Watching the Sunrise [OPEN]

"Hello?" Someone called, bringing Aethelwyne further in her panicked state. As quietly as she could, the spirit slipped onto a stronger limb, using her winds to cover the other being-she wasn't sure if it was a someone, like a animal, or a camper/spirit-with their hair. Or fur. Using her winds to push her to the next tree, she hid behind thick, leafy masses, eyes wide with realization as she spied the other girl. A dryad, wood-maid of the earth. Her sharp features like renewed wood, and eyes glinting with autumn's fiery leaves. Usually she would be less poetic, but if anything, she got more verbose. 

Cautiously, she parted the branches before her, blinking rapidly after the sunlight flooded into her eyes and lit up the foliage. Tightening her grip on the pouch she had slung around her wrist, she extracted one metal ball and rolled it around in her fingers cautiously, letting her winds recede. She peered out timidly, other hand on her neat bun, where two thin, rectangular were stuck in. Pulling one out, she let it fan out, prepared to strike in case.

Letting her arm part the leaves that covered her view even more in curiosity-the wood maid did not seem to be attacking-she jumped back, startled, at the sight of a dagger. A weapon, then? She tightened her grip on the metal sphere she held, and clutched her Celestial Bronze fan tightly. But...she didn't seem to be dangerous. There was a tame, gentle look in the other girl's eyes, and Aethelwyne was attracted to the passion and kindness it seemed to reflect. Giving into her impulses, she parted the leaves once again and sat on the branch above Wicker, still poised and ready to run away or attack.

Her hair cascaded over her back, and she felt the feeling of her winds pulse against her, the feeling new and old at once. The rush of confidence it brought her cursed through her veins, making her able to look shyly into the other's eyes, lips pursed and legs tensing.

(OOC: Oh, thanks~I suppose I just get into my character's personalities-really, they're just extensions of myself. )

"Hello, I didn't see you there... You scared me." The words were followed by a light chuckle, and to Aethelwyne it was rather rustic, with warm tones that seemed reminiscent of sunshine and the slight rustle of leaves. It matched her personality, really, the girl below, because of her fair skin (winter), her glinted verdure eyes (spring), and her voice (autumn). Edging closer, she let out a soft noise and cautiously flew down a couple of branches, letting her dress fan out gently. Surveying the other spirit, she saw her weapon be sheathed again and sighed gently. Safe at last, but then again...But her, she, spirit, dryad, whoever she was-had a tame glint in her eye, not crazed or maniac. Deciding to trust her instincts, she came closer, leaning forward.

"Hello,"She murmured, eyes wide and innocent, not unlike a fawn. The spirit cautiously put one of the metal spheres back and lowered her weapons, sliding a fan back into her hair. The other she held in one hand, covering her face."Hello."Brushing back her soft, dark brown locks, the girl blinked slowly, then saw the wood-maid. Her hands itched to write, to hide her behind a language of words that no person could penetrate unless they became a being of her imagination. The girl was just so poetic, that she let words spill from her lips in lines, reciting her thoughts.

" 'Thy wood-maid speaks, beseeching but kind, calling to thee, but then thy maiden runs, afraid and shaking, like a woman possessed. Is this fear or phobia, spirit or illusion? "She whispered, matching her quiet tones with modern styles of writing and older words. Glancing down to see if the girl had noticed, she dared not relax, and Aethelwyne stood, letting her wind be dismissed for this while. They could always come back later.

Tugging at her gown, which was soft and frilly, reminding her of gossamer her mother had sewn to make lace from spiders, the spirit turned to the dryad."Pray thee tell, who brings thy wood-maid among us? For I can sense thou blood is of those of the plants. Prithee, dryad, for her reason to come to the edges of this place in the light of Lord Apollo's chariot?"Keeping her back straight and averting her eyes shyly, the spirt finally looked up, looking at her timidly.

(OOC: I just put one facet of my personality in them and they just go like BAM. It's almost scary how fast they grow. )

Carefully stepping down, assisted by her winds, Aethelwyne observed the girl like a hawk, noting every movement she made. Her introduction fell on her, and she noted that Wicker was out of her element, but was rapidly approaching something akin to easiness around her. Struck by her sudden barrage of questions, the girl almost shot up and traveled, using her winds. Keeping her face passive as she could-which was not much at all, she began to reply.

