3+ Table by Lou!
Talitha didn't think she would return to Ethereal Eclipse so soon as now. There was something about the place that was secluded, tucked away from the rest of the world to offer peace of mind, solitude. As much as her heart and essence burned and bled for Inferni, the last severals weeks had been rough with adjusting. Night terrors constantly plagued her, as well as bouts of insomnia, and also the fear of getting acquainted with the locals once more. For her disappearance, there were most that were convinced she wasn't loyal to the tribe. In some ways, their assumptions were correct. She indeed hadn't been loyal the several times that she left, but either they were reasons for getting exiled by her father, or there was too much physical or mental anguish to endure.
Deciding to dig out an old friend who was collecting dust over the past year, her acoustic guitar was carried by the neck as if she held a prized fowl by its throat as she sauntered into an area of the woodland that had a little space of a clearing beside the protective barrier of tress that stood tall. With her was also a faded shoulder bag, and within the contents of a silvery flask filled half-way with whiskey, and her prized possession of her personal journal with a pencil or two. The hybrid spent the majority of her time writing and sketching away to her heart's content upon her return, and quickly developing writer's block from such (even though Talitha was capable of writing elaborately for days on end), she needed a new muse of escape to do.
It was early morning, with the air feeling cooled down and calm (for the hybrid had been too hyped up by her own conditions to fall asleep), so she strolled to a tree that looked like it offered stable back support, and she sat against it with her legs crossed indian style. Her shoulder bag was placed beside her, the flask settled out against it. She took a simple sip or two of the whiskey within the flask, and then began to tinker about with the strings. The guitar was getting older and older like a person did in the development of their life, and these strings needed to be adjusted, however for the most part, they seemed to still carry out a strong tune. Her fingers crawled over the strings, belting out several random notes of an unnamed melody. Even after all this time, she remembered the basics of the notes, and all it took now was to flow into a beautifully placed symphony of melodies.
