The Fountain runs Red

The day was warm, it was going to be unusually stiffling.  If there was anything Abraxus hated more then anything it was feeling stifled.  Ah the birds are singing, the paperboy is calling out his news, its a horrible sound..  A happy market place, laughing children, the world doing its thing in rotation.  An ear splitting scream?  No...  I'm hearing things.  No there it is again.  That sound I can appreciate, cherrish, that sound is like a golden harp playing out its last serenade..  Perfect and beautiful.  Before Abraxus even knew it, she was running, picking her way deftly through the chorus of astounded market goers, travelling the mere few hundred feet to her destination The commotion was endless, vendors were slamming closed doors and boxes on the wares, the towns Militia was flooding the area, and amid it all that scream, piercing, oblittering its way into all calm sensibilities.  A woman clutched her head in her hands, her clothes dirty from the dust floating its way around the market place, and she was histerical, following her gaze and anguish Abraxus couldn't help but smile, there strung up against the fountain for the world to see a harsh glimmer in the light, as soon as the glare passed Abraxus was able to see, her heart stopping a moment pure appreciation at the devotion taken, was shredded chainmail, soaked in blood, the mutilated corpse of a Radiant Heart Guard, turning on her heel she exited the town center to return home, eagerly interested in what this might mean for her. 

Abraxus

There's no art of Abraxus.

Description

The woman is slender, almost skinny, wiry, her hair is neatly bound in little braids to the back of her head, with the occasional twig standing out clearly in the white abundance. Her eyes are the colour of liquid amber and glimmer with a fierce determination, set deep in high cheekbones and framed by snow white lashes. Her lips are not full, nor are they thin, Her mouth rarely smiling, when it does, it simply turns in the corners slightly and no more. She is clothed simply in brown leathers made from deer hide, covered in about a centuries worth of dust and debris, the womans feet are bare.

Roleplay Notes

September 2011

• The Fountain runs Red