Post by aine on Nov 5, 2007 19:04:40 GMT -4
True peace was in the eye of the beholder. Áine, on the other hand, didn't have the passive outlook on such a concept as the others might. Oh how the trust was broken. The kings, or the rightful kings family were dead. Left to weigh their magnificent kingdom on such weak and undeserving shoulders. She thought it a disgrace, a mockery at the potential Icarius could bring to the Elven people. Regardless of her vile opinion of the new lord, even a hopeful walk in this fruitless forest could keep her mind occupied other wise; run amok.
A hand through her soft green hair and she found herself eased. Her shoulders were tense right up into her neck. She suspected it from slinging so many arrows the previous night, practicing for the sake of practice. Her hand fell from her hair and ran along the nape of her neck, pinching the muscle that held it all together. She had to admit that it didn't help. Otherwise not a physical strain, but a stressed strain that her mind was now wearing on her body. She coerced her thoughts into believing it was just the new times, the new problems that were arising. Eventually she persuaded her mind into blaming the things around her, and never herself or how far she pushed herself in doing.
The hand dropped and now grazed her side with gentle swipes, goose skin rising beneath her flesh at the awkward feel of her long black nails. Stained from the pool of blood they bathed in so many days in battle. Áine was an interesting woman. Without even conceited pretense, she was beautiful and she was strong. When it is a fact, it is not vain to say so. Her eyes were like emeralds that fastened the brightest green, challenging the forest around her. Her lips were so very plump, or full as she preferred to address them. She was thin and athletic, with a tone stomach that hinted the lines abs though they didn't quite define as much as the muscles in her legs or arms. She is a fighter, a warrior. No time to make herself pretty for the men to fawn. She had other priorities.
Her mind was currently stuck on the hierarchy of the Elves, and how utterly foolishly they had taken to another leader other then the destined one Icarius. Was she more heated then he was? It sure felt that way with how he seemed to shrug it off when around her or his men. Áine tempted her fingers as she rolled the digits across an arrow, examining it with a lost look. What if she took care of it herself? Nobody would notice.. nobody would care.. if the weak was destroyed and the true, noble leader replaced them with gumption...
"Thinking like that will get you killed Áine.." She told herself in a mumbled sigh. The tip of her index finger slid away from the arrows point, as she slid it back into the holster on her back. Meanwhile her head seemed to tilt, eyes keen on the rest of the forest. No matter the name of peace that it held, if she came across a being of difference, she would defy them with proud elven attitude.