Exploring [open]

[Ember Watergrove]

Summer, day 91, 512 AV

Ember rose as early as the sun: the morning rays lightly graced her dark blonde hair, making it look like gold. Ember adjusted her sapphire blue vest and prepared herself for a day of hunting. Ember took a deep breath of fresh air before plunging herself into the Sea of Grass for a day of hunting. Clutching on her long bow tightly in her right hand, the 16 year old silently crept, watching and listening for a chance to strike at prey, or for a chance to run from a predator.

As she crept, Ember thought she heard a noise from behind her. She stopped creeping and listened: but heard nothing. So, Ember kept going; her bow and arrow ready for anything that dare attack her. She kept hearing the noise from behind her, so she suddenly stopped and took aim, ready to fire.

[Mealla Stormsong]

“Steady!” Mealla exclaimed, holding her hands up as the girl aimed the bow at her. Her own bow was still tied to Andraste’s Yvas, and so she was weaponless – unarmed. “Don’t shoot! Please! I mean you no harm!” It was Andraste who had first alerted her to the fact that she might not be alone. The Strider had raised its head and nickered softly, ears pricking forward. The breezes had soon echoed Andraste's warning, their voices soft, calm. Not a threat then, though Mealla was quickly reassessing that as she stared down at the weapon. The girl did not look terribly skilled, and if she misfired, lost her grip just slightly, then that was it, and Mealla would be as good as dead. An arrow could kill, accident or no. She raised her eyes from the bow, and looked up at the girl, her hands still raised. She smiled tightly. “So do me a favour, yes, and lower your bow?”

[Ember Watergrove]

Ember saw that it was a fellow Drykas and immediately lowered her bow. Standing next to the Drykas is a beautiful Strider who looked like he was very close to his rider. In short, should Ember have fired, she would have an angry Strider to answer to, and that is the last thing she wanted. The Drykas herself was also beautiful: her dark brown hair running past her shoulders, and her pale blue-gray eyes seemed very thoughtful. Ember smiled in apology at the girl and said,

"Sorry about that. Being in the Sea of Grass, you can't really tell whose who until they stab you in the back." Ember kept her bow and arrow at nock, but facing downward, to show that she is no enemy to the fellow Drykas. Ember stepped toward the older girl and introduced herself, "Name's Ember. Ember Watergrove of the Sapphire Clan. Might I ask your name?"

[Mealla Stormsong]

“True,” Mealla replied quietly as she moved back to stand beside Andraste, though not before lowering her hands. She reached out and rested one hand on the Strider’s neck as she so often did, taking comfort and reassurance in the mare’s presence. They had been together for years – from the very moment she’d received Zulrav’s Mark, and it was Zulrav’s Mark that had led her out onto the Sea of Grass this very morn. She was still attempting to control the breezes and bend them to her will, though it was task that she had never found easy. Oh, she could control the gentlest of them, but she didn’t want to settle for just that; one day she would be able to control even the greatest of storms. She would. She was determined. One day. Her attention turned back to the girl, and she returned the smile, “I am Mealla Stormsong, of the Diamond Clan, and apprentice to the Watch,” though not for long, she hoped. She still dreamed of becoming a full member, but that all rested on Sama’el. Her thoughts were still so confused when it came to him, but she shook them away. Now was not the time to linger on them. “So what brings you out onto the Sea of Grass? It’s not exactly somewhere you want to be alone. Sometimes a bow isn’t enough.”

[Ember Watergrove]

Ember looked at her trusty long bow in thought. What exactly was she doing out here? Her normal excuse would be to hunt, but for some reason, she doesn't think that excuse will go by Mealla. So, Ember decided to just tell Mealla the truth.
"I've been exploring, trying to discover one of the many mysteries that the Sea of Grass holds. It's a hobby that I've always had since I was a little girl. Maybe even younger." Ember smiled at the thought of one of the Drykan warriors scolding her on running off on her own one day; Ember was about 2 and just learning how to walk then.

Upon hearing of the Watch, Ember's eyes began to glisten with hints of admiration. "I've only heard stories about the Watch," Ember admitted to Mealla. "What's it like?"

[Mealla Stormsong]

Mealla’s eyebrows rose in disbelief as she listened to the other speak, though she could not quite hide the fact that she was great impressed. It wasn’t everyday that you met someone who had explored the Sea of Grass as a child and survived. Her home was a harsh place, with its predators, its sudden weather changes, and it fires, and she had known great men - fierce warriors - who had fallen upon its soil. They’d simply set out one day and never returned, lost forever. Her father had never allowed her to stray far from the pavilion, and neither had her mother. But this girl had -? “How is it you’re still alive?” The words were out before she could stop herself, but she did not regret them. She was truly curious, and the only way to satisfy said curiosity was to ask questions. It was the Drykas way, and so she saw nothing wrong with it. “And, as for the Watch, it does not quite match what they say in the stories,” she continued, not bothering to explain just why it did not. Her thoughts turned once more to Sama’el against her will, and she bit down hard on her lip, instantly shoving them away. “It’s hard work. Tiring. Frustrating. But very much worth it.”

[Ember Watergrove]

Ember was shocked at the question. Truth is, she has no idea. She often goes back and forth between Endrykas and Sea of Grass. She never stayed there long, but still, Mealla has a point. Again, Ember can only come up with an honest answer:

"Truth of the matter is, I don't know. I never stay out here for long, but still, it's dangerous out here." Ember listened to Mealla's story about the Watch, and replied, "That's good." Then, Ember's attention was turned to the Strider and began to envy Mealla. "Your Strider's very beautiful. What's her name?"

[Mealla Stormsong]

Mealla’s expression turned to one of puzzlement, but she let the matter drop. There were times when even she didn’t feel safe out on the Sea of Grass, even though she was now eighteen, and even though she had a Strider and the breezes to warn her - an advantage most did not. The Sea of Grass was not somewhere she enjoyed being alone, though sometimes sacrifices had to be made when she wanted to reach out to Zulrav, god of storms. Zulrav would not let her be hurt, or so she hoped and prayed. Her eyes travelled to Andraste, who had taken to cropping at the grass again, and she smiled, her lips quirking. “Her name is Andraste,” she said finally, “and I would not call her beautiful. She thinks enough of herself as it is.” Her words contained only affection, and she looked at Ember once again. “And you? Have you not been chosen yet?”

[Ember Watergrove]

Ember looked down in embarassment. At 16, she is the only Drykan her age with no Strider. It is, of course, embarassing to say the least, and she hated it when others suddenly realized that she has no Strider to call her own. She loves horses, and especially Striders, but nobody has reached out to her yet, a day that she knows will still come. It just hasn't happened yet.

"Alas," Ember explained, "I have nobody. I am 16 years old and I have no Strider. I will find one soon, though, I can feel it."

[Mealla Stormsong]

“Oh,” was all Mealla said, feeling somewhat awkward, and not really knowing what else to say. “I’m... I’m sure you’ll be picked soon.” She smiled, though it lacked any real warmth or feeling, and took a step back, her hand still on Andraste’s neck. Her eyes scanned the surrounding area, as if looking for some excuse to leave. She’d never been terribly good when things got awkward; she tended to flee without so much as a backward glance; run away and hide and avoid the situation completely. If you did not acknowledge it, then it did not exist. Could not. “Are you... Are you married?” she asked suddenly, looking back at Ember and leaping on the only other subject she could think of. “Most women of sixteen are.” She wasn’t, but then she’d never particularly conformed. She’d always been the odd one out, and now that she had fled her pavilion-? Any hope of marrying was long since gone.