She left the Inn, after Cassandra?s confession of who she was, at a dead run. Her lungs burned in protest as she pushed her body beyond what it could handle, panting breaths gasped in. Thin fey-slippers pounded on the cobblestone streets of RhyDin during midmorning as she jostled passed merchant and patrons alike. She stumbled once, falling to the ground with a young girl in a mess of limbs. She quickly went about getting them both to their feet only to cry out when emerald eyes smiled up at her from beneath a mop of lavender hair in apology. She turned and ran once more, leaving the puzzled little brunette with honey colored eyes to stare after her.
There was only one place she could think of to go, to reason through these mad thoughts pounding in her brain and get control of herself once more. Control was important. Control was needed to function. Functioning was needed to keep alive. She had been doing botched job of it all since she had stepped foot in the city once more.
She pushed through the trees and bushes that made up the woods, heedless to the small cuts and bruises that were earning their mark on her. She burst through the woods into the familiar clearing with sweat beading on her forehead as she was dressed far too warmly for the pleasant summer day; dark clothing hiding away her bandaged and bruised body from prying eyes. She threw down the sword from her back into the overgrown grass as she moved along the path to the ruins of the Forsaken Blade Clubhouse. Here, she was home.
There was only one place she could think of to go, to reason through these mad thoughts pounding in her brain and get control of herself once more. Control was important. Control was needed to function. Functioning was needed to keep alive. She had been doing botched job of it all since she had stepped foot in the city once more.
She pushed through the trees and bushes that made up the woods, heedless to the small cuts and bruises that were earning their mark on her. She burst through the woods into the familiar clearing with sweat beading on her forehead as she was dressed far too warmly for the pleasant summer day; dark clothing hiding away her bandaged and bruised body from prying eyes. She threw down the sword from her back into the overgrown grass as she moved along the path to the ruins of the Forsaken Blade Clubhouse. Here, she was home.