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71st of Winter, 515 A.V
The Sanctuary
There was a quiet in the Sanctuary and the horses were growing reckless. No doubt they would need exercise, but that was not the Myrian's problem. Horses were not her forte, and so she was left with cleaning and grooming the other, less massive animals. Shovel thrown over her shoulders, she sniffled in the cold but dared not touch her face. Between her eyes and around the bridge of her nose were deep blue and grey bruises, a light yellow forming under her eyes.
She had broken the cartilage in her face days ago, and after setting it and the guidance of a healer, the injury was healing nice and straight. Didn't mean she didn't look battered as sin - a look she wore with equal parts pride and shame. As Kiva leaned forward to shovel up a brown patty, her movements were slow, her eyes distant.
She wasn't in the stable at all, but someplace far darker. Her imagination. Over and over she repeated the scene like a play. She would find the Akalak, stalk him. Find out his mannerisms and strike what was most dear to him. Or would she lure him... away from the city. Kill him in cold blood? Her grip tightened around the wooden handle and she tossed the poop into a bin where it would be used as fertilizer for the orchards. She could see the life leaving his eyes, a wistful sigh escaping her lips.
Throwing the shovel away from her, it hit the wall with a snap, and she continued to move around the stables, addressing her duties. Water was filled in the troughs, feed was given to the animals. Next, Kiva turned the corner, hearing the baying of a rather frustrated creature. In its own stall was a sturdy donkey that nosed at the door. It was time to come out, it seemed.
Kiva smirked only briefly, not entirely sure what she was getting herself into. Opening the gate, she reached out to scratch the creature behind the ears and it seemed more than eager to follow her to the yard. She hoped it would be as easy getting it back inside.
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71st of Winter, 515 A.V
The Sanctuary
There was a quiet in the Sanctuary and the horses were growing reckless. No doubt they would need exercise, but that was not the Myrian's problem. Horses were not her forte, and so she was left with cleaning and grooming the other, less massive animals. Shovel thrown over her shoulders, she sniffled in the cold but dared not touch her face. Between her eyes and around the bridge of her nose were deep blue and grey bruises, a light yellow forming under her eyes.
She had broken the cartilage in her face days ago, and after setting it and the guidance of a healer, the injury was healing nice and straight. Didn't mean she didn't look battered as sin - a look she wore with equal parts pride and shame. As Kiva leaned forward to shovel up a brown patty, her movements were slow, her eyes distant.
She wasn't in the stable at all, but someplace far darker. Her imagination. Over and over she repeated the scene like a play. She would find the Akalak, stalk him. Find out his mannerisms and strike what was most dear to him. Or would she lure him... away from the city. Kill him in cold blood? Her grip tightened around the wooden handle and she tossed the poop into a bin where it would be used as fertilizer for the orchards. She could see the life leaving his eyes, a wistful sigh escaping her lips.
Throwing the shovel away from her, it hit the wall with a snap, and she continued to move around the stables, addressing her duties. Water was filled in the troughs, feed was given to the animals. Next, Kiva turned the corner, hearing the baying of a rather frustrated creature. In its own stall was a sturdy donkey that nosed at the door. It was time to come out, it seemed.
Kiva smirked only briefly, not entirely sure what she was getting herself into. Opening the gate, she reached out to scratch the creature behind the ears and it seemed more than eager to follow her to the yard. She hoped it would be as easy getting it back inside.