Reclaiming a Lost Dream

Appearance and Features

• Hair: Silvery-blue, medium length with bangs. She often braids her hair, and attempts to take care of it as well as she can on her travels. Her roots seem to have more blue, with most of the silver highlighted throughout and near the ends.

• Eyes: Blue/gray, though they glow brightly blue when she augments her spells with her own aether.

• Height: 6’3”

• Complexion: Smooth blushed alabaster skin, with a beauty mark and light freckles on her face.

• Face: A youthful face, belied by one that seems to carry much wisdom and hardship from her past. Almond shaped eyes that can give one a piercing hunter's gaze when necessary, with heavy eyelids that make her eyes appear darker than they truly are. Her small vieran nose has a longer bridge than normal, though mostly unremarkable. Her lips are bow-shaped, which she makes sure to take care of with balm that she makes herself. Despite her travels, she often applies simple makeup and attempts to keep herself presentable, a sign of sophistication despite her free-spirited mannerisms.

• Physique: Lithe and lean; a silhouette of gentle curves, long powerful legs, and natural muscle tone. Delicate hands and fingers that have shown signs of hardship in the past, but recently have been better treated. Preferring to travel by foot, and using her downtime to practice her swordsmanship, she is in great shape, and an excellent runner.

• Identifying Marks: Her body is littered with scars, with most being on her back, side, and arms. She typically dresses conservatively to hide them, though the most noticeable one is on her right forearm that is sometimes noticeable past the cuff of her sleeve. She has a small straight vertical scar on her jaw to the right of her chin as well that is only visible in certain lighting, that she covers with makeup often while in cities. Her face was mostly spared by the hardships she endured. The most gruesome scars on her back frequently cause her discomfort, even to this day.

• Language and Voice: Soft and velvety, her normal speaking voice is barely above a whisper, but can sometimes carry a deep, commanding weight when the situation calls for it. She is fluent in vieran forest speak and Dalmascan, but is working on her Eorzean. She speaks with a thick vieran (Scandinavian) accent, with some inflections and mannerisms of upper-class Dalmascan.

• Personal effects: At her back, she carries her well-used travel pack, which shows the signs of a long history of rugged use and recent repair. Within it, she carries most of her life possessions, such as her herbalism tools, rations, extra clothing, and more. Curiously, sheathed upon a belt that seems slightly too large for her, she keeps one of her most prized possessions: a Dalmascan knight's sword. The sword is polished, sharpened, and maintained pristine, and it seems that she takes extra care of it above many of her other belongings. She can sometimes be found welding a staff as well, though she does not always bring it on her travels. The rings she wears upon her fingers belonged to her sister, who was a war dancer in the Dalmascan resistance.

Personal life

• Residence: She was born in an outskirts village of the Skatay Range, and fled 30 years ago. Now a Dalmascan refugee in Eorzea, she has no place to call her own yet, but she currently stays with a friend and benefactor in Gridania, who offered her space within her residence.

• Relationships and Children: If asked, Elysea would say that she is single and not particularly looking, and that she has no gender preference, or rather, is bisexual. While she attempts to put on a happy demeanor for those she meets, it becomes evident quite quickly that she is lonely, but refuses to admit such. Elysea fawns over children, and her guard drops immediately around them. She longs to have some of her own and settle down some day, but would say that she doubts she ever will, due to her life situation and personal quest to find herself again.

• Occupation: While not officially employed, she acts as a wandering freelance healer and protector, and sells the herbs and valuables she finds along the way. She also volunteers her services to refugee settlement initiatives, as she is fluent in vieran forest speak and Dalmascan, and seeks to help others that have experienced displacement from the Garlean invasions, as she had.

• Relatives:

Yvitte: She speaks fondly of her great-grandmother Yvitte, who was a wise-woman, spiritualist, and leader of her home city. She passed away from natural causes when Elysea was a child.

Yrgotte: When asked of her mother, Yrgotte Elysea shuts down, as if reverting to the state of an abused child. Her relationship with her mother is extremely strained, and she wishes not to speak of her any more than that. She cares not whether her mother is still alive in the Skatay Range, or if she has passed in the time since she left.

Father: She never knew her father. When asked if she ever wonders about him, she says that she does, though it's not something that deeply interests her at this stage in her life.

