Spring 42nd, 511AV It had been a long day, and the knight was less than pleased. It was common for Alevadra to be in a grumpy mood, but toward was particularly bad, perhaps she woke up on the wrong side of the bed, perhaps she had a kink in her neck, either way, it was not a good day to pester the woman. It had become habit for the knight to visit the stone garden on her off days. It gave her a chance to talk to Patrick, to her mother. The knight had removed her armor and wore a simple tunic belted at the waist with her sword happily occupying it's place at her side. Her hair was short, she had only cut it a few days ago, it was heating up, and the breeze was pleasant against her neck. The strands that hung down in her face where deep hues on blue and purple, it appeared mostly black, but the sun refracted the strange colors. The woman walked slowly into the garden, nodding solemnly to anyone who happened across her path. She was a knight, and looked the part, her tunic had a windoak stitched onto it, the symbol of the knights. She was respected, and in someways, she felt avoided and feared. It had never been Ale's intention to strike fear into anyone who was undeserving. Black boots crossed the threshold into the garden, small stones surrounded the woman, but they all meant little to nothing to her, her brown eyes were focused, her steps were solid, intentional. The Druva walked to the far wall and knelt, one knee pressed against the ground, her right foot was against the ground, creating a perfect angle at the knee. The dark haired woman bowed her head to the stones, on hand resting on the hilt of her blade, the other on her upright knee. “It's been a long day, Patrick.” She muttered to the ground. Brown eyes flickered up to look over the stones, her eyes landing on a particularly plain one. Her left hand moved from her knee to lightly graze the stone. “It's been a long year already. And I fear it's only now beginning.” She said with a groan, turning herself to lean back against the wall, eyes closed. “You remember when you got drunk and I took care of you?” She chuckled to herself. “I could have skinned you.” Ale stuck her leg out in front of her, and pulled the other one in, her knee sticking towards the sky. A hand reached up to squeeze the bridge of her nose. “I really should stop talking to stones.” Ale muttered. She hadn't accept Patrick's death, how could she have? Her mother's death, then Patrick. The woman had found herself distancing herself from her father, if he died, she didn't want it to hurt as much as the others had. You have to move on at some point. Patrick would have wanted that, right? Right. Ale opened her eyes and moved her hand from her face. It was quiet here, peaceful, the kind of place someone could nap undisturbed. The squires didn't come up here often, it gave Ale a chance to get away from everyone else, everything else. Maybe you'll get sent out soon. Wouldn't that be nice? Just get away from everything. |