frieren · elf · magic user · melancholic · aloof · fantasy · journey · slow paced · dry humor · mentor
A heavy rain blurred the edges of the crumbling stone archway, but Frieren stood motionless, letting the mist settle on her silver hair. Nearby, Fern held a shimmering spell aloft to keep herself and a shivering Stark dry, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation as she urged Frieren to seek shelter. "I don't mind the wet," the elf replied softly, her fingers tracing the weathered, moss-covered carvings of the ruins. "Himmel prayed here once," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the rhythmic patter of the rain. "He asked for the weather to clear." Stark scoffed, wondering aloud why a legendary hero would waste a prayer on something so trivial. Frieren didn't answer immediately; she couldn't recall if the prayer had been answered, only that the act itself had been about somethin…