A Change In Seasons

Tales of S'jira and others from the barbaric lands of Llothgar and beyond.

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S'jira
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Gentle Shadow

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Location: RhyDin or Llothgar

A Change In Seasons

Post by S'jira »

(Posted: Wed Nov 24, 2010 9:23 am )

The morning broke with an eerie paleness of sunlight filtering weakly through winter clouds as best as it could. S'jira slowly woke to find the Loft in a pallid, white-wash of that light. Dark eyes closed and opened again, trying to determine how early it was, but the wintry light refused to give her hints.

Heavy layers of pelts and cloth that blanketed her in the bed were pushed aside and sat up on the side of it. The sleep had been a restful one and, for once in some time, she woke without feeling the weight of exhaustion.

With long, dark brown hair mussed from her slumbering, her hands pushed those locks back from a slightly angular face. Bleary gaze spent towards the window. Curtains she had made for it early last year hung to either side of it, not keeping the pallid light from entering the room. Material of her soft-leather gown caressed her skin as she abandoned the bed.

A gasp left her to feel the cold, wooden planks of the flooring beneath her. Gingerly, she stepped aside to the small, stony hearth and tucked her feet into her boots. She paused just long enough to drag a blanket from the back of a chair and push the iron kettle and hook that had water in it to hang it over the low fire, before she went to stand before the window.

Touch met with the winter-cold latch of the window, finding that it was still unlocked. It was a reflexive thing to do these days. She could not bring herself to lock it yet. There was reason for it that S'jira could not give up just yet.

For months, truly about a year, there had been no sign of Panther. Not a slip of paper, not a voiced message by courier of any kind. None spoken with had seen him. In those early months, there was worry. Worry had bled into pain, over time, and pain to that of a certain kind of numbness that she was becoming less and less aware of. And though she did not love him any less, she had come to the understanding that he may never return.

After the latch was checked, she gave into a turn and knelt upon the animal pelts she kept layered on the flagstones hearthside. Knees found them chilly in that first, immediate moment, then quick to warm beneath her knees and shins. The dying fire was seen to with a stirring of its embers before she reached to the stacking grate to the right and took from it a small piece of wood. There was no need for a larger one since, by midday and after her bath, she would not be within the Loft the rest of the day until late that night.

Memories of Llothgar and her recent visit there seeped into her thoughts while the fire was tended to. The feral terrain of jagged mountains, as well as a desert and plains. These hard lands were Llothgar: a heaven and hell, all at once.

A half-smile was found to think of her sister and the family that had once called Master Kiroth brother, uncle, and more. The telling of his death to them had been difficult to her, drudging up the weeks when S'jira had first made her way into RhyDin in Master Kiroth's wake.

There had been trouble and, to that very day, she believe it was Master Gracus' doing. But gentler moments had outweighed harder ones during that visit and the small woman could smile to think back on that time a month or more ago.

Once the fire was going well again, she gathered up what she needed to bathe with. Warmer by the fire than anywhere else in the Loft, she put the large basin and toweling cloth to the floor hearthside. With care, the kettle that had been warming over the fire was pulled outwards and taken from its iron hook. She poured it into the basin, watching the steam waft upwards from it. The blanket was dropped to the floor about her knees and then her soft-leather sleeping garment was hauled off and put to the seat of a nearby chair. Too long on bathing was not spent as the chill had her shivering and encouraged her to hurry.

Teeth just starting to chatter on her part, she used the toweling cloth with a manner of haste to dry off in a hurry. A whimpered out sound from her, she was soon on her feet and opening one of the trunks. From it, she pulled her white underdress that had sleeves to it. It was wriggled into without delay. She pulled the long, dark lengths of her hair out from between her back and the cloth of the dress, letting it then fall free. A second garment from the trunk was a sleeveless russet overdress. The toggles of it were fastened snugly from breasts to navel before she was seeking out her boots by the fire again.

The basin was dumped out of the window, shutting it in a hurry thereafter and putting the basin and cloth away. The small one did not spend too much time in the Loft after that, after making up the bed with gentled care, but took with her the old cloak and left by way of the ladder known to descend into the stables below.

She was soon headed out of the livery and in the direction of the inn where breakfast was needed before heading to the southern part of RhyDin could be thought of. The cemetery and one particular grave were steep within her thoughts. A visit there was long overdue.
ڿڰۣ-ڰۣ ڿڰۣ-ڰۣ ڿڰۣ-ڰۣ

~S'jira~
Much can be said without saying a word.
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