I am the one who chose my path
#1
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Rachias hadn't cried since then, the night that she and her father had spent dancing together and spending time. It had been the last time she had cried, the last time that she had seen him before he died. The cabin had been burnt to the ground when she had gone to visit, leaving only rubble and the bones of a man who had never wanted to be a father in the first place. She had come to accept the fact that he was gone though, something that hurt more than anything else in her life. Sure, Arkham had been thought to be dead for the longest time, but she had always had some small hope that he might be alive. Now though, she was certain that her father was gone. Perhaps she didn't cry for him because she knew that it was what he wanted, that maybe he was off somewhere and finally happy.


Rachias kept that thought in her head every day, that maybe he was finally happy, and because of that and Arkham, she was managing quite well. In the quiet of the morning she had left the small apartment that she shared with her brother, making her way across the lands and to one of the rockiest places that she had ever seen. It was there, beneath the soft light of the morning, within the falling snow, that she examined the sides of the rocky cliffs. She was looking for the perfect rock, something thin but sturdy, fairly flat and yet nicely shaped. She wanted to make a marker to the little cottage, something that her father could be remembered by, even if it was only by the very few who knew him.

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#2
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Thanks again for the set. I love it!

Today she felt like she was one hundred feet tall. She felt as though she could stand as tall as Jazper Rhiannon, her dark and amazingly tall packmate, although in reality the top of her head barely reached his solarplexes. She shook her head against the snowflakes that clung to her gray pelt. Today she had ventured the farthest she ever had before. Before she never would have had the nerve to go even a hundred feet from the shadows of the trees that surrounded, yet now she barely minded being so far from home. Wanderlust would never possess her, she was ill-suited for adventure and had no taste for it - but curiosity drove her just fine. And today she hungered for the knowledge of the lands beyond home.

Her footfalls were confident and she walked in full stride, lime green eyes wide as she scanned the new landscapes. It was quite rocky and the jagged edges of the landscape contrasted curiously with the soft white-gray of the sky. She found that this place reminded her very much the High Rocks in her packland.

Her eyes fell upon the form of an earth-toned woman. She hesitated for a moment, but swallowed down the awkwardness bubbling up her throat. She had no reason to be nervous. It wasn't that she was afraid of the woman she didn't know - it was that she was so afraid of making a fool of herself. But in the last few weeks, she had found that her self consciousness held her back more than it helped her. Feeling bold, she approached the lady, making no attempt to mask her presence. "Hello there," Geneva said, her voice soft, lilting in the wintry air. Although she felt bold, her voice was and would always be soft, having just the edge of whisper. She was quiet by nature and that would never change. "What are you doing?"

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