Today While the Blossoms Still Cling to the Vine

Artemis, lost in the brutality of winter, had found herself mostly alone. With Crew disbanded, there was nothing to guide her, and not much she found herself particularly moved by aside from the seasons and migrations of prey. As she aged, the astral fae was finding herself less keen on company anyways, and more appreciative of her time spent alone. In her mind she had found her polish as a clean cut gemstone, as opposed to a rough stone. A gemstone who's edges were sharp enough to cut, but a gemstone nonetheless. Artemis walked lightly among the trees, gait graceful and light despite her size. There was a scent here that was familiar to her, one she had been seeking for some time. Her damn sister, who she didn't seem able to keep tabs on no matter how hard she tried, must surely be somewhere near by...