The First Morning

- By Fiha

((i wrote this at about 2am, it's full of mistakes, repetition etc ... but it was the first post on my guild forum in an RP thread as fiha woke up on her first morning back in the garrison after her transformation, savvy? tough ^~))

Light crosses the thresh hold of a stone arched window, gently bleeding warmth into it’s grey arbors. A figure lays in slumber, chin nodding against chest as it sits slumped forth at a cluttered desk. The cool light brushes first at the fingers of the sleeping figure, nudging them with the gentle suggestion of life. Slowly they twitch and pale grey eyes open to nights last spell retreating in the early morning half light. Unfolding her self like fabric, up sits the dozing figure, birds call and wind beckons softly to the first pure rays of light cresting over the ridge, the falls, the stony banked brooks, the trees and cobbled court yard with its busy morning traffic.

With in the yard a woman paces, her robes of rich crimson pooling at her feet. Those who bustle past, arms all laden with goods pause to bow, wish her well or ask for council in trivialities of the day. She is muttering to her self, or is she singing to us? The grey eyes watch her as she surrounds her selves with the lives of others, while a limp mess of well scripted letters hang half forgotten at her side. The figure moves from the window ledge to take in her own surroundings, now visible to her in day light.

She moves back to the warn wooden desk of her slumber, pausing to blow out a gnarled guttering candle set atop one of many piles of books. A bed inviting lays turned down with a sprig of Peacebloom on the hand stitched, Westfall feather pillows and a row of good furs rest at the foot … “Just as I would have like it” murmurs the figure, smiling at this most simple of homely gestures. At the base of the bed a thickly carved mahogany trunk sits ajar with fresh clothes for the day neatly pressed and waiting for inspection. The figure stoops to lift the fine near translucent cotton gown to her nose, drinking in its fresh crisp scent as though they were the accent notes of a sharp white wine. “Just as, I would have liked” she murmurs again.

Her eyes pass once more over the vast array of book shelves and cases, lined thick and dense as deep forest with tomes both new and ancient. Here a collection of blood red crystal shards, pulsing with energy under her hand and there a mad jumble of mortar, pestle, herb and leaded vile. Following the line of the room her eyes are drawn upward to reveal an elaborate star chart painted into the ancient beams of wood that make up the ceiling. Each star marked and labeled, it’s path tracked across the heavens in painstaking detail. More charts of a similar nature, etched in rich vibrant inks on thick fibrous parchments are draped over many surfaces. Points of significance are marked with pale blue and green Un’Goro crystals who’s hum breaks the silence of the room with it’s eerie bottom note.

There is a rap of knuckles on wood and a clearing of throat so timid it is almost missed, but the second “E--hem!” breaks the figure from her trance and causes her to speak.

“Yes, what is it?” she moved toward the doorway, noticing for the first time that there is indeed no door to speak of but a thick curtain of flowering vines … “I-if you please ma’am,” speaks the voice, a little stronger with knowledge of it’s purpose now “If’n you please, The Lady sends breakfast ma’am. She says sh-she’s sorry ma’am but she’ll meet with ye later, Oh! And I’s teh give yeh this le’er to!” there is a pause and a fumbling of wood and silver wear “But I dunno ‘ow teh get in.” she finishes, disappointed.

The figure laughs, and reaches forth to the vines, allowing two slender fingers to stroke at the edge of a quivering petal. Almost at once the ravenous creatures fall limp and satisfied from the door frame, allowing the young girl to pass with in. She looks up to the figure and bows her head awkwardly before setting the tray and letters down on the edge of the unspoiled bed. Grey eyes wash over the servant girl like water over rock, taking in her honest round face and pink flushed cheeks as she smoothes out her pinnie.

“What is you name child” asks the figure, sweeping back a fine curtain of white hair from her features to at last reveal her face, she smiles gently to the girl, head cocked in waiting “H-hanna, Miss. Hanna Fairbanks, Daughter of Frank and Hettie Fairbanks of Westfall” she bite her lip “Me Dah’ works the fields and me Mam works at the school … we also h-have a cat … Tarblack, she has two kittens ... Ma says one is to be me own and I calls her Lillywhi—” Hanna stops, blushing at the amused expression playing about the ladies face and falls silent.

“Well, Hanna Fairbanks. I am Fiha Quel’Dhanar, so I am told. I do not know anything of my mother or father and if I had a cat my dear I would not know it to see it” her smile widens “I could not have asked for a better greeting than from The Lady her self.”

“Beggin yer pardon Miss, but I knows who you are … we all do Miss. Misses Davey what does the linen was in such a tizz over your seams, she pressed em her self you see, just as you like em,” Hanna finishes in a hurry, tumbling her self into a haphazard curtsy, she smiles to Fiha uncertainly backing out of the room, “I know it’s awful rude o’me Miss but … but if I don’t get back to the kitchens they’ll have my head for supper, M-might I be excused?” she bites her lip again, brow creased with worry. Fiha nods simply and bows to the girl

“Of course Hannah, you are dismissed” Fiha smiles and wafts her hand at her, with that the girl sets off down the hall at a quickened pace, twittering with delight as Fiha turns to the steaming pot of tea awaiting her approval at the end of her bed.

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