The only blessing Galadriel needed to go after what she wanted was her own, but she did find herself hesitating at the thoughts of another. When she murmured her desires expectantly up to him, she was delighted to see his quiet pleasure. Perhaps not a blessing, but Rel isn’t entirely convinced she would have stopped even if he had said no.
The water-weaver stands quietly at the bank of the small pond she has taken up residence next to. Her legs waver in and out of flesh and water, expectantly flexing her magic like one might anxiously flex their fingers. She glances backward, studying the silent hollow beneath a raised redwood root that she has claimed as her bed.
Late-morning mist evaporates as she ponders, as close to nervous as she’ll ever be.
When that tiny spattering of nerves dissipates, Rel peers up at the loosely woven Taigan canopy. The wretched heart in her chest pounds irregularly as she calls out a greeting, a challenge, and a demand.
This was to be hers, now—simply because she wanted it.
@ everyone lol
activity
activity
activity
activity
oops I forgot this one lmao