S E L E N A FINCH
location: lord austen's archery tournament
status: open
an english longbow, carved intricately with embellishments of acorns, bluebells, and foxglove, whittled and worn over time with ever dependable use was expertly crafted of yew wood; warm and subtly molded in the adept grasp of its archer's adroit hands. it was not a simple weapon or a mundane tool. this was a piece of art that could quite literally pierce one through the heart. nell's father gifted the prized possession to his daughter on her thirteenth birthday.
"not every bow can be strung with brute force. if one tried to pull this by nock, it would flip around uselessly, and to step on it would warp the limbs." in a quick succession, she anchored the lower end in front of her left ankle, crossed behind her right calf, let the limbs of the bow wrap around her back, and used the weight to expertly bend the bow to string the other end. "harder the string, greater the tension, and more forceful a draw is required." she explained.
despite every effort to generally avoid any and all attention, the reluctant bachelorette could not help shining on a field such as this. auburn hair braided and pinned away from her face cascaded in contrast against the verdant fabric of her garden gown. nell would be the envy of diana, herself, in this light- resplendent with assured confidence and unbothered, effortless intimidation. "which is, of course, meant to scare you... just a little bit."
