how dear their dwelling place
The girls chat about home. [gen, 1.5K]
I’d really like to see VM swing by the Gladepools at some point. Maybe stop by Byroden? Title from “She Walks In Beauty” by Lord Byron.
There is something to be said for dusty southern summers.
Not the heat of the day––though that is part and parcel of these months as much as the rest of it, inescapable as the driving sleet and snow of Whitestone. But out of the glare of the sun there’s a magic to it all, easy to find when you know where to look (and Vex’ahlia has known where to look since she was such a little thing). Evening offers a pocket of golden time, dry heat of the land fading as the cooling sky swallows the day’s warmth, and with nightfall come the crickets and the breeze, smelling of hay and horse and the soft scent of the woods, always just out of sight, solid-steady walls of foliage that were old when she was a girl and will outlive them all a thousand-fold, even Keyleth.
“Wow,” says Keyleth, caught in one of these pockets of time, golden light of the evening setting her hair ablaze. “You used to live here?”