Nemeril wandered the small island on which she and her family of four lived comfortable lives amongst others looking for a peaceful abode. Some of the island folk have been here their whole lives while others had moved here in recent years, looking for a place to call their own or escape some horrible past. They were all welcome here, provided no trouble arose. Her parents, two of the isle's officials, would help make sure of that.
The Windy Isle itself was a beautiful place with a small wooded area off to the side, crisp yet soft yellow sand covering the ground almost everywhere, with small tents and cottages made of wood placed here and there where the people lived. The population while small, was very closely knit so that pretty much everyone's business was known to everyone else. The town hall at the center of the isle was constructed of stone and wood, simple materials foraged from the surroundings lands and the isle itself, brought over bit by bit over the years to make the island livable in for many. A flowing fountain of white marble decorated the outside front area of the town hall where the authorities conducted their political business needed to keep everything running smoothly. The other two isles had their own officials, so each isle was to take care of itself.
The wind today was no different than usual, blowing the fairy elf's golden hair around in the gale. Nemeril had already practiced her archery for the day, some five hours at that, and she was ready for some down time. So that is what she was doing now, sitting on the shore of the serene island, just idly watching the fish and aquatic life swim on by. She thought she even glimpsed a mer-folk's tail at one point, which was not at all surprising. After all, this area was a common enough place to see mer-folk about, as they have done for many many years. The Tuor Ocean after all harbored much life beneath its blue-green waters.
Nemeril sighed, almost bored now. She wondered what would happen today, if anything. Usually the island folk were very gossipy, liking to tell rumors of anything they deemed worthwhile to tell. It did not make for much privacy, but Nemeril herself did not really know otherwise. The Windy Isle had always been her home, although was not as full with people as it is nowadays. Back then, when she was a mere 35 years of age, still a child by both fairy and elf standards, the isle only held at most 20-25 people. A far cry from what it is today, at 100. Of course, that may not seem like much of a difference elsewhere but here it most certainly did.
She squinted her eyes some, looking at something in the far off distance. She stood up, shielding her eyes from the sun with a pale slender hand, and said under her breath, "Alright, what is it I'm seeing?" Soon enough though, she could make out a shape, actually two shapes, still quite a ways away from where Nemeril was standing. Sometimes it paid to have excellent vision for in a matter of seconds, she was able to get a clear view of what she was seeing coming this direction.
((Tags Laraine here. Feel free to introduce Star Sierra and Midnight now.))