Dragoncrest Cliffs London, after the rain
build me up from bones
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Ooc — Siro
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As the sun sank beneath the crest of the cliffs, long shadows unfurled their inky fingers to reach across the woodlands, commiting the last vestiges of the early autumn light to bold brushstrokes of gold and orange across the towering expanse of the massive redwoods. The pale Shouna lay comfortably upon her usual perch—a moss-conquered log who's top lay partially submerged in the silt of the lakebed where it had fallen many, many years ago. The rootball two dozen yards back, was massive, though quite weathered from the years. It hid the entrance to her small den. A modest thing, fit for maybe two bodies, but perfect for the simple life she led. 

Her eyes were transfixed on the shifting blues of the evening skies and how the warm spectrum of colors played against the green and red of the redwood canopy. A smile touched her lips, though her mind was clouded by worry (as if often was these days) over Heda, the children, Wildfire, and Drageda. Winter was fast approaching and though today had offered something of a resistance to the biting winds that threatened to roar in from the sea, Tirgatao knew it would not hold off for much longer. 

She intented to seek out Eske soon and probe the Walinda for any tasks she could shoulder but, for now, she was content with resting and pretending the world wasn't turned on its head.
"There are no guarantees in the future. That's why today, the time we have now, is important."
Trigedasleng is denoted in bold/italic if not already written out. Hover for translations.