❝ a mermaid belongs to the sea. she cannot stay on land without the guarantee of her death. ❞
❝ yes, but her heart belongs here. ❞
↳ gandalf the grey to queen marella
╔═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══╗
she belonged...
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VERA ADELAIDE SLEPT LIKE A BABY after Èowyn left her chambers to leave her alone.
The shieldmaiden of Rohan had willingly followed Gandalf's orders in bringing a dazed and half-asleep Vera to her bed chambers, carefully leading her towards the narrow hallways and the room at the end of the corridor. Her own chamber is just a few doors away, and if something happened from within those walls, Èowyn would be the first to know. After essentially dragging Vera to the room, Èowyn had attempted to plop the mermaid onto the soft sheets of the large bed. She removed her shoes as slowly as she could in order to keep her asleep, and tried removing her robes to slip an underdress on but had been unsuccessful. She thought about her options for a moment, but after seeing the calm and relaxed expression on her visage, the cousin decided not to disturb her any further.
Her chambers were quiescent, her breathing is the only thing being echoed inside. There are candles enlightened on her dresser, emanating some sort of light throughout the dim chambers. The fires of the shadow illuminate onto Vera's sleeping visage, making her appear more innocent. The moon that had previously been shining onto the mermaid and her companion before the incident vanishes behind the grey clouds that start to arrive under the horrid pretenses of the night, and soon after, the stars begin to fade, too. There is not a shred of moonlight luminesce found in her quarters, only making her bedroom warmer. Vera may have been in a blissful state of composure but the somber mood in her room is almost tangible and is heavily weighted.
And the morning arrived all too soon.
Vera awakens menially to the rays of sunlight hitting her concealed eyes, slowly peeling her from her unconscious state and to a more mindful manner. She sluggishly forces her bleary eyes open, her body turned to face the lucid windows in her chambers as the sun rays shot straight at her uncharitably. Half-grumbling and half-smiling, Vera casually starts to regain as much strength as she can before peeling the blankets off her body. She didn't remember being brought back to bed — in fact, Vera barely recalled anything that happened the night before. All she could remember is her time with Legolas, which brought an automatic smile to her face, and the amount of alcohol she drank during the prolonged celebration, which is probably the reason why she couldn't remember anything through her deteriorating headache.
She stands from her bed, reluctantly leaving the solace of the berth as she approaches the window locomotively. Her eyes scoured the plains in front of her indulgently, liking the view before her as it magically eased the ache in her head and the disfigured vision. She could focus on the colors, and the beauty of the sky, and she could even see the faraway hut planted onto the farthest range, reminding her of what had happened long before. She grimaces. The yellows and blues and oranges blending effortlessly in the sky reflected onto Vera's warm, hazel eyes. The mermaid stands in front of the window for a longer time than she intended, noting that the sun seemed to have just risen up; she had awoken early, which is surprising. She had been drunk off her ass.
