For @cityelfweek Day 1 - Vhenadahl
- A pillar of many alienage communities. Firewood in others.
Crimson eyes stared up at the Vhenadahl. Old and sickly, this silly tree was one of the few constants in her life in the Denerim Alienage. Always there, its crooked bones creaking and quaying when warm and musty breezes drifted through the alleys, the stench of shem and elf alike crinkling the nose and stinging the eyes.
‘You’re going to be here longer than I am, huh you ol witch.’, patting the gnarled trunk, the young elf rose from the crouch she was in, her wedding dress already dirty like everything else new in this place. “Protect them, if you can for me. I’m leaving and not looking back.” She pulled the ribbon from the end of her plait and tied it around on the gnarled branches. Nodding decisively, she set her face into a mask of grim determination, long white hair escaping her cousin's carefully braided plaits.
“Izzou!” A cheerful voice carried out from behind her, rapid feet kicking up dust as a carefully raised hem avoided the bulk of the street's muck.
Sighing, Isobeaux Tabris let out a soft huff and turned to glare playful daggers at her cousin.
“You’re going to make us late! What are you even doing here?” She looked her cousin up and down, tsk’ing at the dirt on her hem and her stray hairs.
“Just saying goodbye to our old friend.” Glancing over her shoulder, she stuck her tongue out at the ancient tree.