{Human Form}
There was a decided air of gaiety in the atmosphere as the sun beat down on the grassy expanse of the plains, warming the dew-laden grasses as the blades bobbed and sparkled in the light breeze. Normally, the prairie-like region was blanketed by a layer of calm, quiet tranquility at this hour in the morning: Today though, was not one of those days. The sounds of music, chatter, and laughter filled the clear air, punctuated by an occasional outburst of cheering, many warm, tempting scents permeating the playful gusts which billowed across the flatlands. Multicolored tarps and exhibitions splayed across the emerald turf, peppered with flecks of color which were people, all dressed up in some form of medieval garb or another. Indeed, one could not have chosen a better day to hold a Renaissance Faire.
It was still early in the day, and the events had just begun. People continued to flood into the already-crowded grounds, each person outfitted in anything ranging from elegant to outlandish clothing. There was one main amphitheater where all of the main events would be held, and scattered around it in a wide, loose radius were multitudes of smaller stalls and booths. Already, a small crowd had gathered on the stands which encircled the large platform, where one of the first events of the day was already taking place. Two faceless figures, both decked in full suits of spotless white, visages hidden behind dark, wire masks, faced off on the stage, weapons poised to strike. Unlike the various try-it-yourself stands which offered chances to duel a friend with masks and blunted foils, this display was in deadly earnest. One of the challengers was sturdy, muscular-looking and well-built while his adversary was much more lean and wiry in build, smaller, but more agile in appearance. Both opponents wielded not the typical, lightweight foils usually used in fencing, but instead, they used the heavier but quicker sabres, which alone bespoke a skill level that easily trumped that of any other display of swordplay commonly found.
At the referee’s terse command, the show began. This obviously wasn’t a staged production, and neither opponent had faced the other before, so it was a few long moments of tense anticipation before one of them finally took the initiative to lunge in, aiming more to judge their adversary’s abilities than for an actual strike. In the blink of an eye, the dais had exploded in a flurry of motion, arms and blades flashing faster than the eye could follow, feet dancing in intricate patterns as the pair engaged and drew away, only to throw themselves back into furious combat. For a few gripping minutes, neither party could gain any advantage over the other, but it slowly became obvious as one of the challengers began to falter, their steps a little less energetic, their blocks a fraction of a second slower. Suddenly, with a swift prise de fer that twisted both blades in an elegant twirl, the weapon was wrenched clean from the flagging opponent’s hand to sail over his head, landing several feet away as it skittered to a stop on the far end of the stage. With that, the match was over, the remaining sabre resting lightly against the loser’s cloth-clad throat with a firm finality. With the completion of the formalities between the two opponents, they exited the platform, once again strangers.
Backstage, the victor took a brief moment to bask in her conquest before shedding her fencing apparel, donning a more event-appropriate garb which consisted of an elegant dress, tailored in the style of medieval nobility. It was much more cumbersome that she might have preferred or was used to, but the lady who had helped her to find a fitting dress for the occasion had insisted that this was the one for her. So, not in the mood to argue the point, and half-heartedly admitting that however ungainly it might be, it looked rather flattering on her, she had taken it. Her golden-blonde hair fell to the middle of her back, half restrained by a clip which kept the locks from falling in her face. Her features were completely unrecognizable from the expert swordswoman who had so recently dominated the stage: They were soft, gentle features set on pale cream skin, her bright, compassionate eyes a pale shade of sapphire, framed by the gold tresses which cascaded over her back and shoulders. It was almost as if she had undergone a metamorphosis, and to most of the unobservant, it was nearly impossible to associate her with the masked fencer.
For now, her obligations had been fulfilled, and she was free to wander about the expansive spread that was the Renaissance Faire. She had only been to one or two in her lifetime, and every time, it had been like a completely new experience to her. There was always something new to see and to do, and never enough time for it all. Although she appeared calm and collected on the surface, there was a bubbly excitement which sparkled in her eyes as she meandered through the stalls, a small smile lighting her delicate features. She knew the general direction in which she was headed: She had particularly wanted to see the falconry exhibition this year, as the beauty and grace of the supremely efficient hunters of the air had always captivated her. Who was to say that she couldn’t admire what lay all around her on her way there though?
{This is the dress which I imagined her in :3 Hehe, bit more lavish than I intended, but I fell in love with it <3}