It’s hard to miss Scorch. There is a wide, open blue sky that invites Aletta towards the Nerinian border. It had been hard to find in Taiga, even if there were other … distractions in the Northern forest. The trees themselves had been impressive, arboreal feats towering to the testament of time. What had Beqanna been like when they had been saplings, she had wondered.
Would that have been before or after the land had shifted?
Her time in Beqanna - after the Reckoning but before the Plague - had been such a brief stint. The pale woman hadn’t bothered to learn the names of the lands that had risen in its wake. The Amazons and the Jungle, that idolized Sisterhood she had dreamt of all through her youth, had been long gone by the time Aletta reached Beqanna’s shores. What a disappointment that had been. One she couldn’t swallow and so she left the land of the Sunrise behind her.
(Onward and forward, always towards with Aletta. She has never been one to go chasing the past; what good does it do when it stays there?)
The late summer sun paints the lovely moorlands in shades of hazy gold and dark stone. The granite eerily resembles dust and the sky above becomes bright and wild. The sinking star turns almost crimson and the gray mare smiles. A red sky at night means the coming day will be a pleasant one. (A red sky at night, delight! One at dawn? Be warned!)
"Did you doubt I would?” the traveler dryly asks. There is an arch to her silver brow though her dark brown eyes spark with mirth as she turns her head towards the approaching Scorch. Even with that burning sun in the background, it is hard to miss the bald mare from the Field. "I know I’ve seen some years,” Aletta says. (And she wants to smile, a wry one is almost there, existing beneath the neutral mask), "but I think I can manage a few miles on my own.”
She isn’t so senile that she’d get lost - North is North, after all. There are only so many places to go once the trees of Taiga become the iron granite of Nerine.
Something like humor comes to play when Aletta glances back to the moorlands, "do you have a preference?” Looking at @[Scorch], it’s easy to imagine that she had knew how to word her way through politics. Her gaze lingers on that floral tattoo again and it makes Aletta presumptive, she knows. But it makes her think that she’d be more than capable of leading the best of them into battle, too.
Would that have been before or after the land had shifted?
Her time in Beqanna - after the Reckoning but before the Plague - had been such a brief stint. The pale woman hadn’t bothered to learn the names of the lands that had risen in its wake. The Amazons and the Jungle, that idolized Sisterhood she had dreamt of all through her youth, had been long gone by the time Aletta reached Beqanna’s shores. What a disappointment that had been. One she couldn’t swallow and so she left the land of the Sunrise behind her.
(Onward and forward, always towards with Aletta. She has never been one to go chasing the past; what good does it do when it stays there?)
The late summer sun paints the lovely moorlands in shades of hazy gold and dark stone. The granite eerily resembles dust and the sky above becomes bright and wild. The sinking star turns almost crimson and the gray mare smiles. A red sky at night means the coming day will be a pleasant one. (A red sky at night, delight! One at dawn? Be warned!)
"Did you doubt I would?” the traveler dryly asks. There is an arch to her silver brow though her dark brown eyes spark with mirth as she turns her head towards the approaching Scorch. Even with that burning sun in the background, it is hard to miss the bald mare from the Field. "I know I’ve seen some years,” Aletta says. (And she wants to smile, a wry one is almost there, existing beneath the neutral mask), "but I think I can manage a few miles on my own.”
She isn’t so senile that she’d get lost - North is North, after all. There are only so many places to go once the trees of Taiga become the iron granite of Nerine.
Something like humor comes to play when Aletta glances back to the moorlands, "do you have a preference?” Looking at @[Scorch], it’s easy to imagine that she had knew how to word her way through politics. Her gaze lingers on that floral tattoo again and it makes Aletta presumptive, she knows. But it makes her think that she’d be more than capable of leading the best of them into battle, too.