Ahrk fin Kel lost prodah, do ved viing ko fin krah,
Tol fod zeymah win kein meyz fundein!

The sun had risen to its' highest point in the sky by the time she trudged through the pond and squeezed through the trees of the Secret Grove. So far, the day had been rather uneventful; something the dragonborn had encountered frequently here in Helovia and she still can't bring herself to get used to such a mundane life. With a heavy sigh, the dragonborn continues west, until she reaches the coast. She then follows it south a bit until she reaches the sandy shores. The beach is quiet aside from the small waves crashing forward and slipping back in an endless cycle. The bright blue of the ocean kisses the horizon in the distance, connecting blue with blue: water with sky. For a mare of black - of darkness and of shadows - she seemed out of place on the bright and seemingly cheerful beach.

It is also infinitely uncomfortable for the dragonborn to be without some darkness or shadows but she need to know every inch of Helovia. Every inch includes the places she'd likely only visit once if she could help it, and this place certainly makes that list. The salt from the sea taints everything here, including the warm breeze combing the unruly red-tipped black tresses of her mane and tail. Heat from the sun warms her back; the black of her coat absorbing the warmth with a rather greedy abandon. Facing the sea, the dragonborn simply stands - green gaze focused and yet not, her coat shiny beneath the sun's rays highlighting the hard curves of her strong and sturdy body. Her hooves blending with the red socks on her legs where the sunlight directly caressed their surface. Bormah's pendant, attached just behind her ear on the base of her right antler, shivers in the ocean winds - drawing her attention away from her empty and rather lonely existence. Her thoughts rather easily drift to the Dragon God of Time, Bormah. She welcomes the distraction.

A few moments pass before a small smile curves her lips. "Nahlot dii zeymah." she says softly, her voice somewhat rough and thick.  As usual, her voice sounds fairly sultry; somehow sexually charged even alone as she is in this moment. For the first time since her arrival in Helovia, though, her vigilance slips. She doesn't even notice the presence of another nearby. It's a potentially dangerous situation. Not for herself, no. The dragonborn is well versed and well trained to take care of herself. Death didn't knock on her door. She picked the lock for Death on the doors of others. It was what she had trained for back home and it isn't something she could easily forget.

DOVAHKIIN