The Hierophant's fingers curled around the edge of the window, her nutmeg brown eyes staring blankly out at the world from her window. The view from the highest point of Baile City — atop their Great Oak — was darkened by the presence of summer storm clouds. Off in the distance, she could hear rumbling — the threat of thunder — while the skies turned dim, an unsightly omen. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly at the view, but she did not turn away. The storm, no matter how inconvenient, would bring life to the thirsty plants around them, and she could be grateful for that, at least.
She clasped her hands in front of her, bare feet shifting across the wooden floor silently as she made her way to the other side of the window. The Hierophant had planned to make a few rounds about the city today, but with the threat of oncoming rain, or even a storm, such a plan seemed futile. Looking at her people from above, she saw that many were turning in for the evening, while some made their way amongst the trees, daring to get a closer look at the clouds from atop Baile's branches.
Selwyn couldn't help but smile a little at their daredevil antics. She thought she could understand them a little — the desire to test fate, to go against it even. That want, to be amongst the trees when Nature brought down her righteous lightning, tempting destiny, daring Mother Earth to strike them down. Such a rowdy spirit reminded her of older times, centuries past, when her closest accomplice, her Bond, had acted the same way.
For a moment, she wondered if her meeting with the High Druid of the North would be interrupted by this threat of a summer storm, but by the sound of the footsteps working its way down the hall, and entering her room, Selwyn realized she had thought wrong. She smiled to herself, nutmeg eyes still searching the skies; despite the storm, despite everything, she was content.
"Brynmor Snowcloak," the Hierophant greeted, without turning away from her window. "It's been a while."
