Sawtooth Spire unglücksfall

rain was sometimes common in the summer, showers were no longer bone-chilling as they were in the fall or early winter before snow came. mainly they were warm, sometimes humid -- they were not dark and dreadful but rather a reminder of change. change would always occur whether recipients were ready or not. today, gracious was not ready for the rain. although she had her summer coat, it was hard to deny that rain did weigh upon her shoulders. she was glad she wasn't shivering to the very least. but unlike others, she didn't rush to find cover.

she had always found a mysticism to rain, feeling the water wash away the dirt and other organic material stuch to her body; it was like a ritualistic cleansing, a holy shower to wipe away the daily sins. the land was a ready recipient to the rain, though it was the cracks of a falling tree caught her attention. and to her surprise, she wasn't the first one at the scene.

she had come from the nearby thicket until she saw the sight; a tree in the river that swelled from the excess water. a sight of danger if not handled, but hopefully the water would be strong enough to pull it in and away. the sound engulfed her ears, but the sight did not distract her from seeing the amethyst-eyed eisen. she hadn't spoken to mahler in quite some time not, she wondered how he faired with his wife and brood.

he seemed thoughtful as he walked. gracious, finding the early part of the stream where it was still narrow, leapt across and landed in muddied dirt, stone, and washed up grass. brown and black splattered against her legs like sleek dark channel boots, she strode towards mahler with large strides, a chuff left her dark lips.