Oryne: If asked of her siblings, Elysea's face flashes a brief moment of sorrow. Oryne, her younger brother, was taken by the Wood Warders when he came of age, and Elysea has never heard from or seen him since. Not a whisper of a rumor. She would say that she wishes to know if he is still alive, and if he has left the Warders, to reconnect someday.

Grmyr: Elysea responds with a tinge of sadness in her voice, but at the same time, smile as she stares back at you. Her younger sister was her best friend, and she believed that she was still with her always, one with nature now, as she would have wanted.

Danian Fal’thahn: Elysea says that her late fiancé, a Dalmascan knight and minor lord, was a noble and honorable man. He inspires her to stay in the light, and to keep her head up, even when she is at her lowest. She also feels that he is always with her, one with nature, like her sister.

Personality

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hardworking / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Elysea is initially warm and kind to most people that she meets on her travels, and is always willing to help those in need. She upholds a certain code of honor, tends to be a little naive of those that wish to do her harm due to this, and often trusts people blindly. She enjoys meeting people, but often has trouble opening up to others herself. Many will find that they end up spilling their lives to her, but afterward, knowing very little about the mysterious viera that just dropped in and out of their lives.

Spending time with her, one will notice nuances. When amongst others, she puts on an air of sophistication that can sometimes seem forced, but as soon as they are away from the city and in the wilderness, she becomes more free-spirited and energetic. A strange dichotomy, she feels more at home in the wilds, but still appreciates the modern comforts afforded by society. Despite her attempts at high-class mannerisms, she cares little for material gain, and anything of worth that she carries has deep sentimental value to her.

Additional Info and Hooks

• She is a powerful conjurer and white magic user, though she does not like showmanship, and will usually only perform it publicly if extremely necessary. This power seems to come to her innately, while a blue flash of light from her eyes can be present when exerting herself. She seems to unnaturally draw much power from her own aether, which was rendered unstable by Garlean experiments. This means that she is capable of great feats of magic, but at the risk of seriously hurting or even killing herself if she is not careful.

• Quietly searching for any knowledge of white magic in Eorzea, with a keen interest in Amdapor. Any mention of white magic, Elementals, or Amdapor will spark her interest. She possesses an Amdaporian-era cultist tome, and seeks to have someone with knowledge of that culture translate it for her. She stole the tome from her mother before she fled her home, but how her family came into possession of such a tome to begin with is a mystery. Her mother used a partially translated fertility spell to have Elysea, and she believes that some meaning in her life could be found in solving the mystery of this ancient spell book.

• Spent time as a Garlean war prisoner and guinea pig for an enterprising Garlean scientist. Getting her to speak of this time is difficult, and it is an extremely touchy subject with her. Having been a member of the Dalmascan resistance, losing her sister and fiancé to the Garleans, and due to her mistreatment at the hands of her captors, she harbors a deep disdain for Garleans and Garlemald. Since the events of Endwalker, she may be more sympathetic to individual Garleans, but despises them as a whole.

• If ever put to the task of defending herself, she is very skilled with her sword, relying more so on speed and technique than strength, though she does not seem to lack in that attribute either. Her displays of dedicated tutoring from a skilled knightly swordsman is belied by blows that can come across as brutal and almost savage in nature, as if a rage fills her that is honed and harnessed by the training of an honor bound expert. She combines her talents of war dancing, to make a sword dance that is elegant and beautiful; a white swan gently taking off in flight. Her strikes are vicious and deadly; a tigress going in for the kill. When pushed to the limit, or wishing to avoid a fight altogether, she will use her white magic to blind or dazzle and opponent before fleeing.

• A hearty solo wanderer, but she will happily travel with company if the opportunity arises, often traveling with others in directions she had no intention to go, just to help. She takes nothing as a reward for any of the services she renders, often asking to stay anonymous, flabbergasting many recipients of her talents with her generosity.

• Though she has no permanent place to call home, she has space in a fellow refugee's house in Gridania. Who this friend is, she keeps as a secret.

• Is often accompanied by an owlet that she has named Amathus. The owlet seems to have taken to her, and will often perch on her shoulder, or on the trees or scenery around her. She met the owlet upon a recent outing in the Shroud, and now feeds and takes care of him when she can.

