☀ ⊰ starter for @vaenndyr ⊱
How easily time seemed a to WITTLE away the markers long since inflicted upon the world. Weeks had turned into months, and thereafter into years and centuries, and all that was once right and fair seemed to shift into a realm of INFINITE possibility. Rýn had long understood that notion, that what once was often would never be again. That was why she treasured time with old things, treasured the moments where the glitz and glamor of the Modern world could not CONSUME her gentle heart.
That was how the daughter of Bel found herself amongst a collection of antiques and artifacts from the many long centuries. How lucky she had been in this new life, coming to meet the welders of new magic. While UNEQUIPPED herself, Rýn was trying to unlock the many fragments of mayhem and mystery lost to her people. The very people who spurned her, destroyed her, and for what? Who she was BORN to? But even so, millennia had passed, and so many rich lives had fallen between then and now.
Now as the blooming sorcerer supreme began his many duties, she took interest in the dust scattered mystical items left in her care. One particularly being the Darkhold, an ancient text most sought by ALL manner of evil. Delicate hands tackled the cleaning and inspection of the binding, fully immersed in her work, that was until she felt the prickle of downy hairs on the back of her neck. A presence surely, even one CLOAKED from her sight, Strange was not yet due back -- so the uneasiness sept into her bones. Slowly, the relic is placed back into its vault, locked while the girl searches throughout the room for a sign.
“To steal from this place would be FOOLISH, even if you managed to escape its master, the items here bend their wills to no man.” Perhaps ushered to the wind, as often her fears and scars of the past made her skittish, but this seemed real. The ice in her veins seemed very real.
