Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-19164168-20170209134944/@comment-32420582-20170221052728

The icy wind swirled, a cloak billowing out trying to follow the wind's path to no avail. The frigid region of the Jerrall Mountains had always been cold and windy, but at the graveyard, it always seemed much worse.

A soft laugh cut through the air as a cloaked woman smiled fondly, remembering some old tales which her father would tell her each night, as she huddled up under her furs to fight off the cold of Bruma. This woman, she stood before a grave, holding a white flower which she carefully placed on where disturbed soil use to lay.

"I miss you, dad." She spoke as if she was talking to an actual being instead of a grave. She sunk down to her knees, it looked like she was taking a meditative stance, and she was probably was as she set down a helmet beside her. "I wish you were still here, I have so many tales to tell you about Cyrodiil, Skyrim and Morrowind." She murmured, a melancholy settling over her.

"So much has happened, like now, my hair is blue from an incident with magic." She started rattling off various adventures as she just kneeled there, with her eyes closed.

"There's a strange seal in my eye."

"I've learned to wield a blade."

"I can also now climb stuff with ease, and almost as run as fast as a horse."

She continued listing off various adventures, things she learned, and much more before she reached the end of her list and sighed heavily.

"...was this what you intended when you sent me away, dad?" She asked herself, her voice quiet and saddened.