OOC

Omg hi you made it to the bottom! Thank you! ^^

My DMs are always open, if you'd like to chat here or on Discord, let me know! Currently, I am only participating in Discord RP due to IRL obligations, and cannot play as much as I'd like. I have a family, and work, and those two things always take priority!

Also, feel free to ask me things about her here on Tumblr. Writing prompts help me flesh out Elysea further!

Tags:

#oc: elysea aster - for all of my character's content

#Elypiphoros RP - for current or past RP related content

An immediate reply came. In her dream-like state, she witnessed aetherial wind whip around her, engulf her own in a tight tornado of life energy. It was suffocating, as she felt herself squeezed by the entity’s power, compressing her own energy tighter and tighter. Leaving herself at the spirit’s mercy, she waited patiently and calmly. The pain was excruciating at first, but no worse than it felt on her bad days, she thought. Errant pieces of her drifting aether put back into place, one at a time, and held steady by the invisible hand of the spirit aiding her. Eventually, the pressure eased, leaving her feeling steady. No more pain. The bespirited wind now passed through her gently, like blue flecks of light pushing through a filter, leaving parts of itself behind within her. The sensation caused her to gasp for air, as she felt she could not breathe during the act, but the act was over as quickly. She felt her own aura now, steady, energized. She felt…herself again, if only for a while.

The viera projected thoughts of thanks to the spirit, but it did not leave. Instead, it began to pass by her in a steady gust, over her body, by her ears. Through the aetherial wind, she could hear a faint sound of a woman’s voice. A girl. She was…screaming, pleading. Another voice, that of a man’s, laughing. And…more men. Poachers. Hunters. The pain of a dying mother. The lament of its young one. She could not tell what the poachers were saying, but their intent was far from pure. The wind made this abundantly clear. She knew what her task was to be.

The veena pulled her state of mind out of its trance, and snapped her eyes open to the physical world again. Her physical sensations, her aches and pains, all returned to her. But her spirit felt renewed, energized. The Elementals had heeded her call. But she had been given an urgent task, one that must be done, as was their will. She stood swiftly, with the owlet fluttering off into the forest behind her in panicked flight. Throwing her cloak over her shoulders and clasping it, Elysea then tossed the hood over her head, folding her ears back underneath it. Her sword belt strapped on around her hip, her staff in hand. She kicked dirt over her dying fire, and left the rest of her effects on the ground as she darted into the thick forest of the Shroud, running against the wind that had brought the task to her.

Dashing toward her marks with the agility of a deer, leaping over logs and ducking under branches, dodging trees and rocks left and right, her nimble feet carried her over the underbrush with ease. She felt the wind turn directions, now pushing her forward and carrying her. Up a hill she leapt, her legs and the wind pushing her halfway up before she latched onto a sapling and pulled herself the rest of the way up, the wind causing loose dead leaves to fly about around her. At the crest of the hill, she knelt down, obscuring herself in the dying light of the evening sun amongst the dense foliage as the wind finally died down. This would provide her a good vantage point to observe what was happening in the valley below. What she saw lit an angry fire within her.

Three men, poachers. A wounded doe, laid between them, bleeding and hanging on for life. Not just any doe, but an albino doe, known to be an omen of good fortune when they appear. Not much further away, two of the poachers were cornering its fawn in a crevice, which was crying out for its mother. What was the third man doing? Where was the girl, whose voice she had heard screaming in her commune with the wind Elemental? She squinted, her eyesight betraying her. Elysea then saw movement, partially obscured by a tree, the arm and half of a face of a man. He was holding something…or someone? She heard the girl’s voice scream out again, before being muffled by a hand.

The viera’s ears did not betray her, however. “Fergit’ the little in’, ya welps! It’ll be more worth more when it’s bigger anyway. Give me a hand over here!” said the voice behind the tree, his voice echoing in the valley. He was obviously struggling with the girl, who was putting up the fiercest fight she could. She then heard him scream out in pain, and the man pushed the girl roughly onto the ground. The young Moon-Keeper girl cried out from the impact. Enough, Elysea thought to herself. She rose from her vantage point, and leapt down the side of the valley, gracefully sliding down the bottom of the hill before coming to a stop. The poachers, yalms away from her, heard her, and turned their attention from their victims to her. Good, she thought. Elysea squared up with them, clutching her rough-worked elm staff with both hands tightly and pulling it to her breast. Only her lips could be seen, the rest of her face obscured by her heavy hood and the weakening sunlight finding its way into the valley.

