SilverSuzi
Daydreamer
Elin sat at the base of a small hill, her back against a tree and campfire in front of her. While a mixture of various foraged veggies simmered in a small pot by the flames, she worked to stitch up a tear in the sleeve of her under-tunic. A breeze stirred the forest canopy, shaking loose some of the first few yellowing leaves of the season. The accompanying nip in the air raised goosebumps all over Elin's bare arms, and she frowned and bid her fingers to hurry. "Stupid sorcerer and his cursed rats." She grumbled while surveying the patchwork on her sleeve. The tear had come from an oversized rodent that had tried to bite her forearm. The shirt took the brunt of the damage, but her arm bore a few small cuts as well. They were minor, though she'd be watching out for infection until they healed.
To her right, almost concealed within the foliage at the side of the hill, there was a small opening. She had discovered the grotto a few months back, figuring it once belonged to a goblin family that had recently been chased out of the area for stealing from farms. It made for a decent shelter through the summer months, well hidden and large enough for her to sleep and store her few possessions. But it was lonesome. The closest town, Ebongrove, was a few hours' walk away. Some days she'd make the hike there early in the morning, and look for odd jobs. Unfortunately, most folk wouldn't hire her. First of all, with her pale-blonde hair and Rominish accent, she was easily spotted as a refugee. Tensions were growing between Romina and Erion, so foreigners were not highly thought of. And if that fact alone didn't deter potential employers, her missing eye and tomboyish attitude tended to put them off.
Elin didn't mind so much. She was who she was, and knew enough to get by, for the most part. Besides, she had no interest in being a scullery maid or laundress or seamstress (all socially-acceptable jobs for orphaned young women such as herself). Seamstress less of all she decided, as she accidentally pricked her finger with the sewing needle for the hundredth time that evening. Cursing beneath her breath, she resisted the urge to toss the shirt aside, redoubling her efforts instead. If she delayed at all, she'd soon lose daylight, and then stitching would only get harder.
@Daerune
To her right, almost concealed within the foliage at the side of the hill, there was a small opening. She had discovered the grotto a few months back, figuring it once belonged to a goblin family that had recently been chased out of the area for stealing from farms. It made for a decent shelter through the summer months, well hidden and large enough for her to sleep and store her few possessions. But it was lonesome. The closest town, Ebongrove, was a few hours' walk away. Some days she'd make the hike there early in the morning, and look for odd jobs. Unfortunately, most folk wouldn't hire her. First of all, with her pale-blonde hair and Rominish accent, she was easily spotted as a refugee. Tensions were growing between Romina and Erion, so foreigners were not highly thought of. And if that fact alone didn't deter potential employers, her missing eye and tomboyish attitude tended to put them off.
Elin didn't mind so much. She was who she was, and knew enough to get by, for the most part. Besides, she had no interest in being a scullery maid or laundress or seamstress (all socially-acceptable jobs for orphaned young women such as herself). Seamstress less of all she decided, as she accidentally pricked her finger with the sewing needle for the hundredth time that evening. Cursing beneath her breath, she resisted the urge to toss the shirt aside, redoubling her efforts instead. If she delayed at all, she'd soon lose daylight, and then stitching would only get harder.
@Daerune
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