Dec. 21st, 2011

garmayzaya: (Sad)
She was sitting under a willow, adjusting the straps on her pack for the sixth time in as many minutes. The sun would be setting soon and that meant she'd need to head into town. This particular slip of a village didn't offer much, but Garmay wasn't too picky when it came to where she slept.

It was what she ate that was more of a problem.

As she was considering her options, she heard it: Footsteps. Looking up, she spotted a lone figure moving down the road in her direction.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was her meal ticket.

Quickly, Garmay was on her feet. Carefully, she fluffed her hair over her ears, smoothing down the front of her dress to look respectable. She fished in her pocket for the wooden pan pipes her brother had given her the last time they spoke. That felt like a lifetime ago, but the pipes were still in tune and Garmay still knew all the songs. "Coins for a song, Mister," she said, careful to keep her Sarian accent in check before she started to play a spritely melody.

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garmayzaya: (Default)
Skye "Garmay" Zaya

July 2018

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