"They...call me Mari. I came here to watch the chariot, for all of it's golden glory, ride the skies. It truly is a bittersweet sight, for it signals both the end of a intoxicating darkness and yet the beginning for life to rise, is it not?"Letting her pink lips purse and thickly-lashed eyes blink, she looked at Wicker. She was sure that she hadn't lied in any way, because they did call her Mari-it just wasn't her real name.

She stepped catiously closer, still graceful and soundless as ever. Her cloak, a way of not getting her cold, fluttered around her silky gown, and she walked closer."Wicker..."Aethelwyne drew out her name unsurely, but smiled softly anyways."I am a daughter of Odin, a Morrocan wind spirit, and a prayer spirit. Thoust lineage belongs to those in those forests, a family of four but two left? I have fetched words from your house many times past,"She rushed to clarify, now almost close enough to Wicker to tickle her if she tried.

(OOC: If anything seems OP or rather strange, the types of prayers are unreal but my actually ritual for sending them is not. I can always edit, though, if you want. Fun Fact: Ancient Greece actually had a holiday where they burned prayers wrapped in ribbons in hopes the smoke would reach Mount Olympus.)

"It must be hard work, being in charge of all the prayers sent in camp... It's quite impressive." Chuckling quietly, the spirit stayed where she was, swinging her pump-clad feet."No, not quite. As you see, I do not always run to give and send prayers-I also send my winds. None are quite great or mighty, but they serve their purpose and are loyal to me."

Approaching Wicker, she sensed a feeling of sorrow, a trait she had sharpened by hearing many different types of prayers. They could vary from wanting a dish to turn out well or hoping for a blessing to come for a broken family. In this case, it was more of the latter, which made her feel slightly guilty, bringing it up. Perhaps...? She had never really showcased it, but maybe it would cheer Wicker up. Whispering something and clasping her hands, she pulled out a thin, almost transparent scroll, glittering and with ever-changing colors, flitting from light blue to dainty green in a matter of a second. It was the size of a water bottle in length, but thinner than a pencil.

Taking the object in her hands that seemed to come from nowhere, she turned to Wicker, smiling gently and wrapping her cloak even closer. Stepping down carefully from the tree, she finally walked on level ground with Wicker, and pressed it to her hands."This,"Aethelwyne said firmly, still a little bit woozy from all of that magical energy being used,"Is a tangible prayer. I usually use transparent, audible ones, but thee has brought a issue to my eyes, as fair and starkly...obvious, as thy body clad in her fiery red hair. Thou has prayed at least once, yes?"

Hopefully she did, for the brown haired girl carried on, tugging at her bun until it finally came loose. Sliding her fans behind a hidden slot under her flower's previously decorative fabric flowers, she carefully extracted a ribbon from her hair, summoning it for the prayer. Usually she wouldn't use such troubles to send just one prayer, so her magical energy was rather low right now, but not dangerously. Taking a deep breath, she called her winds and summoned a transparent prayer this time. Bringing apparently nothing to her tips, she clapsed the slightly humming, murmuring burble of the invisible scroll to her ear, then smiled.

Just one more step. She pushed and encouraged her winds to carry that one scroll that she had held, which was only seen because she had wrapped a blue ribbon around it, whereas the other one had a silver ribbon. Seeing it shoot out of sight, Aethelwyne smiled, hoping that Wicker had done the same, and turned to her, stumbling slightly from all of that magical power being drained."Wicker, wood-maid, you have a prayer in that scroll. It is of heavenly skies,"She spoke quite seriously, and took a deep breath."It can either work or it can't on a very special recipient. Will you leave those divine words to the devices of the Fates, who have been captured, or in the hands of the gods, who are caught in a frenzy, puppeteers at best? If the former, then bring it to your lips and bring new life through breath, and if the latter, then my winds will carry it for you." Still exhausted, Aethelwyne stumbled, and then promptly fell over, on either Wicker or the ground, still conscious. She wasn't sure if Wicker had caught her word's meaning, but Wicker could either keep the prayer and hoped it worked, or given it to her winds and brought it to the gods as a plea.

