[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180521/594869b4bb9d5fea2627cb50de6c7675.png[/img][/center][hr][right][color=gray][b]Gardenia Outskirts[/b]
Early Morning[/color][/right][hr][indent]Being the dutiful maid she was, Cyndyr found herself an early riser.

Each morning Cyndyr would rise from her bed at the first sign of dawn, being up and ready before the world would wake up at the sound of a rooster's crow. Cyndyr did not mind her waking routine whilst others would frown at it, for the morning dew was glistening, the air was crisp and not a person had been in sight.

All and all, it was the perfect time to practice the posaune, away from the uneducated idiots that would laugh away at a simple misnote as Cyndyr played an angelic song.

Waltzing into the gardens with the brass instrument in hand, Cyndyr took a deep breath as she raised the pousane to her lips. By then, Cyndyr already knew what she was going to play, inspired by the gentle flowers of the Gardenian countryside. A tale of love–the solemn sound of a passionate couple, yet star-crossed!

If only Cyndyr had someone in similar regard. If only.

Playing her heart out, Cyndyr took a long pause to normalize her breathing once the sonata ended. Holding the pousane in her hands, Cyndyr took a long look at her audience, a group of roses that were dancing with the aid of a soft breeze. It was as if Cyndyr held her own mini-concert, but she knew full and well that while a flower may be beautiful, it was unable to hear a beautiful sound. Perhaps sometime in the far future someone would egg Cyndyr to walk on the stage, with pousane in hand, but alas, for now her company was with the flowers that grewy strong and plentiful throughout the wandering countryside.

[color=FF7B00][b]"Beautiful..."[/b][/color] Cyndyr uttered, smiling at such a sight, yet her gaze was not long. There was still the task of meeting one of the royal princesses, Marigold Roselia, for Cyndyr was among those hired for a secret rescue party to rescue the [i]other[/i] princess.

Returning to the interior of her small cottage, Cyndyr placed the pousane back in its carrying case. She did not have to worry about necessities or other various supplies, for Cyndyr had already packed what she assumed she would likely need for such a journey. A change of clothing, a few pans and cooking utensils, for example.

Hefting her bag over her shoulders, Cyndyr grabbed her pousane's case by its handle, and took one last look behind her at what she had built up over the past years. Maybe she would return, but for now, Cyndyr had a story to play apart of.

A grand tale of a ragtag bunch of misfits going on a quest to save the princess, after all. What [i]could[/i] possibly go wrong?[/indent]