Blackfeather Woods symphony no. 25 in g minor

The hardworking little devil filled her time with trips to and from the homestead, there wasn't many faces to bother, even less so when the ever-elusive Fjall went to secure the borders, and Arktos and Nephele remained in each other's company. She wasn't confident enough in her own standing to be thrusting herself into their business quite yet, much as she'd like to. Bard? Well.... that was a solid no-go, the guy reeked of dirt and pungeant man-scent and she could only stomach so much of that... And he was dick too, so she wasn't exactly itching to get into another scrap.

Beyond the occasional crossing of paths she'd had with Dreven out in the territory, Envy wasn't all that socially fulfilled. Friends, she lacked in, beyond her own hopeful, hasty attachments; but those were only one way, even one blinded by self-absorbed endeavours could recognize it. She did not deserve attachment and yet she yearned for it so so desperately. Latched onto what scraps she could get her wretched, grubby hands around.

And so she stifled her loneliness with tasks, creating her own trail through the flatlands, into spaces outside of the plains in search for more reclusive herbs and plants. She skittered across rocky terrain and forested, unshackled, and unkept. Free to peruse, yet vulnerable to... really anything, she was no gold star fighter. It was on this most recent outing that she'd come upon the trail of another; a smoke plume of a girl, with a purposeful stride and a killer's look in her eyes.

EEK! She gawked and for that she was seen before she could reroute, and so began a silent, eerie staring contest. Envy's own gaze of harsh vermillion against the empty husk of gunmetal silver.

...Hello..? She filled the silence with a nervous, yet friendly jitter to her tone, stick-thin legs primed and ready to dash if the need arised.

I was definitely not watching you in complete silence like some freak.