One year. It had been one year since Iris Gwenneth became the first heroine of Eldia --one year since her life took a dramatic turn for the better. And in this one year, she'd found meaning in the days that had once had none. Iris had a new job, one...
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A/N -- First off, I did the second in a series of doodles! Check out the Azabela Stryder I have in my head! Really hope you enjoy! Second off, For all website users, if the site glitches (which it does a lot, seemingly, lately)... and does that whole repeating words thing where you can't read the whole chapter, send me a PM! I am more than happy to email you a copy of the chapter so you can read the whole thing!
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The sun came up. Hench watched the sky go from black to pink as dawn approached outside the inn window. And wasn't that the motto of life? The sun always came up, no matter how dark the night. As Hench stared at Azabela, sleeping so softly on her arm, she knew it to be true. As she stared at the way the huntress's face reflected only peace, with her eyes shut --yet barely fluttering-- and her mouth parted ever so lightly, the woman knew she'd found dawn.
Azabela was most beautiful like this. Hench had always thought so. The archer's long, dark hair fell free from the braid and whirled about her petite, waiflike frame in wild waves. Some locks tickled Hench's skin, but the guardian hardly minded. With a quiet smile, Hench placed a kiss on the girl's head and admired the sight for one last moment before gently pulling her arm out from under Azabela's head.
The huntress stirred for a minute but fell back to her soft snoring in a moment. Satisfied that the girl was still dreaming, Rhalla turned away to put on some clothes. She did a few subtle stretches to relieve the tightness of her musculature. Now looking at the room, she found her robes neatly and precisely folded on a chair while Azabela's were scattered in random piles everywhere. And if that didn't say anything about their relationship dynamic, the guardian didn't know what did. Hench chuckled in spite of herself as she pulled all her garments back over her bare skin, tying the tassels of her guardian robe together not even a minute later.
"Show over already?" came a partially disoriented mumble from the bed. Hench turned to find Azabela with her eyes half open and a lazy smile on her face.
"Good morning," was all Hench replied, shaking her head at the huntress's shenanigans.
"You know," Azabela began as she sat up, not caring that the cover fell away from her torso. "I swear you have a new muscle every time I see you, Rhalla. If you don't watch it, you're muscles are going to grow biceps."
Hench snorted. "Not how it works." Then she smirked. "Not at all how it works."
Now, the archer stood from her bed and walked over to her companion. Casually, the girl stood on her tiptoes so she could quickly peck Rhalla's cheek. Azabela then turned away from her beloved and looked around at the mess of clothing that she'd thrown everywhere in her haste the night before. Picking up her shirt, she noticed a smudge of dirt on the front --likely from where she'd walked around with her boots on.
"Damn it," she cursed. "Got shit on my clothes."
She wasn't talking to Hench, but Hench replied anyway. "Maybe if you'd fold them instead of throwing them around like a savage--."
