Quiet Contemplation
Life was amusing, most times. Shelyna herself was currently sitting, within their room in the houses...house? That was how she imagined she would work that out. It was fathers manor, at least. Where many dwelled. Her mate and herself were now living there, due to circumstances she didn’t quite understand. Why they had to leave their lovely home in pandaria...no clue.
Not to say the manor was unpleasant, well, entirely so. As long as you avoided the basement it was nice enough. Time was awkward for the elf, as it was for most who lived for a long time. It almost seems like...Seven, eight months? Since she’d wound up with the family.
To say that a year ago she never would’ve expected anything that she is now, or to be anywhere near where she is, would be an understatement. Even still, despite hostilities, the number of families she actually cared for were many. Much time passed with the holts, that would never be forgotten. And if ever asked, she would jump to their aid in moments. Even if for much time now she’s had to settle for occasional observances of their auras for everyones safety.
Besides them, well, at least Alternus was somewhat like distant friendly family to her. She missed him, often. Though of course she wouldn’t regret it if she suddenly found out Monisha tripped into a volcanic mound and went up in an explosion of fire and blood. Except perhaps to languish about how sad it was it ended so quick.
So many other friends, missing, gone, nonexistent. Their lack of presence was one of the quiet pained concerns that occasionally rose to her thoughts.
And then, the family, both her husband and the rest of the hunters she was a part of. Both were important, though, the former while she trusted them now...There are certainly a few that...disturb her greatly. Perhaps that would never change, hopefully it wouldn’t. Darkness may be her skill, but it isn’t her mind.
Life had become a tapestry, indeed. With a great many currents crisscrossing and intermingling. It was chaotic, to say the least. ‘I wonder if Warlund has been assassinated, yet...’ she pondered quietly. He was a nice person, but the betrayal of his fleeing that she’d heard of still left her enraged for a time.
Well, here she was now, of somewhat prominent honor with the family, respected, hopefully. Skilled possibly in the shadows above quite a number of others. And even entrusted with tutoring any who would pursue such a path. It wasn't hard to appreciate such things, especially when, above all, no one made her commit any actually troubling act. They expected willingness to do anything, but respected her wishes.
Attempts at arcane were fickle at best, a light chill to her fingertips. This had uses, but no practical combat ones. In time this would get more effort, just to vary up the kit, as it were.
Settling down into a seat, her wings fluttered lightly. Slipping deep inwards and cutting out all other things, meditating quietly. Focusing intently upon the candle in the void, the old trick taught by such a close friend so long ago.
The world fell away, leaving her floating within a blank space. Nothing more than the image of a candle floating in front of her. This was purely imagination, nothing quite so grand, but it allowed her far more focus inwards and made such meditation easier.
‘Best to begin, you think?’ she asked the one companion in this space that would actually answer. The satyr had for some time wanted her to pursue this, he was a scientist for magic. Curiosity burned in his veins. ‘Of course, yes, whenever you’re ready. I wish to know as well...’
Resonating with the blood within, she began. Focusing intently upon it as his cowled eyes watched expectantly. This was the task she was given, the way to start work on something new, to understand more what was flowing in her veins. It would be a long week.