#;wandering protector

[thefadeismyshield-blog]

☂ Preferred weather

“Rain isn’t a constant in Llomerryn like it is in places like the Storm Coast, but it rains often enough. And it rains hard. Most people would get in their houses when the first rumble would be heard, sailors would check the security of the ships, make sure there would be no flooding, mother would retreat the nets, but I would just sit there and listen. The drops falling in the sea always sounded like music to my ears. It was strange. It agitated me, but also gave me a strange sense of calm at the same time. It gave me... Focus. It allowed me to clear my head completely... It was, in a way, similar to my training.”

[thefadeismyshield-blog]

invintersend

The moment she stepped foot in the Emerald Graves, she understood why that place was given that name. She could feel the intensity of old battles and she just knew that the ground she stepped on was soaked with blood, and more than once. And it would be once again.

She saw a group of people in the distance, refugees, most likely. They were walking on the road. With them walked only one warrior. They were headed to a tight turn. She had a bad feeling about that. She took a look around, and once her fear was confirmed, she climbed back on her horse and hurried to their direction.

“Stop moving!”

[thefadeismyshield-blog]

greywardenblue

Sometimes she couldn’t understand why some places called to her. She was walking in the streets of the city of Wycome in the Free Marches, and all she saw was merchants, urchins and locked doors. She wasn’t cast away, but she wasn’t exactly welcomed either. Something about that place felt wrong.

Was that why she was called to it?

She listened to the chatter, something about the elves of the city, something about them carrying a plague. She kept walking and she was met with a closed gate. The Alienage was locked.

But that wasn’t what attracted her attention, or, to be clear, the spirit’s. She turned around and saw a hooded figure lingering nearby, looking at one merchant’s apples. She approached and pretended to look at the apples as well.

“These are trying times, Serah, don’t you think? It’s man killing man out there.” Her voice a whisper, no one else but the woman in the hood would hear her.