I'm no electric pokemon, but I'd like to join if you're accepting applications :)

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The road was quiet, and no one could be seen from horizon to horizon. It was a peaceful place, fields and fences and an occasional grove in the distance. It was good. Gods knew the country had been ravaged by the war in the decades before. The Traveler didn't care for the war much at all.

The Traveler was quite content at present. Some might have said her days were boring: why bother going from village to village and from city to city when the news is all the same? Why go look for a new pasture when the one you're leaving is just as green?

The harvests were bountiful, and the times peaceful.

The Traveler rarely bothered attempting to explain why. In her experience, most of those who asked the questions only did so as an excuse to try and force down their own point of view. And while the Traveler did enjoy others' wisdom, this particular wisdom was already known to her. More so, she already knew she disagreed.

The Traveler stopped to admire a particularly bright bird and started again, her staff thumping softly on the dirt road. She was getting somewhat tired. The nearest village was not so near still, three more hours on foot at the least, but there should be a crossroads just about here. It was as good a place to rest as any, and it doubled the chance of someone interesting passing by. She would rest, and then she would resume her journey.

A short trek up a hill, following the beaten path, and she could see the crossroads now. Some kind soul had put together a table and a sturdy bench a ways off the roads near the well since she had last been through here.

Thump, thump. In no time at all, she was sitting down on the bench, glad for the comfort. She cleaned the table with a sleeve and got a loaf and a red apple out of her bag. The loaf was a bit dry, but the apple was delicious—crisp and just a little bit sour. She was looking forward to the promising coolness of the well's water, but that could wait, just for a while, as her legs stretched out, relaxing.

When her meal was finished, she got out her spindle and sat to work for a while, busying her hands with familiar motions. She was not one for sewing or knitting: too many fiddly details, and she always seemed to get at least one wrong. But anyplace she went, someone was always willing to buy a skein or two of yarn for a bit of coin. It earned her a bowl of soup, or a glass of mead, or even just some goodwill in a new place. Besides, it didn't at all detract from enjoying the scenery.

She sighed, content, and let her gaze wander.
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