Edgy and tense Sorcha had woken early in the predawn hours. An uncertain feeling drove her and she wasn't able to define exactly what it was. Such times she considered irritating and thus sought to quiet the voices through physical actions. Such means had become a habit, which was generally effective for settling her emotions down to more manageable levels.
Feet shod in soft-soled boots, her passage retained the quiet but the sensation sent a jolt through her as she ran. Wind blew past and pulled at the long ponytail of dark hair as she surged off and down the long winding lane from the keep. It was calm, peaceful for few ever stirred at this time aside from the guards on the wall. To them, her form faded from sight; the dark pants and equally black sweater remained her shield of the moment.
She ran until the voices were finally silent and those emotions a mere whisper, the only watchers left were the creatures of the dense trees she passed. The feeling of being on the very edge of a precipice also started to subside. The ebb of sensation granted her a blissful moment of rare peace. The instinctive, gut feeling that something was about happen abated slightly. It wasn't that Sorcha didn't wish to listen, but had learned long before that until it showed itself, the sense alone would keep her unsettled if she allowed it.
There was only a hint, a bite of frost in the air, echoed by the nearly translucent puffs of breath in the air as she jogged along the dirt-grooved road. She had run a few miles through the forest shrouded lane and was now returning to the keep, feeling relaxed enough to complete her usual workout. Her emotions were once more contained within and hidden from others.
The large gray structure stood a near-black silhouette against the faint light cast by the first rays of the rising sun, rising up before her as she crested the hill's rise and to move through the archway into the expansive courtyard. Gharnholme could never boast beauty in its crafting, but it did exude a certain kind of curious power where it stood high in the mountains almost part of the cliff face. It was normally quiet and still this time, when the world seemed to pause, holding its breath until the first fingers of the warm light touched the horizon.
Life stirred in the shallow valley just below the keep. The courtyard offering a clear unobstructed view of the flickering of lights that breathed to flame. Pausing for time, Sorcha pressed one hand against a support pillar and stretched. Easing the ache the cold left lingering upon her limbs. It had been some time since she had seen so many camps dotting the landscape. Of course with the War Council commencing this day it was to be expected. Soon the road to the keep would be full of travelers, coming from all over.
Eventually the urge for coffee drew her away from the sight below. Sorcha strolled unmolested across the cobblestone yard. Thoughts already moving toward more pressing matters such as the beckoning scent of the rich Yeadian coffee that drifted out from the kitchens.
The large gray structure stood a near-black silhouette against the faint light cast by the first rays of the rising sun, rising up before her as she crested the hill's rise and to move through the archway into the expansive courtyard. Gharnholme could never boast beauty in its crafting, but it did exude a certain kind of curious power where it stood high in the mountains almost part of the cliff face. It was normally quiet and still this time, when the world seemed to pause, holding its breath until the first fingers of the warm light touched the horizon.
Life stirred in the shallow valley just below the keep. The courtyard offering a clear unobstructed view of the flickering of lights that breathed to flame. Pausing for time, Sorcha pressed one hand against a support pillar and stretched. Easing the ache the cold left lingering upon her limbs. It had been some time since she had seen so many camps dotting the landscape. Of course with the War Council commencing this day it was to be expected. Soon the road to the keep would be full of travelers, coming from all over.
Eventually the urge for coffee drew her away from the sight below. Sorcha strolled unmolested across the cobblestone yard. Thoughts already moving toward more pressing matters such as the beckoning scent of the rich Yeadian coffee that drifted out from the kitchens.