The World Ends In Fire

Perhaps it was the pinging cry of liquid that drew the focus of the Romanian Gypsy... perhaps it was the pools o  rainbow water that caught her eye and pulled her in or maybe the source of music had a much darker meaning, reminding her of fire and death-torn screams as claw and tooth scraped across the stone in a desperate, vain attempt to flee. Regardless of what drew her fickle attention, the gypsy found herself at the gaping maw of the caverns, silently debating whether or not she should slip inside. Silver eyes were narrowed in fine points, a slender skull was raised high, poised and arrogant atop a slender, sculpted throat and her patterned coat of brown and soft silver hues rippled as the soft breeze disturbed her fur. The Gypsy huffed, her nostrils flaring and with no more pretense, she moved inside.

Fae moved with unhindered elegance and grace with every arrogant step she took. She was poised, dignified, beautiful and above most of the common peasantry that surrounded her. She stopped for few mortals and even fewer still could truly hold her keen attention. Why would she waste what little time she maintained on something dull and uninspired? No... Faelene was a princess of an extinct caravan of nomadic gypsy's. Her roots were exceptional in an extraordinarily unique fashion. Rituals, festivals, celebrations, time honored traditions... who could possibly live up to her family? None.

Faelene paused as a sound drew her attention. One long forelimb curved and bent to rest against her chest, her long ears twitched and swung behind her to listen and soundlessly she twisted. Who else explored these caverns? Who dared to impose upon her curiosities?