Syllea

Syllea closes the door to Eira’s house and quietly steps down the stairs. “Sigurd?” she calls softly.
The tall, strong spirit boy appears from behind Eira’s house. “I didn’t realize you saw me.” He replied coolly as he walked over to her.
“I saw your tail through the window.”
“Ah, well that would do it,” he replies with a smile.
“Aye,” she chuckles.

Madaurbeth,

Syllea sits by a pond; her feet are in the cool water, her pants rolled up to the middle of her calves. Her brown hair flows down her back, and her bright green eyes are full of the peace she feels. She knew she was dreaming, but it was peaceful. The peaceful dreams were new.

Madaurbeth,

Writing after cooking Egfor breakfast. He is still putting my fence around the kitchen coop.

Syllea woke late in the afternoon. She looked around, hoping Eira might still be there. Of course, she wasn’t. "That would be silly," she thought to herself. Syl then remembered the apple pie Eira had brought the night before that she had never eaten. It was gone from her bedside. She frowned, then muttered, “Why do these women always have to move my stuff?”

Syllea listened quietly as her sister, Em, told her about the reason behind her fear of dogs. After the horrific story finished, Syllea nodded in understanding before quickly saying she had to check on her horses. In truth, the pain in her side had taken a turn for worse when Lynn had helped her stand in the Pony. She hid her pain until she was out of the earshot of her sister. “Lynn, we need to find Rae; I can not wait until morning,” she said in a whisper.

The corpse of a Black Numenorean lieutenant laid at her feet. Blood puddled around her, on the cold steel floor of the infirmary. Walking in for a regular inspection, she had overheard one guard speaking in disgust over her half-Nurnhoth heritage. That simply could not stand. She did not let it stand. She grinned, fire in her eyes as she looked upon to the other soldiers in the room.

Syllea sat with her back leaning against her tree of Lost Ones. She held a book from her Papa in her hands; her legs in front of her, one over the other, and her hair gently waving in the slight breeze made the teenage girl look older and oddly attractive.
 

Syllea ran the brush through the elegant steed’s coat. It was one of Eogar’s; ever since his land had been attacked by orcs they had been taking care of the horses and other animals in different locations until everything was restored. She hadn’t been feeling great lately, due to her “becoming one with the moon” as her papa called it. Thanks to her grandmother, Gwawrr, it was more durable, but she still struggled with keeping her attitude in check. It seemed no medicine could help that.