Ióunn Ar-Olwa
Queen of the Aelvar
It was a beautiful Midvinter morn. The Sun had only just poked up over the horizon and bathed the forests of green with a pinkish hew. The shadows of the eve had not yet vanished but cling to the branches and under growth like the shroud of snow that lay thin on the ground and in the tree tops. A gentle fog seeped up from the earth, swirling lazy on a soft breeze, it made her a little home sick for the veil of mist were her home nestles within the safety of it. She would return there soon enough, besides there was much more pleasant things to distract her mind. A beautiful set of greens eyes so easily recalled to her memory, what came with them was beyond her will to ignore, not that she wanted too.
She let out a long frustrated sigh, her shoulders slumped somewhat as it became evident to her that her distraction would never go away, the thought turned her lips into a smile as she raised her bow once more, the arrow already nooked and she pulled back, the string tight and tense straining against her fingers before she released it. The hissing before the thud sent a flock of avian high to the air with the intrusion of the noise and a bit wary of intent. Yet the arrow did not seek them, but a target curved into a piece of dead wood that rested against the base of a tree.
The aim was off mark, not by much but enough to frustrate her, something was not right. She checked her stance, wondered if her arms had been in position but she could not pin point it. Iounn tried again, a little better this time and she would keep practicing until she was satisfied. Which that day would never come, as one that always wants for perfect in her technique, one is never satisfied.
Her elven ears turned slightly toward the direction of a soft noise, her eyes the only thing to shift .. someone approached.
[member="Ylva Solveig"]