Coralie had gone through her morning routine of waking up, washing her face with water alone, a long, silent breakfast filled with her day's plans, and then the whole walking process to take her there. She had waved at her acquaintances, said "Hello, how is your morning?" It was very early, it was just dawn, and not many were out. This, in fact, made her mornings easier as she had to be less social. To anyone who asked, this would be easily admitted with a small pang out guilt. When she ever tried to explain why she disliked socializing, she often came off as arrogant, and immature. So as well as people, she tried to avoid the question.
Her walks to The Suren Cliffs was much more silent than her walks to any other place. This was enjoyable, and she was happy for the extra alone-time to think. Her mind swept across subjects such as cooking, Endals, Wind Eagles, BlackSmithing, people and their opinions, herself, and philosophical thoughts which usually crept into her mind numerous times a day.
To think about cooking and blacksmithing was second nature. Her mother cooked and baked so well, and it was all Coralie could do not to throw away her pots and pans in her frustrated attempts to mimic her mother's dishes. Her mother had always said, "You have great potential in the kitchen!", though that was never where Coralie wanted to belong. Nor did she want to belong, even less, along her blacksmith father who tried to teach her in the subject, but much more there than any where else-- her attention span failed her. Always, her mind would wander off to things such as Wind Eagles, their riders, how as she grew her chances of riding alongside them grew less and less, and that light grew dimmer and dimmer.
As she approached the cliffs, her mind decided to rest upon the philosophical things. It would seem less stressful to think about these things, yet it was almost more stressful to do so. This is what set her apart from the other Inartans, those who were her potential friends. Probably why, when she had the guts to speak of what she thought as a child, made her seem "weird" and automatically made her want to have nearly nothing to do with anyone else. This she thought about everyday, how maybe if she thought differently, she would lead a less outcast-ish role and possibly a popular lifestyle.
She needed a new daily routine. This was pathetic.
Though Coralie could swim, she hardly ever did. She wasn't a fantastic swimmer, either. Staying afloat, paddling, easy. And that's when she decided to actually jump off of one of the cliffs, this time. Of course that was crazy talk for Coralie. Absolutely crazy.
She stood on a rock about 17 feet high wondering what she was doing. She could jump off of a rock ten feet high... maybe scour for one shorter... But no, she stood there, on an estimated seventeen high rock, and looked down. She took a big, large breath, held it-- and jumped.
When she landed, she was surprised she was even still alive, much more was she surprised she had no sprained ankles and that her head was above water. She tread the water for a while, letting it all sink in. She never actually realized she was going to jump until.. well.. she did. The fear had taken over as soon as her feet had left the comfort of ground, and she wanted to scream but couldn't. She felt much braver than she really was in that moment, and for some reason, she wanted to jump from higher.
It was most unlike her ways, to just keep pushing. This would have been enough for her and she would have talked herself out of it. But this wasn't usually. She had been sick and tired of just doing nothing, just sitting there. Of hiding herself away from doing something dangerous. But even as she climbed higher, she knew that without someone provoking her-- something like this wasn't going to happen again.