Heart, body, and soul. Simply, a person was not anything without all three of these. These that had dictated her even in service of others carried her and guided her in the twenty three years she had been alive.
She was called Nejara, a name that meant "tiny dancer"among the Gusari, named by the man who had claim on her and her mother until she was seven. From the time she was that age, she had spent it in the tent of one of the holy and honorable Wiseman called a Klaer.
A history of trials and growing brought her to the age of ascension. Markings inked along her spine tell the tale of that accomplishment. It would not be until she had entered her eighteenth year that she was brought into the feral lands of Rhy'din from the Gusari Province that lay to its far west along the Black Sands coastline.
In Rhy'din, she was lost from things she knew and was found and stumbled into areas completely unfamiliar. She knew love and duty as well as heartache and loss. Men, women, and creatures of all sorts came to be known as well. Some feared while others were held dear and cherished.
When there was loss a second time and after an ill reputed creature she had come to care for tried to kill her, she withdrew from sight and Rhy'din altogether. Much of it all was remembered and some forgotten.
After several years of being absent, she returned to find the house she had bought from an Elfin merchant had been ransacked and in ruins with seemingly fire damage to what was there. Nothing that had been hers was there.
Oddly, as Nejara packed the few things she could claim as hers these years she did not mourn the loss of things from the house. Never had she had too much or felt comfortable with the idea of it. What she had been before Rhy'din had never really left her. Ebony eyes looked around the room rented at the inn she had spent a lot of time in over the last several months. Left hand lifted to quiet the soft clattering of stones that dripped from leather strands at the end of several, fine braids.
The old, leather bag was placed to the foot of the bed and opened to check that she had brought all that was hers. Azure dress lay atop the set of dark blue silks and gossamer that she'd worn years ago when she first arrived. A couple more simple dresses and an extra set of soft soled boots were there. Two items of jewelry and a small leather bag of coins. And four, small ovals with the paintings done by a craftsman of those she had called family were each carefully wrapped in linen and lay within the bag as well. The weather worn cloak that was too big for her was rolled neatly like a bedroll and was picked up from the bed, along with the bag of what was hers.
Another look around to the room, gaze scoured it to make certain she hadn't missed anything before she stepped out and closed the door behind her. She was headed towards West End, to where Sid and Scott lived and had welcomed her to do the same.
She was called Nejara, a name that meant "tiny dancer"among the Gusari, named by the man who had claim on her and her mother until she was seven. From the time she was that age, she had spent it in the tent of one of the holy and honorable Wiseman called a Klaer.
A history of trials and growing brought her to the age of ascension. Markings inked along her spine tell the tale of that accomplishment. It would not be until she had entered her eighteenth year that she was brought into the feral lands of Rhy'din from the Gusari Province that lay to its far west along the Black Sands coastline.
In Rhy'din, she was lost from things she knew and was found and stumbled into areas completely unfamiliar. She knew love and duty as well as heartache and loss. Men, women, and creatures of all sorts came to be known as well. Some feared while others were held dear and cherished.
When there was loss a second time and after an ill reputed creature she had come to care for tried to kill her, she withdrew from sight and Rhy'din altogether. Much of it all was remembered and some forgotten.
After several years of being absent, she returned to find the house she had bought from an Elfin merchant had been ransacked and in ruins with seemingly fire damage to what was there. Nothing that had been hers was there.
Oddly, as Nejara packed the few things she could claim as hers these years she did not mourn the loss of things from the house. Never had she had too much or felt comfortable with the idea of it. What she had been before Rhy'din had never really left her. Ebony eyes looked around the room rented at the inn she had spent a lot of time in over the last several months. Left hand lifted to quiet the soft clattering of stones that dripped from leather strands at the end of several, fine braids.
The old, leather bag was placed to the foot of the bed and opened to check that she had brought all that was hers. Azure dress lay atop the set of dark blue silks and gossamer that she'd worn years ago when she first arrived. A couple more simple dresses and an extra set of soft soled boots were there. Two items of jewelry and a small leather bag of coins. And four, small ovals with the paintings done by a craftsman of those she had called family were each carefully wrapped in linen and lay within the bag as well. The weather worn cloak that was too big for her was rolled neatly like a bedroll and was picked up from the bed, along with the bag of what was hers.
Another look around to the room, gaze scoured it to make certain she hadn't missed anything before she stepped out and closed the door behind her. She was headed towards West End, to where Sid and Scott lived and had welcomed her to do the same.