Cerulean Cape All that sound

She had made her way further up, the mountains looming ever closer. Carefully, the sylph would cast a sideways glance to its ominous presence, feeling the thunder in her heart much more loudly than the clouds and rain that roiled the very skies above. Was it possible for the dead to call for one from the grave?

And so she was placated to continue along the coastal shores. There was a clairvoyance to being separated from everything you held dear—perfect clarity finally weighted upon her slender shoulders, and the salty air instilled new life to her. @Trench and @River remained behind in the lands they had claimed, ruling now while she dredged up the shadows of the past. Argent was somewhere—accompanying her at times, and ghosting her even more.

Nondescript, the sea cringed against the storm that seemed consistent over the Wilds. Ketzia did not hold the rain with disdain, like so many. Her pallid coat clung to her very bones, perhaps hiding the beauty that seemed to be the opinion of many onlookers. Instead, the exotic grace of her muzzle swung to the direction of another among the roughened shorelines, and she considered the presence she had stumbled across.

Whether it was her very heart stuttering at the thought of the mountain’s shadow cast upon her or mere curiosity, she continued forward, pointed eyes of bright green grazing over the stranger who seemed fallen upon the ground. “Defeat from the weather, or defeat from life?” Her voice was wispy smoke—a raindrop trailing down from the tip of her nose as she stared at the stranger.