indentThey would end up calling her the hermit woman of Storm, if they weren't already. It wasn't often that the raven lady left the lands, mostly under the cover of darkness or only for something of extreme importance. It wasn't that she didn't want to be seen, more that she simply didn't want to be bothered. Phasma had grown tired of life by now, tired of all of the things that popped up just when she thought she had something good going and, quite frankly, she was also tired of being so alone. Sure, she had a pack, but it was full of youngsters and newly formed families. Like it used to be, Phasma just didn't quite fit.
indentWith her the ebony woman carried along a blanket, a velvety type of material colored almost as blue as she ocean. She kept the blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders, pulled closed in the front by the two hands that held it in place. She'd decided to go out just for the sake of being out, perhaps because she wanted to have one last walk before the snows came back in a heavy rage and she felt it safer to stay in the lands. Her travels had taken her along the edges of the Yawrah, following it until she broke off and toward the caverns. Her legs were tiring and the cold was only helping to make her bones ache, which meant she needed to find a place to take a rest.
indentOf course, when she finally found the entrance to the caverns, she didn't expect to find anything other than darkness. She spotted him not to far inside, looking rather ragged. "You look empty." She commented, stopping a foot or so away from him. Her voice was quiet as she spoke, almost uncertain. He didn't hold himself the same way as she remembered from so long ago, then again, she could've just been interrupting a weak moment.
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