Character OTS



Couple OTS

Open | to these gods you cannot pray



"have you died before?"

The Marshlands reminded her of the darkness that lingered on the outskirts of her mind. No matter the time of the year, the atmosphere hung in the air with a dampness which leaned upon any who ventured. Hel didn't like to venture too far from Tryggr. While she had skirted the vast entirety of the Slidr River Valley with the hoard that hounded through the territories without regulation before, she didn't appreciate leaving the sanctity of home since her accident. It was funny. The concept of a 'home' hadn't been something she'd sought after in her youth. Unbridled freedom, a world serving as your homeland rather than a hovel as an abode... it was all far more attractive then the sedentary lifestyle of a homestead. Now? Her spine itched and crawled with uncertainty as her fiery mottled fores dug through the wet grounds. The earth had swelled, impregnated with the melting winter snow.

Everything would be muddy for weeks.

The mud suited her though. While the travel itself upset her, had her teetering along a fine line of afraid or uncertain, the thick filth that clung to her legs and splattered her leather strappings was nostalgic. Countless training sessions had been held in mud. It was to "learn how to properly fight, since a battle field was never perfect", or something to the effect. The verbiage was lost on her far too distracted mind. But the cool, drying mud brought some form of calm to her otherwise racing heart. The fractured soul that remained of the once veteran warrior skulked further into the Marshlands, the obsidian of her extremities masked almost in entirety by the thickness of the muck. Despite the fresh spring, insects already flit across the verdant glass-like surface of the pools. Some even flew about the trees, their buzzing wafting in and out with the proximity of their paths. If the abhorrent flies had already started breeding she could only imagine this place when the summer time came.

Fiery daggers drug through the mire, collections of muddied water pooling at every hoof fall. It was cool on her hooves, not like the bite of ice but a soothing caress of chill that re-energized her. Despite the reminder of the darkness that haunted her every waking - and, who was she fooling, sleeping as well - moment, Hel didn't mind this putrid, filthy place. At least, for now

WC: 400 | Tagged: Kaleysus or open

table by soupi

powerplay excused
within reasonable limits!
always tag responses.

Tag: @[Hel]