[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/241208/a04161052c56932d95d6bf9168fcef02.png[/img][/center][hr][i]Outskirts of Camp[/i][hr]
To Nesna’s frustration, reacclimating to civilized life had been harder than she’d first expected. On her own, she’d been able to operate along her own sleep schedule—one which seemed to have become even more wildly out of sync with that of normal folk than it’d been even before the endless night. Sometimes, she’d awaken to a bustling little community. Others, she’d find herself in that same eerie dead silence that punctuated the wild outskirts of the blight. She’d tried to convince herself that she preferred the spells of activity, that it was right and sensible that she be social. And yet, even amongst those who spared her judgement, she found herself subtly repulsed, yearning for the isolated stillness of the silent winter wilderness. It frustrated her to no end. She pushed herself to sit in range of the hearth’s warmth, to sit politely amongst those who’d become unlikely comrades, and tried to force down drinks generously shared. But the pull of nothingness remained. 

This dissonance between impulse and ideal only seemed to wane when she worked. Though she had much to learn, both academically and with respect to her new superiors, the unfamiliarity here was expected and stimulating. Especially in the beginning, Eris in particular had seen to it that most of her work be solo and at a safe distance. A sensible measure indeed. And not an unwelcome one. Though she’d made every effort to be approachable, she simply wasn’t—no blightborn could be, herself most of all. The honesty in that treatment was itself a relief, and the limitations it imposed precluded jumping right into the work. So she was eased into both the work and the relationships. At first, she made a point of not pushing the envelope, of keeping a sensible distance and following Eris’ lead. But it quickly became effortless. Though perhaps not as intellectually appealing, the grunt worth she was landed with had a certain meditative property to its dullness.

In truth, fetching samples felt almost more appealing than taking notes on them at this point. It had often occurred to Nesna in recent days that she might take a more involved role, but each time she took off on a scouting run or a jaunt off to fetch samples from the surrounding environment, the whipping of the frozen air past her as she flew brought her a sense of tranquility and pushed the thought out of mind. She hadn’t quite accepted the feeling, but she couldn’t deny her heart told her to keep running errands—errands that meant she spent as much time away from the rest of the group as with them. She’d started proposing them herself, sometimes without a real sense of whether there was a real purpose to them.

Today was one such case. Nesna had flown and landed all around the perimeter, then some distance beyond, then back again, and yet even around the abandoned village, she’d failed to find anything worthy of collecting. So she flitted back towards camp, landing on the outskirts so as not to frighten guards who were surely on edge, with empty vials and jars in tow. Again.

[b]Mentions[/b]
Eris [@The Muse]