Blades are Better (Ren)

[Aello]

Fall 21, 512 AV Location: Somewhere between Ravok and Syliras Muddied irises fell onto lobed blades. Soft curvatures whose crenulated edges rippled by the wiry veins which fed. Trickling rivers of bleached green which ran from central stalk. Singular line coursing down the length of earthen tears. Leaves drooping disharmonously beneath the weight of recent watering; transparent beads casually cascading over the brink. Diving off the edge towards parching soil, packed roughly beneath the blistering soles of boiled leather boots. Creaking as pebble and course debris were pushed beneath the surface of uneven terrain. Sloping in nearby rise before dipping into the world's mouth. Buried beneath the roots, searching for the remnants of airy majesty. Shards of lofty ideal which their branches could never quite reach; scrape off a pasty blue sky, grown clear as Zulrav's sweet breath pressed them onwards, and away. Through the cooling ethereal, the scent of mud and fragrant flower, dying at first frostling's kiss, reached the nose of the huntress. It scrunched unpleasantly a moment, almost subconsciously as her eyes raked on, taking note of the subtle rustling of the leaves as the wind continued to weave through the masses. Invisible threads strumming the fronds of tanning grasses, wilting as sun's light undulated against a fresher surface. Aello's ears prickled as she listened; taking note of the peculiar tones, the strange music created for what seemed to be, her alone. For the vaporous tendrils brought nothing to light. Nor had they for several chimes passed. Filling the woman with a sense of unease; enough to make her heart thunder in her chest as she tread onwards. Thumbs stroking the wire hilts of the daggers she bore. The cursed weight dragging as the bloodied metal sparkled in the receding rays. The end of supple wooden curve tapping her side, as her bag gently thumped against her back. Arrows sloshing around the rim of their confinement, clicking softly, if one only took the time to listen. Aello moved on, rounding an elder oak. Her breathing grew shallow, forcing her to concentrate. Taking the time to hold, before sweet release. Where could you all have gotten to? the huntress wondered as her heels dug into the earth.