Litila – Forest Fey / Warrior ?>

Litila – Forest Fey / Warrior

You couldn’t call Litila beautiful for she far surpasses the word and any other that offer a flaterring tone to the sublime; to look upon her fair face is to call even the sun dull. Her connection to Tarkeenia, along with every other living Fey is bound by Wild Magic, in life she willful and proud, ethereal full of purpose.

Imagine if you will, a woman who physique carries all the right curves in all the places and with it the pose and confidence to match any and all, expressions of admiration. Litila is a Mage to the Halls of Coowic, a royal in her own right from the Farmoor Forest and a skilled soldier.

Four and half feet tall, she walks in the Light with hair, when unbound kisses a set of perfect hips as she seductively walks the Halls corridors. Her laugh graces the darkest room, her eyes when she is in an agreeable mood shines an emerald green and her hands, though delicately boned never misses a target when she holds a blade.

It sounds too good to be true doesn’t it? And I suppose in a world of fantasy it can be, but don’t be fooled we all have faults and with Litila it is her temper. Sharp and unforgiving when its unleashed, but a Fey’s anger is as quick to fire as it is to cool.

In life, Feys live and work in harmony with the land, tending to their forests in tight knit communities, wary of outsiders and the pain they bring. Music and song, dance and truth bring joy as they live their long lives in peace.

Every thing dies, why should it be different for a Fey? But for them they are luckier than most, for after in death their essence still lives on. In the ground they go, buried like a waiting seed and as the new season dawns in the place of a rotting body, sprouts a tree. A tree of surpassing glory, with a white grainy trunk whose boughs lift in joy to the suns warmth and leaves all year round that shimmer gold.

Memories and the wisdom of each passing Fey, lives on in death as they once did in life, stored in the tree’s grainy skin. Only another Fey can touch upon its secrets and at the Halls, Litila keeps her family close. A grove of Goldtip trees basks in sunlight, swaying in dance to the wind and during her hour of mediation each day, our warrior Fey lovingly catches up. In silent communication with the dead Litila absorbs life times of recollections and sagacity.

As for her Calling, for each Mage has one, Litila’s is truth. She has the capacity to gleam it from within the heart.

Read about her in the coming chapters of The Unseen Promise.

 

 

 

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