~ (o.o) ~

Hidden within the dimmed candles and herbal scents of life and that of death, lies a room within the Houses of Healing. A daughter. A woman. A healer.

She sits up on her small bed, reading over her books and restocking her own personal herbal pouch. Bay colored hair is braided into a crown atop her head, where disobedient hairs tickle her brows and cheeks. Rough from burns and washed raw from the water of the sick and ailing, the normally well-kept hands and long fingers turn over an aging page of long-forgotten knowledge.

That color of dusk, right as the sun has disappeared and the sky is turning dark is the color of the wide and naive eyes. they have seen their fair share of battle wounds, dying children, and sick. The dark lashes that surround them hide them when she is shy and won't look up at whoever addresses her.

Her face is young, skin the color of flour and cinnamon mixed to create an apple crust. The nose is long and fits her face quite nicely. The dimples in her cheeks are only when she smiles and when she does, a number of well-kept teeth glitter back at you.

Small of the frame, yet not of the mind, she walks as a Lady of the Court would, holding her head high to make her five foot two frame seem tall among the women and healers. A voice that could address you so kindly, sweet as syrup and light, barely audible above the bustle and noise. Eredhwein quickly bows her head and disappears back into the Houses of Healing to tend to her duties.