Timestamp: 10th of Summer, year 496 AV.
A midday's sun stood high in the clear blue sky, keeping watch over the world below. And through the entirety of Syliras, a continuous breeze passed over, between, and though the city. Gracing the denizen with its cool touch and relieving presence. It flirted with the leaves of trees and bushes as they danced in its coming. Shadows gathered together in the shelters that would keep them; to hide from the unfeeling light. And in The Stone Garden, a small number of people gathered. A couple sat and spoke of the days happening in quiet voices. A few others stood off on their own, lost in thought or memory of loved ones passed. This was a quiet part of the city, where the loudest sound came from the birds that nested inside the bushes. They sang to each other, and to those that cared to listen to their song.
Amongst that small crowd, there was one person that seemed a little out of place. A small girl, no more then six years old, sat crouched in the middle of a small patch of grass. This was a place of solemn attitude, one that spoke of death and victory, a concept she was still to young to understand. But nobody forced her from the place, in fact, most of the occupants paid little mind to the child who played alone. Her rebellious hair moving with the breeze and tickling the back of her neck. Over the time she had spent playing in that garden of stones, dirt creeped from the ground, onto her hands. Her hands spreading it from the ground, to her clothes and face as she played. Covered in dirt as she was, she looked the part of a street urchin. But unlike the somber faces of children who lived in the streets, she wore a smile of wonder. Her imaginations running wild while she played adventure with a limp doll, she was oblivious to the others that shared the garden with her. Were her parents near by, keeping a watchful eye on the small girl, who could say?
A midday's sun stood high in the clear blue sky, keeping watch over the world below. And through the entirety of Syliras, a continuous breeze passed over, between, and though the city. Gracing the denizen with its cool touch and relieving presence. It flirted with the leaves of trees and bushes as they danced in its coming. Shadows gathered together in the shelters that would keep them; to hide from the unfeeling light. And in The Stone Garden, a small number of people gathered. A couple sat and spoke of the days happening in quiet voices. A few others stood off on their own, lost in thought or memory of loved ones passed. This was a quiet part of the city, where the loudest sound came from the birds that nested inside the bushes. They sang to each other, and to those that cared to listen to their song.
Amongst that small crowd, there was one person that seemed a little out of place. A small girl, no more then six years old, sat crouched in the middle of a small patch of grass. This was a place of solemn attitude, one that spoke of death and victory, a concept she was still to young to understand. But nobody forced her from the place, in fact, most of the occupants paid little mind to the child who played alone. Her rebellious hair moving with the breeze and tickling the back of her neck. Over the time she had spent playing in that garden of stones, dirt creeped from the ground, onto her hands. Her hands spreading it from the ground, to her clothes and face as she played. Covered in dirt as she was, she looked the part of a street urchin. But unlike the somber faces of children who lived in the streets, she wore a smile of wonder. Her imaginations running wild while she played adventure with a limp doll, she was oblivious to the others that shared the garden with her. Were her parents near by, keeping a watchful eye on the small girl, who could say?
