Post by Undine on Sept 26, 2017 16:24:49 GMT
The full moon hung low in the sky, as if drawing near to gaze upon the world and it's many peoples. Obasha sat playing a few notes on an old flute, the wood having turned a shade of ash due to age. The roaming gypsy woman sat against a mossy rock at the edge of the deep wood in some land unknown to her. She had next to nothing to her name, a flute, her curved dagger, some spark rocks and the clothes on her back. Obasha didn't need for much though, her wethered and frayed crimson silk robes kept her warm and the jangling bone jewelry was enough to scare off most small predators, though the exotic woman had long since learned to fend for herself should something larger come along.
She'd walked at least three dozen miles today, her barefeet were tough-skinned but even they were sore. Few other travelers had come across her path throughout the day, yet most of them had steered clear or spit at her, naming her Shadowskin. She couldn't remember where she'd first learned the native tongue, perhaps under her later master. Didn't matter, she knew Shadowskin was an insult, stemming from the color of her skin no doubt. Still, she held nothing against these people, whoever they were. So long as no one attempted to own her in this new strange land she would be fine.
The rabbit she'd caught that morning sat over the fire, warming the meat. Obasha had no salts to preserve it so she figured she could just eat her fill before it went to waste. She paused, sliding the flute back inside her breast at the sound of footsteps coming towards her from down the road. Her fire was clearly visible, so long as whoever it was proved hospitable she'd welcome them to share her fire, perhaps even some of the rabbit, after all she couldn't hope to eat it all.