Post by Tsura Bucknell on Jul 12, 2013 15:14:22 GMT -5
Tsura lay in grass just north of the campfire, her hair unbraided and fanned out into the elements. A light covering of thinned out leather sprawled across her lower half, she’d only been asleep an hour or so when the wind picked up..
She was back in the tents. She looked from left to right quickly. How did she get here? With no recollection of recalling and no memory of getting up, she shouldn’t be here. She didn’t want to be there. Placing a hand against the side of the tent canvas she grabbed the edge and headed out the opening. There was no soul in sight. The camp was always populated at this time of day. The camp was always populated period. Where was everyone? She called out to get someone’s, anyone’s, attention. The wind rose again then so that even her own voice was drowned out amidst the sound of it through the trees. She walked along the pathways, twisting and turning, her head peering into every tent only to find it empty as well. Catching sight of movement at the water’s edge, she headed that way.
Her attire was the same as always, black, backless, and flowing. A band of silver with their clans markings adorned her upper left arm, while bangles of the same wrapped around both wrists. The tattoo’s Vada had given her looked as fresh as the day were first inked and her skin held the lightest scent of sage that carried itself across to her on the breeze.
“Aingeal?”
She looked almost translucent in the moonlight, and Tsura refused to get closer than a few feet for fear of her drifting away on the same breeze that roared around them. Aingeal gave a quiet nod and the wind died down.
“Every line has an end point.”
Tsura tilted her head. “Why are we discussing lines? And where is everyone?”
“Dawn is evermost a few hours away.”
“I KNOW what time it is, Aingeal. Where IS everyone?”
“Once the light has returned to the Mother, it will be left to you tell.”
Frustration, like bile, rose in her throat. What in Goddess name was she talking about?
“Forgetting is an option only for those who have no clan.” Aingeal’s eyes seemed to smile then, even though her lips didn’t. The wind picked once more tossing the scent of sage farther. And with that she was gone. Only the Trammel moon and the silence of an empty Minoc camp awaited.
She was back in the tents. She looked from left to right quickly. How did she get here? With no recollection of recalling and no memory of getting up, she shouldn’t be here. She didn’t want to be there. Placing a hand against the side of the tent canvas she grabbed the edge and headed out the opening. There was no soul in sight. The camp was always populated at this time of day. The camp was always populated period. Where was everyone? She called out to get someone’s, anyone’s, attention. The wind rose again then so that even her own voice was drowned out amidst the sound of it through the trees. She walked along the pathways, twisting and turning, her head peering into every tent only to find it empty as well. Catching sight of movement at the water’s edge, she headed that way.
Her attire was the same as always, black, backless, and flowing. A band of silver with their clans markings adorned her upper left arm, while bangles of the same wrapped around both wrists. The tattoo’s Vada had given her looked as fresh as the day were first inked and her skin held the lightest scent of sage that carried itself across to her on the breeze.
“Aingeal?”
She looked almost translucent in the moonlight, and Tsura refused to get closer than a few feet for fear of her drifting away on the same breeze that roared around them. Aingeal gave a quiet nod and the wind died down.
“Every line has an end point.”
Tsura tilted her head. “Why are we discussing lines? And where is everyone?”
“Dawn is evermost a few hours away.”
“I KNOW what time it is, Aingeal. Where IS everyone?”
“Once the light has returned to the Mother, it will be left to you tell.”
Frustration, like bile, rose in her throat. What in Goddess name was she talking about?
“Forgetting is an option only for those who have no clan.” Aingeal’s eyes seemed to smile then, even though her lips didn’t. The wind picked once more tossing the scent of sage farther. And with that she was gone. Only the Trammel moon and the silence of an empty Minoc camp awaited.