Would dating this to the 29th be okay? And I made her bring her sword so that she could play, ^=^;;
500+
The woman had thought often of her weapons since her encounter with Catalyst. Yet, her days had been filled with many encounters, and only today she had been able to consider the blades. Often she had carried the Raven Spear, but very little had she carried the sword, aptly titled Badb. Earlier that morning she had taken the sword from its place in her den and had tested its weight in her hand. Even as she had held it, the weapon had sang to her, and for many moments she had simply listened to that song of war. Badb was quiet and hungry, but the blade was beautiful and clean, singing with that clear voiced hum. Upon finding the ancient Celtic blade, the woman had carefully placed the knot of the Raven’s head upon the blade near the hilt, and its pattern was held with dark lines, clearly and skillfully cut into the metal. It had been the same technique applied to all her weapons of consequence, to instill the power of her Dream and the soul of her Dream into each weapon she would carry into battle.
But now the woman, having practiced the familiar patterns with Badb, was once more familiarizing herself with the lands about her. Normally she would have left her weapons behind, but upon this day she carried the sword with her, its song singing softly as she held it. Scabbardless, the woman held it comfortably in her hand, feeling that martial song through the bones of her being. The white orbs were almost brighter as she moved with that effortless grace, pausing every now and then to investigate a place she had missed before. Her maw worked diligently, picking up the scents of both familiar and unfamiliar creatures—and yet she did not catch her father’s scent. She never did. It was a strange thing. And as if that thought had invoked his coming, the Raven crawed above her, high within the bright heavens before he plunged down, pulling up as he became level with her shoulder. And upon the rocky heights of the trenches, the Raven was easily able to accompany his Dreamer. A light smile greeted the bird, but with each coming, the woman’s inner warning grew stronger.
Never before had she seen the castle, though it would have been difficult to miss. The castle was one of the human edifices that was seen to be beautiful to her eyes. And this particular edifice reminded her of her own homeland, of Caledonia. For a moment, the woman merely stood at a distance, beholding the strange sight that seemed to come from her distant memories. Then her natural curiosity rose within and bid her to take a closer look.
The woad warrior chose her steps carefully and yet with that effortless grace that came naturally to her movements. The Raven followed silently, his wings beating occasionally with that quiet whisper. She had reached the steps leading to the castle when another emerged from within. The warrior paused, the woad bound ears pricking forward as her maw lifted, those white eyes almost fierce as she considered the male. He was not one that she had met before and so naturally she was wary, considering him as a possible enemy. And yet, as she waited, her sword still comfortably held at her side, he did not seem to poise a threat. But one could never know. And the orange hued male said something, but the specific words were lost for the pounding of the ocean. And for a moment she was silent, and it seemed as if it would remain so. Perhaps she should have said something, but her quiet timidity bid her to be silent.