of lilac hair behind her ear when it slipped into her face. Nancy had always admired Cayli for her beauty, the gorgeous contrast between almost midnight-sky-black skin and the colourful hair she was wearing. Her irises entirely white, leaving only the pupils as an indication that she was moving her eyes.

    Nancy sighed but got up and followed her quickly. The leader role was still something she was growing into, no matter how easily the others had lifted her into it. The ghostly girl kept her thin staff close to her body though she didn't use it as a walking cane like many druids did. It also wasn't enchanted in any way; Nancy had started training martial arts with it, because she found herself be quite good at it - definitely compared to a gun or a sword. And, after all, she couldn't always rely on her magic to protect her. Especially not, when she wasn't really in control of it as of late.

    The visitor was a young woman, Nancy assumed, stepping forward when the others parted to let her through. The girl regarded her with interest. There might not have been a smile on her lips, but she definitely didn't look - or sound -cold, when she spoke. "Hey there, can..I help you?" Nancy asked in a neutral tone, resting the staff next to her feet in the soil.

    Only Cayli stayed with her, but the others slowly went back to what they had been doing before Nancy had arrived. She was sure they would probably come to her aid should she need them, but most were convinced she could defend herself just fine.