i leave you my dust, and dry bones;

[Osyva]

ooc: please no 'zons, falls, or gates. open to all other kingdoms.<3

Morning comes slow. Feeble light peeks from behind the horizon, and the harsh night shadows begin to fade into gray. Early Spring frost glistens in the lazy light. She has always loved the morning. Not because of the hope that it brings. That ideal has long been snuffed out. But, because of the calm; the sense of solitude when the night creatures return to their shadows, and the rest of the world is not quite awake. She knows that soon the Field will be alive and bustling. Kingdom members will be scouring every corner for recruits. But, for now there is quiet, save the gentle rustling of yawning spring grass. Her return to the Gates, to the place she had always thought of as home, had showed her just how long she had been away. Her loyalty had never been to the kingdom itself, but to her father. Without him there, she was alien. No one remembered her. No one remembered the day the magic came quite like she did. In fact, no one remembered at all. Being there, touching the same ground where her father had disappeared… It only served to bring a bitter taste to her tongue. So, she waits here, amongst the gray of morning, for the vultures to come pick at what is left of her bones.