“By the will of the forest, I command you all to leave, now, and never return!” Elysea’s voice was loud and powerful, with a weight and volume that seemed almost supernatural. The hyur leader shook his hand where the miqo’te had bitten him, and then readied his dagger. The other two men, a large hyur and an elezen boy, readied their weapons as well, with the elezen glancing unassuredly at their leader. The miqo’te girl began to scramble away on her hands and knees, trying to find her lost staff in the dense and crunchy leaf carpet of the valley ground.

“Who the fuck er’ you?” the large hyur called out to Elysea, his voice unsteady with hesitation. She did not respond. 

“Another tree ‘ugger comin’ to cry about some pelts, m’ sure. Get her, boys!” the leader shouted, as he turned his obsession back to the miqo’te. The large hyur charged at Elysea, an ax in hand and ready to strike. The elezen shakily nocked an arrow on his bow and took aim. The fawn, now free, trotted away to watch from a safe distance. Elysea spread her arms, letting out a small chant as the surrounding leaves began to float into the air and wisp around her in a violent tornado. Just as the archer let his arrow loose, and the axeman came within striking distance, Elysea extended her hand in the direction of the pair. The violent wind picked up from the ground, throwing the archer’s arrow off course, and pausing the axeman in his tracks, pushing him back and causing him to cover his face. The wind was so powerful that it reached the archer, with debris from the valley hitting him and cutting his face. The pair shouted out. The axeman lost his footing and fell over backwards, and scrambled to get back up. In the meantime, the miqo’te girl had found her staff, as Elysea’s wind had kicked up the leaves in the whole valley, revealing it to her. She grabbed it, but before she could stand, the poacher grabbed her from behind and lifted her to her feet.

The gale passed the pair of poachers and crashed into the fall wall of the valley, violently shaking the trees of the valley wall, dispersing somewhat. The axeman stood back up, and the archer recovered an arrow from the ground, as his quiver had been spilled from the storm. “I’ll cut your fucking head off!” the axeman yelled as she readied his axe again. The archer nocked his arrow, his eyes full of fear and uncertainty as he looked at his raging companion. Their faces were battered and bleeding, with various cuts and bruises caused by her spell’s debris.

“I - I don’t know about this, boss! She seems quite powerful! M - maybe we should just leave!?” the young elezen shouted to his companion, with a voice that seemed too posh for the group he traveled with.

“Fuck that!” the axeman screamed, filled with rage, flexing his muscles in a show of machismo. Veins popped in his neck and head as he looked at the mysterious viera with an expression of pure rage. “Kill her!”

The viera’s face was calm, concentrated, her hand still outstretched. Just as they prepared to attack again, Elysea balled her hand into a fist and jerked her arm inward, to her side. As she did so, the gust of wind came back, this time from behind the pair, pushing them toward her. It came so violently that the elezen was knocked to the ground this time, and the large hyur was pushed toward her. He had been so blinded by rage that he was unaware of the incoming backlash, and stumbled forward clumsily. An opening. At that moment, Elysea broke her concentration on her spell, and moved toward the axeman, hooking the crook of her staff around his knee and yanking it hard into the air, sending him tumbling to the ground face-first. He rolled over to face her, teeth clenched in rage, but as he did, she swung the end of her elm staff as hard as she could against his jaw, cracking it and sending several of his teeth flying into the valley. The archer saw this, stood up, and ran toward the direction of the fawn and hid behind a tree, whimpering as he did so. Elysea then turned her attention to the leader, who was now holding the miqo’te girl from behind, his dagger to her neck. She was trembling, staff in hand, staring at Elysea.

