well that just dills my pickle [MEETING]

With Ulfr off on his own now permanently, Asvor couldn't help the restlessness that sometimes threated to overtake her. Somehow in her older age she had grown more and more used to idleness; in a peculiar sort of way it felt earned, like something she had a right to, though that didn't mean she wanted to always do nothing. She was a Finnvi, after all, and Finnvis were the type to stop just because they were getting older. And while she enjoyed periods of relaxation she felt suddenly reinvigorated by Tyrian's call to assemble, knowing this meant something interesting was coming. He wasn't the type to hold meetings just for the sake of it, so she could only assume they were due to celebrate, or to fight - or maybe a bit of both.

Either option sounded fantastic to her.

She'd been rearranging her meager supplies of herbs before winter fully settled in. The south in general was far more temperate than the lands of her youth, but that didn't necessarily they'd have an easy winter - it felt as though last winter had just barely ended, more bitter than she remembered since settling down in these lands. Unfortunately her store of herbs wasn't terribly impressive, but she'd make do, as she always did. Stretching out her limbs as she stood from her brief break, she headed quickly to Tyrian's call, noting the group that had arrived so far. In the crowd she searched for Valdis before anyone else, though quickly settled in and faced Tyrian, eyes gleaming with anticipation.