However, she did hope it worked, as it was Aethelwyne's prayer for Wicker to find what she needed to restore her parents' health. It was risky at best, and wouldn't work-most likely, but then again, prayers were tricky things. One could only hope they worked. Rolling over to her side on-Wicker? The ground? She still wasn't sure which-and blinked. At this point, she didn't really care which she was laying on too.

(OOC: It's fine!)

Mari blinked slowly, eyes darkening as they tended to do when she was tired. Letting her eyelids drop over, she curled up even more until she caught a faint whispering noise of Wicker's, presumably her voice. As the other spirit began to sing, she felt a little color return into her cheeks and skin, feeling slightly better. Usually she would send prayers, which took as little effort as blinking or swinging your hands around, perhaps. But when she actually conjured prayers, it consumed a lot of her power. Making an effort to face the sky, she did so with a small humph sound and faced the blue sky, idly wondering what shade of blue she could call it exactly. Periwinkle, perhaps, with a hint of icy blue and the warmest golden frost she had ever seen. Like champagne bubbles, clear and golden.

She unconsciously drew closer, her cloak serving as a sort of blanket. When her mind registered that she was actually on Wicker, Aethelwyne mentally shrugged and closed her eyes, delving into the song. The tune was sweet and slightly wistful, and it created a sort of melody that you would think would go with the color lavender, and maybe with the slightest hint of cinnamon. Soft, but tasteful, with an edge that you could't quite place.

Weakly fumbling around, she felt her strength return. Usually, she would depend on tea or coffee, but obviously now was not the time. She lay there, breathing in and out-or more like inoutinoutinoutinout in her head-and let herself relax, dark hair somehow still neatly splayed on the green eyed dryad. Aethelwyne was drawn to the other girl's voice as well as her kindness, relishing in the richer, warmer tones of her voice.

When she gained enough energy to at least semi-sit up, she leaned on Wicker's shoulder and slowly started to join Wicker in her singing. Nature was a part of her, yes, but she was not connected to the plants in the same sense that the dryad was. Letting a string of sweet, long notes fall out, she joined in shyly, seeing as the singing was already rapidly healing her. Unfamiliar to some parts, she stumbled but recovered quickly during the lyrics.

(OOC: Oh, it's fine! Sorry for my late reply, I thought I had replied earlier but then it turned out my computer crashed or something. )

"It is as if you speak and sing with the breeze on your tongue," Wicker noted gently. "Isn't it curious how a single soul can carry with it a voice and mind as beautiful as the vessel it inhabits?" Bashful, Aethelwyne felt an overwhelming urge to repay back the dryad for her kindness. Blushing from the earlier compliment Wicker had bestowed upon her, she sat up hesitantly, brushing dark specks of dirt from her garments. Dusting off her old-fashioned petticoat, the brunette blinked slowly, then ran her fingers across the rough bark of a tree.

With deft, careful movements, she didn't hear Wicker's next statement, loosening the cloak around her shoulders. Will finally folding under her conflicting emotions, the girl let her hands curl tightly around the fabric of her dress. "Not Mari."She whispered, letting the tip of her tongue flick around her glossed lips."Aethelwyne. Aethelwyne Xineth."

Noting that the camp was beginning to stir, she fixed her hair and looked back at Wicker, wondering if she was going to leave or not. Where did she stay, anyways? Was she allowed to freely roam the camp? Shaking her head as to clear it, the spirit pulled up her hood and walked further past the field, looking back to see if the dryad would follow. Stepping lightly over a log, rotted and crawling with fungi, she let her winds lightly encircle her hands.

With a light hum accompanying her, the spirit hopped up and let herself travel slightly off the ground, then headed off towards a pocket in the trees, slipping behind a trunk and looking behind her to see if the dryad had come. Peeking out, she made a small hand gesture and hoped fiercely that she had made the right decision in telling Wicker her true identity.