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About Maveranne

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  1. -If looks could kill, darling, you'd be dead.- There was something oddly satisfying about tending to a garden. It didn't matter what the fruit of her garden bore, it was just the fact that she could spend hours within her sanctuary, surrounded by the tall stalks of waving kelp. She sat on her knees outside of the citadel, digging through the fertilized sand, watching as small crustasions carried out their lives, making their homes around her plants. It didn't matter, she thought, for their dead bodies would make good compost. One of her slender hands was a dyed, bright blue. Usually a pale, almost pink color, she stared at the results of a particular kelp, she had been experimenting with color changing flora to give her Psyren another way of deception, another way to hide who they were. It did not go well. She smirked, remembering the face of Xaprychor when she went to him for help two weeks ago, shaking her hand in his face. He seemed immune to her antics, only raising his perfectly perfect king eyebrow, just smiling his usual perfectly perfect smile. "I can't help you, dear N'ataeya. It will go away on its own." So she had been homebound, waiting for the damned dye to fade on her hand, only to watch her fingernails turn the color of the purple coral she grew in the southwest corner of her garden. Cursing to herself once more, for she had probably done it every time she even got a glance at her now cerulean colored digits, she stood up and brushed the sand off of her knees. She was donned in yellow, two small straps holding together a patch of sea silk. The straps wrapped around her neck, joining together just above her bosom, the silk held around her like a bikini. A wrap of teal was circling just below her hip bones, tying at the side of her thigh, the other side reaching her foot. Normally she wouldn't go for such casual attire, but it would be hard to garden in her Psyren like uniform. Pulling her hair up with a piece of long string, she set to work on walking through her crops, arms brushing against the dancing stalks of multicolored kelp when she heard it- the cries of the Nymerian's. Cries, calls, cheers, and then, a roar. Her chest concaved in on itself as she stopped breathing, her movements still. Living in the outskirts of the city had its advantages, privacy, for one. While she was normally never home, Xaprychor informed her that the less runes and magic she used, the faster the dye would go away, so she was homebound until she could use the means to get to work. That meant though, she wasn't spying. She wasn't watching. And it was almost a dream come true, for a moment. But when the music and conchs began blaring, and her fellow Nymerian's calling out the name of her lost King, N'ataeya wanted to scream at her own stupidity. He was home. All at once, she began moving, not caring she did not look nothing like she should. As leader of the Psyren, she should look as pristine as the royal family themselves, but she didn't care. Ryxchra wouldn't mind, she kept telling herself. Thoughts of her attire left her mind as she raced the streets, families leaving as well, hearing the commotion and chants as well. There seemed to be an overwhelming sense of happiness, if not nervousness through the crowds once she reached the center of the Citadel, soldiers standing atop walls as they watched with unabashed excitement. She caught site of the King's unruly hair, and she almost sobbed, her voice caught in her throat. She wanted to scream out at the king, her closest friend as he swam towards the blue building that was his families home. Picking up her pace, she dashed after the disappearing body of the man she once called her best friend, only hearing from him a handful of times during his ten year travels. Each note he left her, attached to a single shining pearl gave her hope that he would one day return to them... Return to her. "Move!" She heard herself yell out to the citizens, knowing she would regret her tone later. She passed the doors and gates as she followed behind the crowds. Later on she would just think back and tell herself she should have gone through the other doors, should have just waited for him inside. But her thoughts could not be pulled together, not when she could heart her own blood roaring in her ears. When she had finally come within yelling distance of the King, she cried out. "My king..! Rxychra!" She was sure she was not heard, the yelling of the crowds covering her own voice. She shouldered past more bodies as she came closer, only a couple of feet behind the man, and she yelled once more. "Rxychra!" She looked wild, she knew. Her hair came loose while she was swimming to him earlier, now finally catching up to her body as she stared, her eyes searching for his face. Looking as if she had just swam an entire marathon by herself, the pink haired Psyren stood her ground, waiting for her King to answer her call, a hand going to her chest, trying to calm her stammering heartbeat. Her king was home.
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