A Meeting With Darwel (1)

The late morning sun burst through the window, providing a vibrant shade of orange over the furniture set neatly inside the expansive guestroom where a certain Sif was seated over her bed, reading a book.

She wore a loose dress, the designs over its beige, soft entirety looking to have been made with patient strokes of green colouring that depicted a forest, one that was dense from the base of the dress, thinning out as it reached her shoulders.

Her cherry coloured hair was tied into a side pony that rested over her shoulder, bits of the strands reaching down to tickle the corner of the page she was reading.

The silence in the room was music to Darwel's ears, even though it was engineered through magical means.

There was no way the noise and clamour coming from the masses waddling from the distance would fail to reach even the Governor's Manor where she was currently being hosted. Thus, one of her guards had used a spell to block out the noise.