[center]Era 3, Year 351

A few miles east of Corsa[/center]

Yyma awoke as the first rays of daylight greeted his closed eyes, cascading over the wooded campsite. Rolling over in his sleeping bag into a bowed position he recited his daily prayer. 

[i][center]"Aho Pachamama, Great Spirit. Thank you for waking me and allowing me another opportunity to serve you today. Please watch over me and lead my hand to do your highest will and bidding. Heal me, Teach me, Guide me, Know me. Please fill me with your boundless love so that I may share it with those in need and do your work. Help me to remain strong in my virtue and be rooted in the face of the evil. This I ask and I give thanks, aho." [/center][/i]
As if to acknowledge the intention, the sun shone brightly for a brief short moment, before becoming enveloped by a blanket of thick nimbostratus clouds. Despite this, the forest teemed with life; birds sang in heavenly choirs offering songs of praise, squirrels skipped nimbly from branch to branch, taking impressive leaps from one tree to another, and ants could be seen out marching at full force, collecting any last minute supplies or rations for the coming winter. The changing of the foliage filled Yyma with great delight, seeing the multitude of hues move in unison to the breeze as leaves performed their final dances of the season. In the high desert mountains the autumunal change was minimal and in the great jungles of the south this did not occur. Having only touched down in Lhivoria such a short time ago this was taken as a great omen, representing the changes that have taken place and those that were to come, Yyma was in a state of much contentment. After completing a rotation of pranayam and asanas taught by a beloved medicine yogi in the desert, Yyma broke down his simple camp and set foot for Corsa, residing only a few miles west of his current position. 

The dreary sky blanketed over the vast land with a sense of sadness,in which Yyma used as an opportunity to liven things up with music. Thumbing the artefact hanging by a leather cord around his neck it transformed into his beloved charango. Running his fingers across the neck, Yyma began a familiar tune that was taught to him in the jungle. He played for much of the solitary walk until he felt his mood shifted, when simultaneously he overcame a small hill bringing the city of Corsa into view. The sight of his vision manifested sent a surge of energy through his body and he returned the instrument to it's natural state, lounging around his neck. Yyma continued the remainder of the trek in silence, focusing on breathing and mental clarity, allowing the sounds of nature to nourish his being. As he approached the entry gates to the city, the lack of ambient noise from within was a bit offputting. Yyma had imagined a much more bustling environment, pushing these thoughts to the side and maintaining an optimistic approach, he passed through the entryway received by a silent welcome party.

A few minutes more of exploration revealed a rather large gathering of people in the hundreds at the town's square, not his preferred scene. Scouting for the point of focus he came across an armoured man, who appeared to be readying to deliver a decree of sorts. Sight of the polished metal gave Yyma a great sense of unease as it began triggering an internal flashback, grabbing hold of the Blessed Orgonite he whispered a prayer to himself and the feeling and images associated quickly subsided. Maintaining his distance but staying close enough to hear, Yyma strayed the edges of the mass of people when he felt a pang of fear ripple through the air. Taking a deep inhale grounding himself, he focused on the source of the energy, tracing it to a young woman wrapped in a cloak. Physically she appeared to be early in her twenties but possessed an air about her much older, that of burden. 

Taking care not to startle the woman in distress, he began walking towards her from the side, projecting an intention of love and healing, while pooling energy into his right hand. He could see that her energy was becoming confined to her neck and head, tell tale signs of oxygen restriction, likely hyperventilation. As he was just to the back left of her within arms reach, Yyma took a deep breath and placed his right hand on her back, centered between her shoulder blades, simultaneously releasing the breath through his nostrils and encouraging her breath and energy to flow down to her feet. As quickly as he had touched her he released, appearing to onlookers and those around them as nothing more than trying to get past her. Taking position to the right of her he spoke just audible enough for the woman to hear, maintaining a forward gaze. 

[i]"I apologize for touching you without your express permission m'am, I felt that you were in need and I took it upon myself to administer aid. How do you feel?" [@cereline][/i]

Yyma kept his eyes level, fixating them on the armourmed man whom was waiting to deliver the message to the anxious crowd, having just taken his helmet off in what looked like a show of frustration, awaiting the woman's response and what the man in the square had to say.