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<blockquote data-quote="Sparky" data-source="post: 1351566" data-attributes="member: 13681"><p>Rainca moves swiftly out of the way of the Serin Sisters. She kneels, wincing as she jars the knot where the slingstone struck, and removes her pack. She settles herself and her layered clothing and reverently lifts the small carved flute to her lips. Low, mournful notes ghost from her flute and she closes her eyes taking deep breaths of the bitter, herb-scented air. <em><span style="color: sienna">That smell. The stayed hand of death. So familiar. </span></em> She plays. Her tune is the wide wind-swept plain and the cry of hunting birds. It is longing. Loss. She almost imperceptibly shakes her head when the sisters turn to her and continues playing. She plays for some time as the days events flow in and out of her with her measured breaths.</p><p></p><p>When she is done, Rainca lowers her flute and sits quietly for a little while looking at the delicate flute in her rough hands. She takes a deep breath and, tucking the flute carefully away, stands. She walks over to Gath and smiles, surreptitiously inspecting his poultices and stitching, <span style="color: darkorange">"Warrior Gath. Welcome back. What did The Laugher say?"</span> The metered phrasing of her question speaks of ritual.</p><p></p><p>She checks also on Redarn... <span style="color: sienna"><em>Rainca will not soon forget how Redarn won his injuries...</em></span> as she checks him over she murmurs, <span style="color: darkorange">"Your Serin Sisters are very good. Give them our thanks. Rainca is not sure they know what to make of... us."</span> Her gaze is inscrutable, her tone earnest.</p><p></p><p>She listens silently to Redarn's words, <span style="color: darkorange">"Rainca has not forgotten Redarn's description of their fine matched horses."</span> She turns to the dark-clad warrior, <span style="color: darkorange">"Joseph Dar'maryon. You should speak with the prisoners. Rainca will observe. Or, perhaps, Council Man Therick will permit them to be brought to here."</span> She looks to the others, shrugging. <span style="color: darkorange">"If the Serin Sisters are like Kree healers, we had all better stay put."</span> She grins.</p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px">OOC: Congratulations! I read in another thread! A baby on the way! Hang in there with the yucky bits. And no worries about the excitement level, not from me anyway. I'm having a great time.</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sparky, post: 1351566, member: 13681"] Rainca moves swiftly out of the way of the Serin Sisters. She kneels, wincing as she jars the knot where the slingstone struck, and removes her pack. She settles herself and her layered clothing and reverently lifts the small carved flute to her lips. Low, mournful notes ghost from her flute and she closes her eyes taking deep breaths of the bitter, herb-scented air. [i][color=sienna]That smell. The stayed hand of death. So familiar. [/color][/i][color=sienna][/color] She plays. Her tune is the wide wind-swept plain and the cry of hunting birds. It is longing. Loss. She almost imperceptibly shakes her head when the sisters turn to her and continues playing. She plays for some time as the days events flow in and out of her with her measured breaths. When she is done, Rainca lowers her flute and sits quietly for a little while looking at the delicate flute in her rough hands. She takes a deep breath and, tucking the flute carefully away, stands. She walks over to Gath and smiles, surreptitiously inspecting his poultices and stitching, [color=darkorange]"Warrior Gath. Welcome back. What did The Laugher say?"[/color] The metered phrasing of her question speaks of ritual. She checks also on Redarn... [color=sienna][i]Rainca will not soon forget how Redarn won his injuries...[/i][/color] as she checks him over she murmurs, [color=darkorange]"Your Serin Sisters are very good. Give them our thanks. Rainca is not sure they know what to make of... us."[/color] Her gaze is inscrutable, her tone earnest. She listens silently to Redarn's words, [color=darkorange]"Rainca has not forgotten Redarn's description of their fine matched horses."[/color] She turns to the dark-clad warrior, [color=darkorange]"Joseph Dar'maryon. You should speak with the prisoners. Rainca will observe. Or, perhaps, Council Man Therick will permit them to be brought to here."[/color] She looks to the others, shrugging. [color=darkorange]"If the Serin Sisters are like Kree healers, we had all better stay put."[/color] She grins. [SIZE=1]OOC: Congratulations! I read in another thread! A baby on the way! Hang in there with the yucky bits. And no worries about the excitement level, not from me anyway. I'm having a great time.[/SIZE] [/QUOTE]
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