Location: Valkalah's Tears, Riverfall One... Two... One... Tiny footprints were scattered across the sand as Shijara moved, dancing. Sonnet, her guardian sat by the waters edge, bringing music with her as usual. The cougar watched, eyeing her closely before Shijara heard her voice. Your steps are sloppy. Shijara made a face at the animal no one else could see, but the Chaktawe straightened herself, attempting to make her movements more fluid. "Better?" There was a moment of silence where the animal just followed the girl spin and flow among the sand. Shijara was convinced she was improving, but she then heard the amused voice filled her head again, You are a like a snake given legs. Shijara huffed, slowing to a stop. Her guardian looked down the beach and stood. The Chaktawe knew she would be leaving soon. Shijara looked out among the sea and when she looked back, her guardian had vanished. She turned her attention back towards the water, seeing her pack propped up against a rock not far away. Her sketchbook laid open upon the dry sand, and she thought about resting. Shijara was feeling out of breath and a little weak, not having felt too good since the day before. Rumor had it that a stomach bug was being passed around and it would be the first time she had been sick in ages. She took a deep breath and plopped down on the sand. At least this part was familiar, even if the sea was as mysterious as ever. Being in Riverfall a little over a week had shown Shijara just how diverse the world could be and she had only seen a glimpse. Honestly, she had no idea there could be so much water in once place. She couldn't wait for the day she returned home and told her uncle. He would have loved it here. Shijara did, with this place being one of her favorites. Valkalah's Tears. She was surprised by how peaceful it was, even if the water was loud. In fact, the whole city was buzzing with activity constantly. Her fingers had not stopped humming since she reached the gates and had long since gone numb. Shijara flexed her toes, her bare feet beginning to feel icy. The air was warmer and the snow had melted, but there was still a nip. This place was beautiful, cold and wet as it might be. Finally she walked over to her sketchbook and idly flipped through its pages. Strands of dark hair that were not pulled back into a pony tail fell forward, and the feathers in her locks dangled. She had to urge to run to into the water. |