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The monastery was everything she could have dreamed of and more. She certainly had a number of adjustments to make. For one, the bedding didn't hold a candle to her own in terms of room and comfort and there was an appalling lack of pillows but to be fair, even her own bed barely had enough room to hold the frankly absurd amount she preferred. She ought to have brought another trunk with her just for more pillows; she couldn’t expect them to accommodate such a trifling detail so she’d just have to make due for the time being and hope that perhaps some merchants stopping at the village would have a few to sell, though she wasn’t terribly optimistic. Thankfully, Lienna’s prediction about the chill air creeping into the room didn’t seem to come true so at the very least she could still wake up in a room without the chill biting at her feet. She always found it that much harder to slip out of the comforting nest of bedding when her feet were in danger of freezing. 

Of course, even if that were the case, her first morning watching the sunrise made all her concerns seem so trivial. Waking up before the sun was a routine she’d had since she was young and a change in altitude wasn’t about to change that. She found herself crossing the quiet monastery grounds in the early morning darkness, amazed at the difference from home. Even if it was a slow morning on the docks, the sea winds always whisked the creaks of ships at rest into her window, the heavy footfalls of guards and the pleasant scent of morning bread following closely on it’s heels. The thrum of the city was never far away, never fully gone, but the monastery was so still and serene. There was a weightlessness, sitting so far above the world, that slowed her step and evened her breath. She’d felt it briefly, staring far beyond the horizon on the bridge, but here and now, with the world still asleep and a comforting silence draped across her shoulders, the world seemed so much kinder, so less judgemental, so less demanding. 

She expected her mornings in the cathedral to be like that; full of reverent reflection and easy awakenings but instead she found her breath stolen from her as the sun rose behind the Cathedral. Sunlight poured in through stained glass and she drank the sight of it like a woman parched from the desert. It reminded her of a lesson from years ago, when she struggled to find reason for the burden of this mark and she nearly became the very shade her mother sought her to be. The sun rise was beautiful because they, humanity, made it so. From the Goddess’ first step sprouted all life and yet in the appreciation of creation, were they humanity the only ones who see greater beauty, greater meaning. The hawk and the rabbit both use the sun to mark the new day but they do not see comfort or beauty in the simple act of light breaking the horizon. That was humanity’s decision. And she thought she’d understood that but now, watching sunlight pour like water through the windows of the Cathedral of the hallowed grounds of Garrag Mach, she found she hadn’t understood it much at all.

The experience moved her to tears. 

Classes… were less moving. They were interesting, she wouldn’t deny that. Learning history without the lens of the Leicester Alliance proved a thought provoking exercise but she couldn’t deny reviewing things she’d already known was monotonous. She understood that she’d had access to some of the best tutors in the Leicester Alliance and not everyone had the privilege but they could have made separate classes. They already had the format for it; with the classes changing between Unit and House, the Academy could easily make it happen. 

Which was why she was so excited about this training camp. It was something exciting and new and she’d been so wholly enthusiastic the mild monotony of her classes couldn’t bring her down. Not even Jorah’s incessant need for attention and frivolity could dampen her mood. She even found it adorably childish most of the time, even when he threw a fit about her room change instead of just convincing Imogen to switch (which he later did with all the eloquence and grace of a toddler). And if he couldn’t temper her excitement, then nothing could.

Which is what she believed until a two hour carriage ride soured her mood immensely. Honestly, how did anyone manage to travel like this? Every bump and shift made her jam uncomfortably into Jorah and the seats were hard and unforgiving. They ought to have told them to keep their transportation. Using her own carriage would have proven far more comfortable and would have significantly reduced the strain on everyone involved. Or at the very least advised them to bring cushions! She’d remember this for the future because she wasn’t sure she could handle another two hours of this, much less an entire trip. 

She’d practically launched herself out of the carriage when the opportunity presented itself, stretching out the soreness in her limbs from being in such cramped quarters for so long. Absolutely dreadful. Why anyone chose to travel like that was beyond her. At least if she’d had the opportunity to ride horseback, she wouldn’t have been fighting anyone for space the entire time. She took in their surroundings as she stretched, wincing as the soreness stubbornly fought her.

[color=FF650E]“I think I’d rather be on the receiving end of Duke Gloucester’s archaic rambling than suffer through this another two hours.”[/color] Clarissa grumbled to Jorah. The gentle hush of flowing water proved a pleasant background to their rest stop at the very least. [color=FF650E]“Next time I’ll remind everyone to bring a cushion.”[/color]