“That’s enough, conjurer!” the leader shouted. “One wrong move, and yer sister’s blood will be on yer hands.” Elysea paused at the sight, but said nothing. The miqo’te girl quickly lifted her staff against the inside of his arm, and the two began to struggle as he attempted to keep the dagger at her throat. Immediately, Elysea started chanting again. Though only her lips were visible under the hood, a blue glow began to emanate from within. She held out her hand to the valley wall behind the struggling pair, to a precarious looking boulder. She clenched her fist, and a few large stones broke away from the boulder, coming together in a mass. Pulling her arm back, she sent the collection of heavy stones directly in the back of the leader. One struck the back of his head, knocking him out cold, causing him to crumple on top of the miqo’te girl. The panicked Moon Keeper scrambled to get away from him, and stood, staring at him for a moment in disbelief. She then looked to Elysea, who was now approaching her calmly.

“B…behind you!” the miqo’te shouted. Elysea paused. She had heard him before the girl had even noticed. The axeman, back on his feet and blood pouring from his broken mouth, swung his axe sideways at the viera. She nimbly ducked the blow and turned, jabbing him in the stomach with the end of her staff, but he managed to grab it. She let it go, and swiftly drew her sword from its scabbard, gripping the handle with both hands and squaring up with him. The axeman tossed her staff to the side and swung his weapon down at her, shouting in a rage. She danced around his vertical blow, slicing his right arm deeply with her own elegant maneuver. Somehow, this only seemed to further enrage him beyond normal human limits, and he unleashed furious strike after furious strike at her. His flurry of wild swings were met with graceful dodges and pokes and slices into his various openings. He swung his axe down at her one more time, and Elysea raised her sword to meet it, their weapons clashing with a loud clang that echoed between the valley walls. The wild poacher pushed her into a boulder at the bottom of the valley. Elysea was strong, but the man was stronger, as his axe blade slowly but surely inched toward her face. The man laughed maniacally as he bled from nearly every appendage at this point.

“I'm going to cut both of your heads off, you bitches!” he screamed through pants, blood misting from his mouth as he did so. The Moon Keeper, still trembling, clinched her staff, and began a chant. She lifted a few stones from the valley floor, and hurled them at his back, trying the same trick that the viera had done a moment ago. One of the pebbles hit him in the back of the head, but the huge man hardly noticed in his blind rage. The girl exhaled in disbelief. As the two interlocked fighters still strained against one another, she began to cast another spell. This time, a small spark of electricity formed at the end of her staff, and she pointed it at the man. The spark crackled through the air and landed upon his rear with a snap, lighting his pants on fire. The man yelped from this, pulling away from Elysea. The miqo’te whispered a small “Yes!” to herself and pumped her fist meekly.

The viera brought her powerful legs up and pushed the axeman as hard as she could, using the boulder at her back as leverage, sending him flying through the air and to the ground several yalms away. She dashed over and collected her staff as he regained his footing, and began to charge her again. Elysea quickly brought an open hand to her breast, the blue light from her hood glowing brightly again. She mumbled a quick spell, then held the palm of her hand out toward his face. In the palm of her hand was a small single point of light that grew into a white orb of holy energy.  As she did so, a bright white light beamed from her hand. The force of the spell blew leaves and debris away from her, causing her dress and hair to fly about. The beam burned the man’s face and blinded him, filling his vision with nothing but whiteness and spots. He screamed as he dropped his axe and held his face in pain, stumbling forward a few more steps before falling to his knees. The flesh on his face was singed and red, as if he had just laid in the bright sun all day long, but in all of a split second. The miqo’te girl looked at the sight in shock. What spell had the viera just used, she wondered, her mind racing for an explanation. It wasn’t one that even the most experienced conjuration teachers in Gridania had demonstrated before.

Elysea stood tall over the man. His face and retinas burned by her holy light, covered in bleeding wounds, his rear end still smoking from the miqo’te’s well-placed, albeit amateur, lightning spell. He was defeated, grunting in pain and disbelief, now reaching around helpless for his axe. Elysea chanted one more spell, raising an open hand into the air. Rocks from under the soil of the valley quickly collected around the man’s boots and calves. The viera clenched her fist, and the rocks solidified around them, preventing him from moving or standing up, leaving him on his knees. She then left him to his fate, and glided over to the Moon Keeper again, who was now watching the mysterious viera in disbelief.

