Open [World’s End Grotto] A moment of reflection

[Weylin Quickshot]

Date: Winter 512, Day 52, Early morning

The chill of winter had now grabbed hold of the land, a light frost covering the ground, an eerie white stillness silencing all. Or at least in the early hours. By the time the sun had peaked over the roof tops, the city of Zeltiva has already begun to hum. But here Weylin had placed herself, away from the outside world, and the calmness wrapped around her. World’s end Grotto was subject to Weylin today, and she hoped she would not be a bad patron. Or at least, not as bad as she was a few nights before in the Kelp Bar, after all she had chosen here to retreat to so she could escape a second fight. Her she could think her she could feel through her aches and bruises, and her she could forget.

She took a spot against the wall, her cloak resting around her shoulders, her green eyes staring out from beneath a hood, catching the flecks of light that pierced through the windows. If those were to peer beneath the shadow her hood they would see the remains of a black eye, various pigments of reds and purples surrounding it, but the worse of the swelling was now reduced. For a while she would stare out like this, her mind thinking of little par her breathing as deep lulled state took hold. She thought of home, of a time that was now long gone, of a life she had run away from in one sense. But now, in the cold of winter she had emerged anew, a state between ripping herself free and cast away what held her down. A state of limbo between chained and free, a state that soon enough Weylin would be able to free herself of.

The Drykas inhaled then exhaled, taking a moment to pause and gather her thoughts. She could see a few of the visitors to Zeltiva within the Grotto, but she did not bother herself with them. They had their own priorities too, and so it was best to leave them be. Nothing of ill intent would disturb her here. Or so she hoped at least. Reluctantly the Drykas made herself move, stretching out her legs with a low grunt. They had grown stiff in her short moment of stillness, and something she had to put a stop to. She pushed herself forward, flexing her fingers and rolling her shoulders, chasing away the aches that set in. It was indeed the curse of bruising and brawls, but a curse Weylin had to get use to, along with getting use to the maze of the city.

For the most part Weylin had mastered the skill of getting lost in perhaps the less friendly of Zeltiva’s parts, and too many times she found herself coming close to the fist of an angry drunk. Her thoughts moulded and merged, remembering the late nights out, and the dull ache of her face after a hard smack struck across her, knocking her nearly to the floor, the faint remains of bruising that still remained. That was over now; she had lived to see another day, somehow. It surprised her on times that she was still together and in one piece that she had yet to be carried off to truly never return. A smile broke on her lips as she thought such thoughts. The change of scene helped lift her mind indeed, pulling her out of the maze and into hopefully a more friendly space.