Everything was serene. The soft warm breeze flowing in from inland. The calm brushing of waves against the shore below. All life around laid clear and bare, welcoming the young priestress in her meditation. In this perfect state of mind she offers her prayers to the grave at her feet in total unanimity and all track of time lost in a sea of harmony and fulfillment.
The discordant chirping and whistling of birds nearby finally pulled her out of her meditation.
"Blessed be your light." she whispered with soft words before standing upright and reaching for her Khakkhara. Already the faint rustling of grass and the crunching of the ground gave away the man approaching from behind her. She continued to stare out at the sea, savoring all the emotions life painted for her. She may have been here for only minutes, or perhaps hours. But finally looking back at the loosely dressed man approaching from the tents she realizes it has likely been days. And her stommach agrees with her.
The man stops infront of her, easily two heads taller than her, wearing terribly outdated, losely fitted, gold tangzhuang with two firebreathing dragon motives on either side of him, and the appropriate pants to go with them. His arm is rested on an overly large curved sword fastened to his hip, with an intricately dragon-shaped handle and the familliar red pommel swaying gently to and fro. He gives her an unconventional nod, tilting his head only the bare minimum, and smiling at her. Most anyone would greatly take offense to this informal gesture, but not her. She grasps her Khakkhara tightly, feeling the welling demand for nurishment building in her, and brushes her soft red hair out of the way of her strong blue eyes. The faint tickles of hair against her forehead and nose causing her ears to twitch.
"Shall we?"
The discordant chirping and whistling of birds nearby finally pulled her out of her meditation.
"Blessed be your light." she whispered with soft words before standing upright and reaching for her Khakkhara. Already the faint rustling of grass and the crunching of the ground gave away the man approaching from behind her. She continued to stare out at the sea, savoring all the emotions life painted for her. She may have been here for only minutes, or perhaps hours. But finally looking back at the loosely dressed man approaching from the tents she realizes it has likely been days. And her stommach agrees with her.
The man stops infront of her, easily two heads taller than her, wearing terribly outdated, losely fitted, gold tangzhuang with two firebreathing dragon motives on either side of him, and the appropriate pants to go with them. His arm is rested on an overly large curved sword fastened to his hip, with an intricately dragon-shaped handle and the familliar red pommel swaying gently to and fro. He gives her an unconventional nod, tilting his head only the bare minimum, and smiling at her. Most anyone would greatly take offense to this informal gesture, but not her. She grasps her Khakkhara tightly, feeling the welling demand for nurishment building in her, and brushes her soft red hair out of the way of her strong blue eyes. The faint tickles of hair against her forehead and nose causing her ears to twitch.
"Shall we?"
