Mar. 29th, 2007

fighting_mad: (medium - mmmm)
Plourr is in a tree.

It's not quite as strange as it might originally sound; she and Rial make a point of taking at least a day to themselves per week, and she tends to hightail it outside. The courtyard is small and overgrown, forgotten long ago; wild and beautiful, flowers spreading across all. The tree is low and sturdy and Plourr is sprawled across a heavy branch, her back against the trunk and one leg dangling, her foot nearly touching the ground. The tree is just under the overhang that leads into the 'yard, and, eyes closed against a ferocious headache, she listens to the rain pound the leaves, the soil, the overgrown pathways.

She always did love Eiattu's rainy season. She likes it even more, now. She doesn't look out across the plains and wish that she were riding; not in this mess.

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Plourr Estillo

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