Aug 05, 2009 16:34
[The bright sun's beating down, making Chaera's red hair shine like something on fire. She's still wearing the leggings and mail of her armor, but her top is simple, homespun cotton, soaked through with sweat. The leather is draped over the side of a fence, and she's in the process of hanging up the chainmail over the side of a tree branch.
The camera wavers a little, and she holds out a hand towards the carefully arranged mail, whispering a few words under her breath. A hard concussion of air slams into the mail, making it ring like a chime and the branch creak and groan with the strain. The air explodes with dust and sand as the grit vacates the metal.]
And there we are. My, I forgot how strong it is without the spell failure.
[A sweet little smile turns her lips, and she hums as she takes the mail down from the branch, putting it away in her pack. She frowns, shaking it a few times when it doesn't seem to want to go in, and a great clanking and clamor comes from inside the simple leather bag, like a suit of armor falling into a bookshelf and spilling its contents. A horrified expression sweeps over her face, and she checks inside.]
Hells, that'll take me days to organize again...
homemade bag of holding fail,
*event: it's getting hot in here,
sandstorms + chainmail = fffffff