New year, new faces, new things to count.

[bruma]

((Hello, all! This is my first summary, so please forgive any format, continuity, or etiquette errors, please note them and I'll edit to correct))

Bruma stretched and cracked her neck near to the fire in the Great Hall as her muscles relaxed in the heat. In the winter chill her woolen shawl was fighting against the weather to keep her warm, and it was becoming an unconscious, permanent action to keep her shoulders shrugged close to her body. It made her feel warmer, yes, but did nothing to help her personal comfort when she allowed herself to take up more space as she relaxed.
However, Bruma also realized that cracking stiff joints and taking up a large amount of space, however momentary and unladylike, was very impolite in the presence of her Highness, Queen Edfeil, currently sitting across from her, the fire glinting off the gold netting about her head..
Bruma caught herself mid stretch and stood to curtsy low before her Majesty, clearing her throat in embarrassment while murmuring apologies.

They had spoken of the news from away, in Camelot, where murder most foul happened to fall on the very night of the coronation there. Bruma was not one to be the first ear to hear such word, nor to revel in mysterious questions of who had misguided who, but news was nonetheless news for her, and Bruma felt a little relieved to now understand her Majesty a little more. Queen Edfeil was the Queen, after all, but Bruma was slowly learning the concept of a ruler also being as human as much as Bruma, herself, was.

What had originally spurred such conversation was the topic of the harvest, and how an inventory was being planned in order to send any surplus goods to Camelot; after all, they had done in kind when war befell Windstorm. Bruma had offered to help in the process (however daunting the task, she reminded herself), and the topic had changed to the question of the still room and the lack of a healer for Windstorm at the moment.

So this was where thoughts had turned at the moment, and Bruma, after she sat down once more, and reminded herself that one does not crack their knuckles in the presence of royalty, continued to think next to the fire.

[Dream Loxley]

(( Hello and welcome! Wonderful to see you and looking forward to reading more and hopefully playing sometime in the room. Welcome to Windstorm))

[bruma]

(( Thanks! I hope to be on more often than I was previous, but I can't make any promises with school starting))

The next evening passed with Bruma feeling very much like a girl younger than she expected, and all because of the subject she had never expected herself to feel too strongly about: romance.
Now, romance is romance, she had found, but this one involved Her Majesty Queen Edfeil.
It was not expected to see a woman of such high standing - well, anyone of such high standing- to be nigh on giddy when speaking of the object of their affection, but Bruma tried to react without too much of what could best be called 'shock'.

It had started with embroidery. She was not one for the needle herself, although it was clearly an artform she respected - to imagine just how many lengths of thread and silk went in to creating the images that hung on Windstorm's walls was something she could not gather just yet. Her Majesty had been sitting in the great hall with a hoop in her hand, and a wistful look in her eye- later Bruma would learn Queen Edfeil would by attempting to take her mind off of certain subjects - and not a stich gained.
She sat down near to the fire, and after some talk, Bruma found the true cause of such wistfulness - Prince Sighehelm.
The name was not strange to her, but recalling an image in her head was, and as Her Highness informed her (with some giggling and much the same air as a young girl over her beau, but all in a very regal tone, of course), Bruma made a very strong mental note to look upon him just as highly.

Ah, and of course, there was that small subject where Bruma had agreed to read over the notes the former healers of Windstorm had written. She had considered it from the moment Her Majesty had spoken of sorting the still room, and finally, she had made her decision. It would be an interesting time for her, she thought, knowing the best knowledge she had regarding healing was 'if it bleeds, stop it', and even then she was not entirely sure that applied to all cases. The best goal she could set for herself was to finish reading the notes, and work her way on from there.