Nesta one shot
A storm had hit the Illyrian camp days before Nesta arrived. The warriors were still working around the camp to mending the buildings that hadn't been able to stand up to the storm. The road was still covered in debris carried on from the woods that crept in from the edges of the small village. The distant sounds of a child crying could be heard over whistling wind. Though Nesta favored romance novels, she'd heard enough horror stories to know immediately what type of setting she just walked into. Nothing good would come from this town.
Her wide eyes continued to take everything in as she followed close behind Cassian. He legs were long and he walked with purpose. Most Illyrians stared with dead eyes as she passed them. Cassian had said they'd been warned not to talk to her. Some didn't have the courage to stay on the street and booms could be heard as they took to the sky.
A workspace was open and smoke was rising from a fire. A silversmith worked away shaping some weapon. His tool creating a deafening cling that followed them as they walked away.
Nesta thought desperately of the her little hovel in Valeris. The quiet home with 4 locks. 4 locks that she used to shut everyone out. She could stay in all day and not see a soul. There was no one to judge her, no unmet expectations, only the slivers of peace she had made since the war. The strings of her existence she desperately clung to, trying to stay whole.
Cassian lead her to a house not too far from the practice ring. Everyone watched as she climbed the steps. If she had let her emotions in she would have cried.
