TRANSCENDENCE 16

Months pass and Savannah grows silent. She keeps her head down, no longer looking for trouble - or troublemakers to join. Instead, she disappears. The public eye barely gets the pleasure of seeing her for a matter of weeks, months, even.

And, holed up in her selective alley in Nostvale, she studies. She works. The far wall of the dead end has slowly been covered with books, leather bindings replacing the brick and mortor of some old hub.

She reads them all, devouring the information like sustinance. They're her lifeblood, and the words of the authors live through her like some tunnel through time.

She's determined.
(Savannah)
OOC - Hendragon: anyone selling masks?
OOC - Straif: wtf
She practices. Time bends at her fingertips, and slowly, it begins to come naturally. The training is intensive - her own blood spatters the alleyways where she had pushed herself an inch too far. Her nosebleeds were common, but she dared not to push past them. They were a warning sign from her body:

she was working too hard.

She feared death instictually, and this was her way of running from it. She tried desperately to deny fate, to avoid the inevitable. It had been a cruel master to her thus far, and even now, destiny seemed to tease her.

She was growing up. She had wasted her childhood, Savannah came to realize. Her ankles ached and her legs grew longer, her short stumpiness evening out to a mediocre 5'3.

She began to avoid mirrors. She knew that she was changing, and it was scary. The unfamiliar, uncharted territory of maturity was something she ran from even more than destiny, but it was creeping up on her.

So she distracted herself.
(Savannah)