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L On any other day, Wound would much rather prefer to spend her evenings under the warmth of the dying sun, perhaps soaking herself in a pool of water steaming from the currents of lava found underground. Tephra offered a sweet, humid sanctuary from the bitterness of winter and the silvery bay had quite gotten used to the temperatures of her home.However, as night is falling around her, the diplomat is still making her way home. She’d spent the day in the Field, searching for anyone who might be in need of somewhere to stay — even temporarily. But any loner she might’ve engaged with was already preoccupied and Wound is certainly not evil-hearted enough to snatch a recruit from under a fellow’s nose. It’s the sound of a deep rumble followed by a soft whisper that causes Wound to turn away from her path home and struggle through a few deeper snow-banks. Her deformed leg slows her down even further so by the time Wound breaks out of the tree-line and into the vision of Durotan and Maiven, she is almost sweating and most definitely out of breath. “Oh!” she manages to get out between gulps of searingly cold air. Her lungs are burning, but her heart is warmed by the sight before her. A young, pale girl traveling with a large, dark stallion. Wound’s coffee-brown eyes evaluate the sight for a moment longer. “I didn’t mean to interrupt… I just heard some voices and wanted to make sure no one was hurt.” It’s a lame excuse, but Wound’s always been the type to help the strangers of Beqanna regardless of whether they actually want it or not. “I’m Wound.” |
credit to nat of adoxography.
@[Durotan] @[Maiven] Sorry this took so long to get out!