Sarge Potteiger
Emotional Damage
Sarge, blinking and momentarily confused, merely hurried after, quick but short strides allowing him to easily keep up with her. It was, apparently, time to speak with the other Elders.
Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos
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Exorcising the Past [Witches]
- Thread starter Sarge Potteiger
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TiCira D'Arr Hawk
Singing Mountain Clan
@[member="Ysanae Vela"] @Sarge Pottieger
Orange and yellow flames from the flickering hearthfire reflected brightly across the golden eyes of the Singing Mountain Elder, her thoughts preoccupying her mind, making her mull over the most recent state of events as well as other far more personal tidings.
Word had come earlier about an offworlder - no a freeman - coming to converse with the elders. The old one, Mother Charel, had spoken of a time long ago, of a time Dathomir had been under Nightsister rule, a dark time that had her clan practically wiped off the face of the planet -- and the two men who had saved her life.
She would not lie, curiosity grew at what kind of man this was -- especially one to have lived for so long. Neigh on four hundred years had passed since the event. What tales would he have? What news would he bring? Certainly he would be of a long lived species to have lived so long.
The crackle of the fire drew her attention, as did the subtle whispers of the Force that heightened her senses and told of approaching footsteps. There was a rather curious curio about it however, but then again, that could be due to her stay here. For those that knew her, Dathomir was the only place she felt safe enough to attempt to reconnect with the Force -- be who she was and strengthen herself within it's sanctuary. For those she cared for as much as herself.
A draw of breath made her chest rise, the iridescent red lizard skin armor she wore over the woven tunic of natural fiber reflecting the light of the fire. Her head rose, the woven braids of auburn hair swaying lightly as the natural beads of bone, stone, and semi precious gems woven in her hair lightly clinked against each other. Her gaze went to the entrance of the hut, the scent of woodburning and moss thick in the air.
There, she waited.
Orange and yellow flames from the flickering hearthfire reflected brightly across the golden eyes of the Singing Mountain Elder, her thoughts preoccupying her mind, making her mull over the most recent state of events as well as other far more personal tidings.
Word had come earlier about an offworlder - no a freeman - coming to converse with the elders. The old one, Mother Charel, had spoken of a time long ago, of a time Dathomir had been under Nightsister rule, a dark time that had her clan practically wiped off the face of the planet -- and the two men who had saved her life.
She would not lie, curiosity grew at what kind of man this was -- especially one to have lived for so long. Neigh on four hundred years had passed since the event. What tales would he have? What news would he bring? Certainly he would be of a long lived species to have lived so long.
The crackle of the fire drew her attention, as did the subtle whispers of the Force that heightened her senses and told of approaching footsteps. There was a rather curious curio about it however, but then again, that could be due to her stay here. For those that knew her, Dathomir was the only place she felt safe enough to attempt to reconnect with the Force -- be who she was and strengthen herself within it's sanctuary. For those she cared for as much as herself.
A draw of breath made her chest rise, the iridescent red lizard skin armor she wore over the woven tunic of natural fiber reflecting the light of the fire. Her head rose, the woven braids of auburn hair swaying lightly as the natural beads of bone, stone, and semi precious gems woven in her hair lightly clinked against each other. Her gaze went to the entrance of the hut, the scent of woodburning and moss thick in the air.
There, she waited.
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