[h3][i]There was a tree in the distance, atop the hill.[/i][/h3]

Lasis walked towards it diligently, her ancient satchels of supplies, which consisted only of paints and brushes, creaked as they swung lightly. Every so often, something clinked or shifted in the satchels. She no longer had the energy in her to secure her satchels so that nothing moved. What did it matter, anyways? That was the question that often ran through her head.

The tree was but one in a clearing, the steep hill overlooking the rest of the forest, giving a view of its light canopy. The leaves shook in the breeze, every so often a leaf falling off and drifting away. Curiously, the leaves were pink. It gave an otherworldly impression, and once upon a time, may have served as inspiration. Lasis never gained any enjoyment from inspiration anymore, and indeed, took little enjoyment from anything at all.

She sat down under the tree, the satchels coming to rest against the ground. Some of them were clearly too large for her. For a while, she stayed still, wishing she had the capability to sleep, or do anything to take the edge of time passing by away. But no matter her ability, none of it was as powerful as the fundamentals of the universe.

She had not seen anybody in a long time. They hid from her when she neared, even if she didn't know why. She could no longer remember when she had last seen a friendly face. She slowly drew her hand into one of the satchels, taking out a roughshod piece of scrollpaper. With hesitance, she took out her brush, the one Jvan had given her so long ago, in better days.

Withdrawing a phial of black paint from yet another satchel, she dipped the brush in it and lightly began to create a rendition on it. It was of a young-looking Rovaick, with a serious look upon his face. Atop his head was a helmet. In the corner of the paper, the tip of a spear could be seen, as though the Rovaick was holding it. Once she was finished, she propped it against the tree, weighting down the bottom with a few rocks.

She kneeled in front of the art she had just made, looking to the ground. Her eyes dimmed a bit, though she was not capable of truly blinking. Then, she began to sing, in a practiced, almost heavenly voice. Her voice was slightly high-pitched, though not annoyingly so, and it gave the impression of a very musical gait.

"Leaves from the vine," she began to sing, looking up to the artwork.
"Falling so slow," she continued.
"Like fragile, tiny shells," her voice got quieter.
"Drifting in the foam." She finished, pausing for a long few seconds before launching into the second verse.
"Little soldier boy," her voice cracked, and she had trouble finishing the line.
"Come marching home," lowering her voice to a whisper, she hurried through the line, clearly barely able to bear singing it.
"Brave soldier boy," her voice continued to drift off.
"Come marching home." This line was barely above a whisper, spoken under her breath and petering off halfway through. She just dropped her head again, letting her balance drop.

Her body hit the ground. She simply curled up and waited. Maybe, just maybe, even though it had been years, and she had seen what happened with her own eyes, he would indeed come marching home.

Maybe.

[hider=Short post, yo, just read it fucker]
We meet again with Lasis! Last we saw of her, she was pre-realta.

She's not seen anybody in a while. Lonely.

She stops under a tree with pink blossoms for leaves, and eventually draws an art of a Rovaick. Who?

She sings really well, as it turns out.

But she's pretty sad, so she barely finished the short song.

:(

She basically fetal-positions.

Oh yeah I ripped off the avatar for that song. Don't tell them please
[/hider]