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Walk ? "Talk" ? 'Think'
Ah, solitude. It gave the tempest such a great feeling within her chest, as if birds were fluttering in a cage, wishing to be freed, but also to be protected. Except, this slate stained mistress did not want to be protected, or undermined in any way possible. There was such simplicity in this land, an elegant cliff in the open of the sunlight, which in turn would reflect off the cresting waves in the cerulean depths of the sea. It all worked together in such exquisite harmony. The sound of the ever-impending waves.
The slate tempest's pads ached from her long journey to escape the demise of her clan, the Nocturne. Her mother had died while protecting her from a war that her clan had succumbed to so quickly, splitting the clan into smaller and smaller halves until only her family remained. Although this seemed terrible, she would not dwell upon her mistakes of journeying across the borders of a hidden world, which in turn ignited a war that had been asleep for many generations.
It was a new life, "A new generation." A sigh sounded from the inky lips of the tempest, as she lie down amongst the wildflowers, feeling the cool dew among the small of her back, and her banner thumped on the ground contently. A thought would occur to the tempest to rebuild the Nocturne, and bring them to their former glory, but perhaps that would be a stale mate, as she was in no condition to fight, and she had little formal training, though she had a bit of experience.
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