Guin leaned her hands against the balcony, stretching her back to push her stomach against the cold marble as she smelled the wind. It blew past her face with a melodic sound, and smelled like burning roses in the Ashen Wastes. At that, she leaned back, putting the whole of her foot on the ground and turning towards the interior of her father's castle. She pulled at the rug-robe mixture that was hanging on her shoulders, patterned in a Tiager-style of roaming circles, and frowned.
I have a conference at some point this afternoon. And the chances of anything coming out of that are quite slim. Let's be honest, who wants to be in Mysteria at this point? There's no use... "I don't think we can actually win this war." She looked around her sheepishly, not meaning to have said that out loud, and hurried inside the castle. Warmth spread over her with the light of several candles, and Guin started to pick her way through the winding halls.