Arandolya The only limit is the Stars . . . Timestamp: 56th of Winter, 511 AV The wind swirled, almost visible, something you could've sworn you saw out of the corner of your eye, but lost when you turn to peek. It was a tangible thing, felt almost alive as it brushed bare flesh. It was a pleasant cold, a cooling aspect on a hot day. This far above the ground one would assume it would be quite cold. Here though, it was warm, and the breeze was welcomed. She was wearing a simply white Vinati, wrapping to tie around her neck. Her Bryda was white too, with clear glass beads decorating it in a way that seemed to play in the sunlight. The white made sense in this world, being on this cloud land that her unshod feet fell silently on, although she felt she'd fall through with every step. Red hair was the only colored thing in this world, a beacon in the sunlight, glowing like fire. Golden eyes were framed by such flames, and peered at the rolling white cloudscape in search of anything. She'd forgotten who she was, why she was here. The perfect dream. Of where she wouldn't know herself, and could find herself just as easily as find a new self. She tried to grasp on to a name, at least. A symbol of something perhaps. All she remembered was she wasn't afraid of height. Which was good, as she walked close to the edge of the cloud, and was content to watch the scene below. "Innnaarrrttaaa." The name perked a memory. She turned, but only saw the frustrating glimpses of wind. "Innnaarrtttaaa." Again. It was a part of her. It made her shiver slightly in recognition. "Inarta?" her mouth moved to produce the sounds, and it rolled off her tongue deliciously. "Inarta. Perhaps that is my name?" she voiced aloud, seeing if anything would happen with such a proclamation. "No. It is not my name. It is . . . me?" she continued, molding the cloud below her into a sort of chair to rest upon. She must figure such things out. Or it would bother her greatly. "I shall sit and think upon this matter." Such words sounded formal and like it would get something done. So she did just that. She sat, and welcomed the sun's warmth, loosening her Vinati slightly. The female blinked and her head tilted, resting on her palm which was rested on the armrest of her cloudchair. Although dreams were normally for some inner need or want, she was just content to sit and relax, unaware that was an inner want of the self that was just out of her reach. |