- Messages
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- Character Biography
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A moth flapped its wing in a hurry, making Wordweaver's ear twitch imperceptibly.
The thick foliage of the southern Falwood rainforest trapped the moisture in the air, shielding its ground from the dimming amber of the sun far above. With its balmy, humid air, Wordweaver could even smell the rotten stank of carcasses left out in the open, mixing with the heady blooms of rioting flora promising sweet death. Her feet glided over the gnarled roots of ancient trees, the flowing fabric of her dress barely hindering the movement as it brushed the slick moss and various fungus that dotted the landscape.
This jungle was noisy, teeming with life that feasted upon another life, which in turn, feasted upon another. A celebration of existence.
Summer in all of its maddening glory.
Her stride paused as the moth earlier flitted to her cheek. It kissed her with murmured whispers, before deciding to meld back into her skin.
A beat passed. Then another.
Slowly, Wordweaver turned around. The glitch on her face flickered slightly before it settling into frost-blue eyes and pointed ears reminiscent of an elf.
To play a wanderer means to forever transgress, to pay the proper respects, to observe the song and the dance of hospitality if not wanting her head to fly at all off her shoulders, if not worse. While it offers a certain degree of freedom, it also means she is an eternal refugee in a stranger’s land.
She exhaled softly. She should've taken the ley lines. Faster, safer, more reliable—though it can be argued. But she had been taking it non-stop for a while, and the monotony gnawed at her sanity. Her need for novelty had been warring against her better judgement, what with the tension running rampant among the courts and all.
A bad choice, she concurred, but there has always been something charming about taking the scenic route back home.
A flicker of shadow caught her attention now. Wordweaver shifted carefully, almost brushing the border of the Summer Court yet not enough to enter, her eyes scanned the seemingly empty surroundings. She rarely runs into people this deep in the jungle, but maybe it’s one of those days.
“Charming weather for a stroll, don’t you think?” Her voice lilting lightly, testing the water with an innocent question.
The thick foliage of the southern Falwood rainforest trapped the moisture in the air, shielding its ground from the dimming amber of the sun far above. With its balmy, humid air, Wordweaver could even smell the rotten stank of carcasses left out in the open, mixing with the heady blooms of rioting flora promising sweet death. Her feet glided over the gnarled roots of ancient trees, the flowing fabric of her dress barely hindering the movement as it brushed the slick moss and various fungus that dotted the landscape.
This jungle was noisy, teeming with life that feasted upon another life, which in turn, feasted upon another. A celebration of existence.
Summer in all of its maddening glory.
Her stride paused as the moth earlier flitted to her cheek. It kissed her with murmured whispers, before deciding to meld back into her skin.
A beat passed. Then another.
Slowly, Wordweaver turned around. The glitch on her face flickered slightly before it settling into frost-blue eyes and pointed ears reminiscent of an elf.
To play a wanderer means to forever transgress, to pay the proper respects, to observe the song and the dance of hospitality if not wanting her head to fly at all off her shoulders, if not worse. While it offers a certain degree of freedom, it also means she is an eternal refugee in a stranger’s land.
She exhaled softly. She should've taken the ley lines. Faster, safer, more reliable—though it can be argued. But she had been taking it non-stop for a while, and the monotony gnawed at her sanity. Her need for novelty had been warring against her better judgement, what with the tension running rampant among the courts and all.
A bad choice, she concurred, but there has always been something charming about taking the scenic route back home.
A flicker of shadow caught her attention now. Wordweaver shifted carefully, almost brushing the border of the Summer Court yet not enough to enter, her eyes scanned the seemingly empty surroundings. She rarely runs into people this deep in the jungle, but maybe it’s one of those days.
“Charming weather for a stroll, don’t you think?” Her voice lilting lightly, testing the water with an innocent question.
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