Hunting (Ginta and whoever else wants to come)
Ali waits for Ginta near the portal to their (soon to be) hunting grounds, dressed in faded jeans and a worn-in leather jacket, care-faced but no less lovely for that. The portal is one of those loosely-defined ones, a gradual blending of one place to the next marked by wide tunnel only a few steps in length. On the other side a sunny day awaits them, a day full of fresh spring scents and birdsongs.
Leaning against a nearby wall, her hands stroke rhythmically over the curves of her bow. Her camping supplies are on the ground around her feet, and a quick glance would reveal she's quite prepared. She looks up from time to time, looking for Ginta or tucking a stray bit of hair back into her braid.
Leaning against a nearby wall, her hands stroke rhythmically over the curves of her bow. Her camping supplies are on the ground around her feet, and a quick glance would reveal she's quite prepared. She looks up from time to time, looking for Ginta or tucking a stray bit of hair back into her braid.