“Are you hurt?” the viera asked, her voice soft and motherly, as she sheathed her sword, holding the scabbard and shaft of her staff both with one hand. The blue light from behind her hood faded, and the viera exhaled softly as it did so, as if relieved. The miqo’te said nothing, her mouth open as she gazed upon her savior. She was so tall over her, in her lavender colored dress and white hooded cloak. Her lips looked soft and cared-for, her chin, the only part of her face she could clearly make out, was spotless except for some specks of blood and an old, faded scar. She could make out silvery blue hair falling out of the hood, which ended just below her collar bone. In this moment, the viera was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. “Wh - who…are you?” the miqo’te squeaked out, her eyes still full of amazement. The cloaked viera’s lips stretched into a small grin, and she opened her mouth to speak. But before she could, she saw the leader stand up in the distance behind the Moon Keeper. Through gritted teeth, he prepared a knife to throw it at the girl’s back. 

“No!” Elysea shouted, as she shoved the girl out of the way. The hyur’s knife hurled through the air by Elysea, slicing her arm as she attempted to dodge it herself. She then returned by chanting and holding out her hand. The wind whipped up again into a small tornado under him, lifting the man into the air and pinning him to a tree as he shouted and struggled against it. The miqo’te girl gasped and watched, as Elysea approached the man slowly, continuing to hold her hand toward him, the pressure of the wind keeping him held tight against the bark. Debris and small stones pelted him. The blue glow from her hood started again as the wind tore at his clothes. She stopped in front of him, the wind parting around her and coming together at his chest. He shouted, but the roar of her spell partially drowned it out, and her cloak and dress wisped toward him in a dance of deep lavender. Her lips formed a frown as the blue glow became the brightest it had been so far, and wind and debris continued to tear at his clothes and flesh. He found it impossible to breathe, and felt like he might pass out soon.

“I told you all to leave.” she said, her voice calm and cold, though her lips betrayed her demeanor. “I warned you, as a guardian of this forest.” The wind whipped her hood back, releasing her hair and ears from their confinement. Silvery blue strands danced about violently, and her ears were laid back and steady from anger. Her eyes glowed a deep aetherial blue as they gazed upon him. Her brows were furrowed tight. As the man’s clothing and flesh was torn asunder, he began to pass out. Finally, a branch tore from the tree she had pinned him against, and she noticed, and abruptly stopped her spell. She began to pant from exertion, as the light faded from her eyes, and her hand dropped limply to her side. The man, now unconscious, his bleeding flesh exposed through large rips in his clothes all throughout his body, collapsed to the forest floor and slumped against the tree, defeated.

“They are still alive. Go, quickly, and inform the Wailers while I restrain them. I will aid the doe as well, don’t worry.” the viera said to the miqo’te girl, without looking at her.

The viera’s gaze lingered the branch that she had broken off of the tree. She seemed to look at it with regret and remorse. The Keeper girl stared at the grisly sight of the man in shock, hardly registering what the viera had said to her. “But…who…what is your name? Please…” The girl meeked out. The viera looked at her sharply, her eyes their natural, steely blue-gray.

“I said go, now.” she said softly, but with gentle force. The miqo’te, realizing she would get no answers to her questions, nodded at her hesitantly, before beginning to jog away into the woods. Before she got far, Elysea called to her once more.

“Hey.”

The girl stopped and looked back at her in confusion.

“Tell not a soul what you saw tonight, aye?” Elysea said, with a small grin and a wink.

Night had fallen. The young conjurer followed behind a group of Wood Wailers, their weapons and lanterns ready as they entered the valley. The scene was calm and quiet now. The mad axeman laid fully on the ground now, resting and tied, his wounds partially healed, his legs still encased in hardened earthen shackles. The other hyur and elezen were tied together at the broken tree, the leader with his head also tied up, the rope going between his teeth, preventing him from speaking coherently, and the unharmed elezen remaining silent, his head hanging in defeat. The Wailers quickly went into action in collecting the poachers. The miqo’te looked around for any sign of the viera that had saved her, but she was long gone. Curiously, the branch that had torn from the tree was now gone. As she looked into the distance, on the crest of the hill in the moonlight, she saw the fawn staring at her gratefully. From behind the crest, its mother stepped up and looked as well, before the two darted off out of sight. The miqo’te smiled to them and waved a goodbye, and dropped her staff to her side, relieved.