Abyzou had once tread these paths time and time again in her childhood adventures. So familiar, yet entirely different. Decades had passed since she had fled this world. It was a blur to her, for the most part. She recalls the storms that stirred on the horizons. You could sense the calamity to unfold even from the depths of the gnarled foliage of the Jungle, where she found herself lurking at the time. The prickling feeling of a wrathful storm that caused the masses to flee, or fall with the world they had anchored to, and called home.
Abyzou had never settled. She never could, for long. Even before the fall, she had never found herself yearning to nest and call somewhere home. The Chamber perhaps came close, but that was her mother’s home. Mother always returned there, and was always at her happiest there. Younger brother Dagro seemed comfortable there as well. Yet, it was never the case entirely for her. Things were quiet in her youth, and she craved a little chaos. Abyzou grew bored easily, and often was found to be out hunting fauna that were easy prey animals. To eat? Not necessarily. It was for sport, to curb the boredom and bring some sort of thrill to her.
Abyzou has grown beyond the frogs and squirrels that lurk the underbrush. Those days of childhood antics are long gone. She wears the color red well, and the iron-tinged scent often lingers in her wake. Her instincts had brought her home. Yet, home was an entirely different world. She had returned to Beqanna about a fortnight ago. Admittedly, she couldn’t tell anyone how she got here if she tried. Magic, this world was built on it and no more needed to be said.
She’s spent her time skulking and lurking. Everything was different, she had taken note that some lands still remained - including the territory in which her ancestry was deeply rooted. She had spent quite some time observing, drawn in like a moth to a flame. Yet, she turns away, back to the commonlands. Drawn to the forest, she lurks in the red-orange foliage of which she is nigh camouflaged in. Leaves crunch softly beneath her talons with each footfall as she navigates the thicket, off the well-trodden paths.
Abyzou had never settled. She never could, for long. Even before the fall, she had never found herself yearning to nest and call somewhere home. The Chamber perhaps came close, but that was her mother’s home. Mother always returned there, and was always at her happiest there. Younger brother Dagro seemed comfortable there as well. Yet, it was never the case entirely for her. Things were quiet in her youth, and she craved a little chaos. Abyzou grew bored easily, and often was found to be out hunting fauna that were easy prey animals. To eat? Not necessarily. It was for sport, to curb the boredom and bring some sort of thrill to her.
Abyzou has grown beyond the frogs and squirrels that lurk the underbrush. Those days of childhood antics are long gone. She wears the color red well, and the iron-tinged scent often lingers in her wake. Her instincts had brought her home. Yet, home was an entirely different world. She had returned to Beqanna about a fortnight ago. Admittedly, she couldn’t tell anyone how she got here if she tried. Magic, this world was built on it and no more needed to be said.
She’s spent her time skulking and lurking. Everything was different, she had taken note that some lands still remained - including the territory in which her ancestry was deeply rooted. She had spent quite some time observing, drawn in like a moth to a flame. Yet, she turns away, back to the commonlands. Drawn to the forest, she lurks in the red-orange foliage of which she is nigh camouflaged in. Leaves crunch softly beneath her talons with each footfall as she navigates the thicket, off the well-trodden paths.
CLEVER GIRL | LANDEN X SCIRE |
