Welcome to life in Aldrip with Ethlyn, the well-respected widow. If you don't know her, then she probably knows you, whether you've helped out with one of her community charity events or you have a reputation for troublemaking about town. Busy, well-intentioned, and maybe a little gossipy, you'll never see her idle.
Our house in the middle of our street
[Life in Aldrip can be bittersweet for Ethlyn. She was so young to be widowed like that (like what?) but she's never been the sort to let herself stay down for too long. As much as she misses her dear husband, she can't sit in the house all day pining over his photograph. She has to be out and doing. And that's what she does, every day!
Village fetes. Soup drives for seniors. Community gardening. If it's a benevolent task she can manage, Ethlyn will be in there, sleeves rolled up and bustling about. If she has a vice, it's a bit of a penchant for getting into other people's business--always with the best of intentions, but she will pry, and she will sometimes indulge in a little gossip.]
Oh really, this is such a mess. You troublemaking fairies! [She plants her hands on her hips, a bedraggled scarf hanging limply from one fists.] I was hoping we could sell these to raise funds for the clinic. Now they're no more than dust rags.
Labyrinthine
Wha...
[Ethlyn shakes her head. How in the world did she get here? She doesn't remember walking into a maze. Come to think of it, she does not remember there being a maze in Aldrip. Unless it's a corn maze for the harvest festival, and this sure isn't that.]
Is anyone there? [Her shout bounces off the walls of the labyrinth and back into her ears.] This isn't funny! I insist on being shown the way out, this moment!
Certainty the end of a sword.
[She catches it out of the corner of her eye--a glint of light from something sharp. She's seized with a desire to not find out what it is, but she overrides it in a moment. If there's a knife been left out, of course she'll put it away... but it isn't a knife. It's a sword.
It has a name.
Ethlyn shakes her head hard. This is absurd. It's a sword, a dreadful thing, and she shouldn't even be looking at it.
It follows her.
Finally she can't take it anymore. She turns and stares at it. Her breath catches. A sword is a weapon of war. She can't think of one single reason why there would be one here in peaceful Aldrip. Even less can she imagine why part of her thinks that it is... beautiful. Everything about her rational mind says to get away from it, but there is a part of her that insists that she knows this sword....]
Who is leaving swords around town? [She blinks hard.] This isn't for some party, is it? We aren't having some sort of knights-and-princesses faire?
Ethlyn | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War (allegedly)
Our house in the middle of our street
[Life in Aldrip can be bittersweet for Ethlyn. She was so young to be widowed like that (like what?) but she's never been the sort to let herself stay down for too long. As much as she misses her dear husband, she can't sit in the house all day pining over his photograph. She has to be out and doing. And that's what she does, every day!
Village fetes. Soup drives for seniors. Community gardening. If it's a benevolent task she can manage, Ethlyn will be in there, sleeves rolled up and bustling about. If she has a vice, it's a bit of a penchant for getting into other people's business--always with the best of intentions, but she will pry, and she will sometimes indulge in a little gossip.]
Oh really, this is such a mess. You troublemaking fairies! [She plants her hands on her hips, a bedraggled scarf hanging limply from one fists.] I was hoping we could sell these to raise funds for the clinic. Now they're no more than dust rags.
Labyrinthine
Wha...
[Ethlyn shakes her head. How in the world did she get here? She doesn't remember walking into a maze. Come to think of it, she does not remember there being a maze in Aldrip. Unless it's a corn maze for the harvest festival, and this sure isn't that.]
Is anyone there? [Her shout bounces off the walls of the labyrinth and back into her ears.] This isn't funny! I insist on being shown the way out, this moment!
Certainty the end of a sword.
[She catches it out of the corner of her eye--a glint of light from something sharp. She's seized with a desire to not find out what it is, but she overrides it in a moment. If there's a knife been left out, of course she'll put it away... but it isn't a knife. It's a sword.
It has a name.
Ethlyn shakes her head hard. This is absurd. It's a sword, a dreadful thing, and she shouldn't even be looking at it.
It follows her.
Finally she can't take it anymore. She turns and stares at it. Her breath catches. A sword is a weapon of war. She can't think of one single reason why there would be one here in peaceful Aldrip. Even less can she imagine why part of her thinks that it is... beautiful. Everything about her rational mind says to get away from it, but there is a part of her that insists that she knows this sword....]
Who is leaving swords around town? [She blinks hard.] This isn't for some party, is it? We aren't having some sort of knights-and-princesses faire?
Wildcard!