12-03-2021, 07:03 PM
(This post was last modified: 12-03-2021, 07:03 PM by Olive. Edited 1 time in total.)
The rootless wanderers had finally had enough of their solitude. A journey, which was supposed to take several weeks, took nearly double that. Delayed thrice (first by territorial packs, second by the golden wraith himself, third by the sudden reappearance of the titan), the trio of travelers descended upon Cloudrest like a cloud of bats in the evening, to come home to roost in their dark expanse. Though two of the three of them had never once laid eyes on this place, the spellsinger had described it well enough during that convalescence that they, too, had come to think of it as their future home and looked forward to soon settling in.
In the meantime, they waited. They rested. and they looked for bam-bam.
When the salves and poultices of herbs had done their jobs, and the two warriors were healed well enough, Olive realized they could wait no longer; not with winter and hunger looming in the ominous distance. So, that shrouded woman traipsed right up to the wafting borders of Frostchant and the mystifying woman Riannon, signaling their approach with a practiced song-upon-wind. She was finally here, with several figures to which she felt somehow soul-bound, at long last — and it felt good.
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