02-24-2018, 12:19 AM
Around 10:00 pm, a few weeks into the voyage to Lagalla
Mistral wove casually through the narrow halls of the Atlas--the large ship that had become her most recent home base. She blew her bangs out of her eyes as she came to the top of a staircase--or, rather, more of a ladder--that lead further into the belly of the ship, and the woman easily bounded down the narrow stairs. She hopped off two steps from the bottom, landing with her feet planted firmly on the wooden floor, before she twirled on her heel to continue down yet another narrow hall in the seemingly endless rows of corridors.
It was late evening, yet the magical flames flickering along the walls a evenly spaced intervals kept the darkness of the cool night from creeping too far into the interior of the massive vessel and prevented the tall woman from stumbling as she strolled past several small rooms with drawn curtains.
She was dressed warmly, but comfortably. Most of her dark skin was covered by thick leggings and a woolen top lined with soft fur. A small, dark furred capelet was wrapped snugly over her shoulders, further breaking up what chill still hung in the air even this far out to sea. In the magical light, her eyes showed the brightest, reflecting the flickering orange glow in slitted pupils that had naturally widened to wide ovals to account for the dimness.
However, Mistral spared most of the rooms barely a glance as she headed toward one of the several whose owner she personally knew. A soft, lilting tune--likely some sort of sea shanty--had been rising and falling in the back of her throat, though it trailed off as she paused just outside.
The shadow of a playful smirk danced on her lips as she casually leaned against the wooden wall. While the thick, deep blue curtain was drawn, the flickering light dancing below its hem was enough of a clue that the recently promoted occupant was still awake. Her eyes drifted to the the thin, glowing line, and then rose again to eye level.
She ran a hand through her hair, letting the blue locks fall back into place on her forehead where they always seemed to perfect obscure the large scar there, then loosely curled her fist and rapped quickly on the door frame with the back of her knuckle.
Mistral wove casually through the narrow halls of the Atlas--the large ship that had become her most recent home base. She blew her bangs out of her eyes as she came to the top of a staircase--or, rather, more of a ladder--that lead further into the belly of the ship, and the woman easily bounded down the narrow stairs. She hopped off two steps from the bottom, landing with her feet planted firmly on the wooden floor, before she twirled on her heel to continue down yet another narrow hall in the seemingly endless rows of corridors.
It was late evening, yet the magical flames flickering along the walls a evenly spaced intervals kept the darkness of the cool night from creeping too far into the interior of the massive vessel and prevented the tall woman from stumbling as she strolled past several small rooms with drawn curtains.
She was dressed warmly, but comfortably. Most of her dark skin was covered by thick leggings and a woolen top lined with soft fur. A small, dark furred capelet was wrapped snugly over her shoulders, further breaking up what chill still hung in the air even this far out to sea. In the magical light, her eyes showed the brightest, reflecting the flickering orange glow in slitted pupils that had naturally widened to wide ovals to account for the dimness.
However, Mistral spared most of the rooms barely a glance as she headed toward one of the several whose owner she personally knew. A soft, lilting tune--likely some sort of sea shanty--had been rising and falling in the back of her throat, though it trailed off as she paused just outside.
The shadow of a playful smirk danced on her lips as she casually leaned against the wooden wall. While the thick, deep blue curtain was drawn, the flickering light dancing below its hem was enough of a clue that the recently promoted occupant was still awake. Her eyes drifted to the the thin, glowing line, and then rose again to eye level.
She ran a hand through her hair, letting the blue locks fall back into place on her forehead where they always seemed to perfect obscure the large scar there, then loosely curled her fist and rapped quickly on the door frame with the back of her knuckle.