3rd of Fall, Past Midnight
She wandered, her body aching. In a forest, dark and cold, owls hooting in way that seemed to be more cliché than real, but her internal voice felt calm and at peace. As if she belonged here. In this fresh, earthy, strangely eery midst of the woods. Her vision flashed to a clearing in the woods, and there appeared a table, similar to the one she sat at every day, at the Malt House. The sybil walked over to it, as if by memory knowing that she usually walks towards it, and found herself slipping off her pack from her shoulders and beginning her usual routine.
She placed the silk cloth over the table, the dark green and orange patterning bringing a warmth to the otherwise cold, cool-toned space. She set up a candle, lit the wick with her flint and steel, then walked over to the chairs that appeared on the sides that they usually sat.
Rohka wore her silk headscarf—it matched the table. She sat, taking out her cards and her dice, spreading them out.
She waited. As she usually did at the Malt House.
But there was no one around here, in the clearing, and all she could hear were crickets chirping in the grass.
She wandered, her body aching. In a forest, dark and cold, owls hooting in way that seemed to be more cliché than real, but her internal voice felt calm and at peace. As if she belonged here. In this fresh, earthy, strangely eery midst of the woods. Her vision flashed to a clearing in the woods, and there appeared a table, similar to the one she sat at every day, at the Malt House. The sybil walked over to it, as if by memory knowing that she usually walks towards it, and found herself slipping off her pack from her shoulders and beginning her usual routine.
She placed the silk cloth over the table, the dark green and orange patterning bringing a warmth to the otherwise cold, cool-toned space. She set up a candle, lit the wick with her flint and steel, then walked over to the chairs that appeared on the sides that they usually sat.
Rohka wore her silk headscarf—it matched the table. She sat, taking out her cards and her dice, spreading them out.
She waited. As she usually did at the Malt House.
But there was no one around here, in the clearing, and all she could hear were crickets chirping in the grass.