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broken reflection
bouncing up from murky depths
she sits, entranced with
her soul is melting
dissipating into void
she stares at the pond
now her reflection
is scowling at the poor soul
as she's rejected
by her reflection
cast into oblivion
condemned to insan
ity.
If one were to look, though I doubt one would, one might see a flash of neon as the Hermit darted through the marsh. Strung around her neck was a small woven bag which contained many herbs, unique to this part of Baian. Worldswort, heartbreak, redemptia, warmstrike, ecstaless and many more, each with a purpose the that the Hermit had carefully picked out for each. They were to be used in her latest concoctions, which she was almost done concocting. In a few days, she thought with a flourish, there would be a cure for poverty, a cure for fallen reputations, a cure for even broken hearts. If she succeeded, that is.
Slowly she made her way towards the hollow tree trunk she called home. Leaping over protruding roots, ducking under the flaying willow wisps, weaving through the cattails, she eventually reached her destination. She proceeded to empty her pouch, placing all the herbs in their designated notches. She had done quite a lot with the place, really; with her claws, she had etched out notches inside the tree to store her belongings, her herbs and whatnot. Crammed into the shelves, one might also find various 'potions' stuffed into little glass vials, each with a little leaf attached to serve as a label. Busily, the Biolune Serraptor organised her little home, making sure everything was its place before sticking her head out of the tree, her gaze transfixed in a glare. Loud as she could manage, she croaked out a few words, in a tone of voice that was a bit less than friendly.
Any with a broken heart, any with a crippled limb, any with a sorrowed past, any who lack a reason to live. I seek the cure for all distress, I've not much else to do; aid me in this mighty quest, and the results shall then aid you!
She waited, head tilted to the side, her ears straining to catch an answering voice. If none replied, she'd be most disappointed.