Whispering Memories
The day dawned a soft gray on the outskirts of RhyDin where the ruins of what was once a beautiful manor lay scattered amidst the new fallen snow. Thin clouds shrouded the sun and the damp chill in the morning air foretold of more to come. A swirl of midnight blue velvet, draped protectively around a slim form whose soft leather boots left hardly a trace, their steps silent in the subdued quiet. A golden brooch molded into the form of a flame clasped the hood of the ermine lined cloak firmly, its intricate and delicate detail reflecting the fine elven craftmanship. A single lock of gold escaped the hood to flutter in the light breeze when delicate hands slipped forth to check the magical wards surrounding the shattered gray stones that stood as silent sentries to the destruction. The young elven woman sighed softly, her dismay and sadness turning the corners of her soft, pink lips down as she registered their nearly spent strength. It had been years since Elessaria dared approach what once at been her home in this land— the elegant Asheby Manor. A single crystalline tear coursed down her fragile features. The powerful emotions of the demon war that destroyed her sanctuary still radiated from the earth. They flowed and pressed upon her empathic shields taunting her....daring her to lower them. Unknowingly, the mage shook her head, denying the malingering darkness its desire. Her first home, the beautiful land of Evandar had also been destroyed by demons who had been sent to capture the Lady Fire of Evandar. At least here no innocents were slaughtered, even though her innocence was finally ripped asunder, leaving her to trust no one, but herself as she wandered the realms. Eless scanned the remains, the blue flames flickering warily within her eyes, and once she deemed it safe enough, she began to slowly wend her way through them. Her trembling fingertips absently caressing a broken column here....a toppled turret there. Anything that hadn't been destroyed in the battle, had been picked through by scavengers. Even charred pieces of rare furniture had been taken and she could only hope they were used to help heat some poor person's home. Shards of glass glittered amidst the sparkling snow which made discerning between the two rather difficult. The winter wind picked up a bit, blowing little puffs of white and whispering intricately among the maze of debris. Clutching her cloak more tightly about her, Eless began to doubt the wisdom of her return. She felt unsettled, a chill seeping into her bones. Her pulse quickened and her lithe frame tensed. As the empath turned a corner, she mistepped and stifled a yelp of pain as a nearly invisible sliver of glass sliced through the sole of her boot, piercing the soft skin of her foot. She bit back an unladylike curse and perched on a toppled balcony prepared to remove the offending shard. She blinked several times to chase away the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. The tension and fatigue were taking their toll upon her. Frustrated she rubbed her eyes with the backs of her small hands. As Eless bent slightly to remove the doeskin from her tiny foot another sparkle caught her eye. She snatched at it; angrily prepared to hurl it against the caved in granite wall in her temper. As her delicate fingers wrapped around the glass, she instantly sensed its warmth. It wasn't the icy bite of cold that seeped into her hand as she expected. It was warm, it was familiar, it was almost alive to her. She hastily blew warmly on the crust of snow, a myriad of emotions whirling through her very core as the empath in her recognized it before she was consciously aware of what she clutched to her heart— an exquisite crystalline ring crafted, as only a truly gifted elven mage could, into a delicate rose. A cry of pure despair tore straight from the Lady Eless' heart and soul. Sobbing soulfully, she sank to her knees, her shields shattering their protective hold about her. Past memories of terrified screams, the scent of burning flesh overwhelmed her. Waves of fear struck her as if she were once again imprisoned in Balrog's foul grasp. The empath felt the heavy darkness of the demons' wings once again suffocate her as she heard the turrets tear from Asheby. The violent emotions whirled about the elven mage, whipping her mass of golden curls free from their hiding place as she knelt helpless and lost in their powerful grasp. Tears streaming down her distraught features she couldn't discern her own sobs from the emotional memories. She struggled to regain her center, heedless to the piercing cry of a hawk circling high above her, higher than where the average hawk flies...
The day dawned a soft gray on the outskirts of RhyDin where the ruins of what was once a beautiful manor lay scattered amidst the new fallen snow. Thin clouds shrouded the sun and the damp chill in the morning air foretold of more to come. A swirl of midnight blue velvet, draped protectively around a slim form whose soft leather boots left hardly a trace, their steps silent in the subdued quiet. A golden brooch molded into the form of a flame clasped the hood of the ermine lined cloak firmly, its intricate and delicate detail reflecting the fine elven craftmanship. A single lock of gold escaped the hood to flutter in the light breeze when delicate hands slipped forth to check the magical wards surrounding the shattered gray stones that stood as silent sentries to the destruction. The young elven woman sighed softly, her dismay and sadness turning the corners of her soft, pink lips down as she registered their nearly spent strength. It had been years since Elessaria dared approach what once at been her home in this land— the elegant Asheby Manor. A single crystalline tear coursed down her fragile features. The powerful emotions of the demon war that destroyed her sanctuary still radiated from the earth. They flowed and pressed upon her empathic shields taunting her....daring her to lower them. Unknowingly, the mage shook her head, denying the malingering darkness its desire. Her first home, the beautiful land of Evandar had also been destroyed by demons who had been sent to capture the Lady Fire of Evandar. At least here no innocents were slaughtered, even though her innocence was finally ripped asunder, leaving her to trust no one, but herself as she wandered the realms. Eless scanned the remains, the blue flames flickering warily within her eyes, and once she deemed it safe enough, she began to slowly wend her way through them. Her trembling fingertips absently caressing a broken column here....a toppled turret there. Anything that hadn't been destroyed in the battle, had been picked through by scavengers. Even charred pieces of rare furniture had been taken and she could only hope they were used to help heat some poor person's home. Shards of glass glittered amidst the sparkling snow which made discerning between the two rather difficult. The winter wind picked up a bit, blowing little puffs of white and whispering intricately among the maze of debris. Clutching her cloak more tightly about her, Eless began to doubt the wisdom of her return. She felt unsettled, a chill seeping into her bones. Her pulse quickened and her lithe frame tensed. As the empath turned a corner, she mistepped and stifled a yelp of pain as a nearly invisible sliver of glass sliced through the sole of her boot, piercing the soft skin of her foot. She bit back an unladylike curse and perched on a toppled balcony prepared to remove the offending shard. She blinked several times to chase away the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. The tension and fatigue were taking their toll upon her. Frustrated she rubbed her eyes with the backs of her small hands. As Eless bent slightly to remove the doeskin from her tiny foot another sparkle caught her eye. She snatched at it; angrily prepared to hurl it against the caved in granite wall in her temper. As her delicate fingers wrapped around the glass, she instantly sensed its warmth. It wasn't the icy bite of cold that seeped into her hand as she expected. It was warm, it was familiar, it was almost alive to her. She hastily blew warmly on the crust of snow, a myriad of emotions whirling through her very core as the empath in her recognized it before she was consciously aware of what she clutched to her heart— an exquisite crystalline ring crafted, as only a truly gifted elven mage could, into a delicate rose. A cry of pure despair tore straight from the Lady Eless' heart and soul. Sobbing soulfully, she sank to her knees, her shields shattering their protective hold about her. Past memories of terrified screams, the scent of burning flesh overwhelmed her. Waves of fear struck her as if she were once again imprisoned in Balrog's foul grasp. The empath felt the heavy darkness of the demons' wings once again suffocate her as she heard the turrets tear from Asheby. The violent emotions whirled about the elven mage, whipping her mass of golden curls free from their hiding place as she knelt helpless and lost in their powerful grasp. Tears streaming down her distraught features she couldn't discern her own sobs from the emotional memories. She struggled to regain her center, heedless to the piercing cry of a hawk circling high above her, higher than where the average hawk flies...