Watching her was beautiful. Leaning over a basin, hands dipping and dropping, the water splashing lightly off her crest and shoulders. Her eyes were closed as the salt water rolled in lazy streams down her body, dripping to the woven mat below. Some followed the tattoos along her back and sides. The sun pierced through the open portal to the beach outside, early mornings always. A stiff brush worked in stilted lines, her mother had always kept a habit for how to wash. From the small bowl on the night stand she could smell Itaren flowers, their delicate petals already wilting. She sat quiet and small as she could, she just wanted to stay here forever with the sound of waves and the smell of flowers and the sight of her hale mother setting about a mundane task. Her mother tilted her head with a warm smile as she beckoned. Come here Little Wing, I will help you.