#st-cichol

@st-cichol

The time of Fodlan being made and creating the children that were made from Sothis’ own flesh and blood were something of a long time to mere mortals. She had seen the others that had been created as well, people who were not like her or her children. Sothis had witnessed people come and go as her children were growing up. She knew that her little Nabateans would have a very long life span like her own. 

Her children would do their own thing and she would help assist and guide them to the correct path. Of course they were free to do their own things as well and not be restrained to rules that she had created. There were restrictions of course, but she wanted her children to have the freedom she experienced.

Sothis still watched over them, they were still very young compared to her. She sat in a tree, watching over her children in the area. Some were out doing other things, but Sothis watched over one of her younger children. A strong little one named Cichol. He was always strong and never knew his own strength. She was here to help assist him though.

Floating down from the tree, she approached her little one and knelt down. Cichol’s eyes were bright and so full of life. Her hand rested in his hair gently and ruffled his hair. “How’s your practice going, Cichol?” Her kind nature always kicked in with her children. The surroundings were peaceful and they was nothing to truly worry about with the world. 

🏰 - Your muse asks my muse to build a sandcastle together.

Sothis had known that her children wanted to visit the local beach. With them being a bit older, it was perfectly acceptable. Cichol was very excited to be able to go with his darling mother to the beach. Sothis placed a beach towel out on the soft warm sands and sat in the towel.

She watched as her kids dispersed out, relaxing some, Cichol had approached her and asked to build... A sandcastle? A sandcastle was a castle made of sand for pure enjoyment though, no? Sothis gave a soft smile towards her child and ruffled his hair. 

@st-cichol

The halls were empty. Good, the coast was clear. Bernadetta stepped out of her room with the upmost caution. She didn’t want to be in anyone’s way, after all. Plus, whoever she ran into would’ve likely began talking to her, and she wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t know what to say, and whoever she spoke to might get angry with her if she didn’t know how to respond. The situation could get messy, and Bernadetta wanted nothing to do with that. She treaded down the hall, needle and thread in hand in order to begin a little project she had in mind in the greenhouse.

As she went down the halls, she began to grow comfortable of the outdoor silence. The thought of going down to the greenhouse began to overshadow her fears, and for that moment, she was happy. Bernadetta began to pick up the pace and broke out into a hum.

Then she stopped, catching a glimpse of a man with green hair. It was the archbishop’s advisor, Seteth. She crept behind him, not wanting him to notice her. However, her thoughts began to spill from her lips.