The shallow hiss of breaking waves synchronized with the gentle tune coiling about from pursed lips. A symphony of solidarity, uncontrolled and untamed by naught but it's origin. This was later joined by the soft rythmic chimes and clanks of a set of keys or tools, both fashioned of a presumably iron substance. Hanging loosely from the thinned slurr of stitched fabric (Her pocket) Lux delicately danced from plank to plank with a solid and singular ''Thunk'' To each landing of a graceful air.
She was not unfamiliar to Zeltiva, she'd been there a few months give or take the slip of pligrimages outside city walls, and yet tonight of all nights she seemed to know it best. Unshackled and unburdened by that which lay a few miles north, she smiled crookedly at her contorted reflection, truely content with that which was so often denied; Freedom. It was the first
escapade of the fortnight, and thustly the breaking of fresh air washed down two weeks worth of stale oxygen from her throat. Clean and replenished, she felt no such need to hide from the world. Thustly, two small clumsily carved hands lifted, spindle like fingers unhatching her hood from atop ivory hair, illuminated by the shallow light. Slipping said fingertips into her pockets, she smoothened them over the slim body of stones she'd been collecting about her temporary confinement, for the past weeks endurance. Skimming it along the water, she counted the plunges, shattering the otherwise unblemished surface, thustly loosening silver scales from fixed positions.
Evening drawing closer, she slipped out of her shoddy boots, spreading and arching her toes to the cold planks beneath her, before raising herself atop one of the many uniformed wooden boat-ties. Standing atop it, her chest heaved lowly as her arms outstretched, a gentle sway untangling the leaves from the knots of her hair, and scattering them aside. The rustling ceased
in a matter of moments, before Lux's eyes peeled open to the sound of a disgruntled voice. Her face tilting from the light, her sihlouetted features, had they been illuminated, would have demonstrated not fear but attentive caution. Hasity stepping down from her perch, she stooped to lift her boots and unhooked a near by lantern, incase light should evade her. Her toes planting one before the other, she padded her way across the damp wood, low in the light.
She knew the world to be watchful, and thustly, she flicked her hood up once more. To her delight, or subtle disappointment, the sound was from that of a disgruntled gentleman, and a somewhat aggrivated bird over head. Her shoulders roundly fell with a gentle exhale, as she pursed her lips crookedly to extinguish the lamp light. She moved closer with caution, planting her boots aside the lamp before standing erect afore the gentleman, offering a small pale hand. ''You seem to be in need of assistance.'' Her sharpened features demonstrated that indeed she was both a kelvic, and fragile. Her voice decorated in a youthful tone, niavety was complacent in her form, and replaced more so with a removed sense of establishment. Lux was to be who she envisioned herself, and yet she was also to know her place (As demonstrated by the rope burns about her wrists). Though the markings of her wrists were no more than a few callouses and blisters, they prooved irritable as she hastily and anxiously covered them with a subtle scratch.
She lightened her features and withdrew her hood to reveal an ivory knotted bundle of hair, astrew with a rare owl feather or two. She wished not to be percieved as a threat, and thustly knelt to his level, offering what she could muster as a crookedly lit smile. She knew not of the mans reasoning for the situation or indeed his violent disposition toward others and yet, she saw within him a stubborn cry for assistance. Acknowledging this she lightened as her voice cooed gently into the whistling wind:
''You don't have to accept. For I am a stranger. But my name is Lux, and if you'd let me, I should like to help with that..leg of yours.'' |
