(no subject)

[lostpoetry]

WHO: Sofia Sartor
WHERE: Fountain (locked), various locations (OTA)
WHEN: February 19
OPEN TO: Ezio, OTA
WARNINGS: (Please warn for adult content or anything triggering)

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Swimming had never been her thing. Doing anything to keep afloat, that she could do; doggy paddle, swimming like a frog, attempting a breast stroke, that had been it. But being fully submerged, several feet from the surface glistening overhead, it was a struggle. Already she’d felt like the air had been choked out of her, now this.

Through the sway of dark red hair, a hand was outstretched; if she reached as hard as she could, maybe she could grab onto something, anything. Her fingers strained, splayed, reaching and reaching and reaching. The ache in her chest was like an unbearable pressure sitting there, lingering, an uncomfortable presence. All Sofia wanted was to be able to breathe. She was unaware of the fact that she wasn’t alone in the deep body of water, too focused on kicking her legs, flailing her arms trying to get closer and closer to the surface, which was thankfully happening. It just took... time.

How did she get from being strung to a tree to nearly drowning? She’d been kidnapped the one time, what did this mean?

With her feet finally on the ground, air in her lungs, no longer a coarse noose around her neck, Sofia has time to properly go around and take in her surroundings. She had no proper hair fasteners here, all she could do with her long dark red hair was compose it into a French braid to let it hang over her chest. Her first stop would be The Inn where she can be found mostly seated alone enjoying a meal and observing others curiously or seated by the fireplace with a book in her lap, staring off while she keeps the page marked with her pinky.

If Sofia isn’t in the Inn then she’s in the library making friends with the books, either seen leaving with an armful of them or she’s walking along the shelves, fingers brushing the spines as if the touch alone can tell her their story. The Storehouse and the Butcher, Baker, and the Blacksmith, she’s curious about it all, either passing by to get a look, mentally keeping track of their locations and how far she has to travel from the house (#7) she’s taken as her own, or she’s approaching to see who might be there and in charge, knocking or calling a greeting.