Ginevra

At the edge of the Sunbeam Ruins, atop the coastline which looks down over the Viridian Labyrinth, there is a vineyard.

Neatly ordered rows of seaberries grow there, spiraling up trellises. During the harvest season their tart scent hangs sweetly in the air. Bright blue clusters of berries are nestled among prickly green leaves, their colours vibrant.

A quaint little villa sits behind the the vineyard. Its bricks are faded and weather-worn, but full of homely beauty. Flowerboxes sit beneath the window, luring a few bees away from the seaberries; a trailing vine grows over the arched doorway.

Behind the villa, the cliff drops off to the coast. On this side of the house lies the kitchen door, which is always open in summer. A fresh loaf of bread sits cooling on the windowsill. Its smell mingles with the herbs hanging to dry from the rafters.

And in an old, rickety rocking chair, there sits an Obelisk.

A chalice of seaberry wine rests on the table beside her. A worn book and a pair of spectacles sit beside it. On her lap are two cats, spoiled and well-fed, purring contentedly.

She sits there, rocking gently. Her paws are stained by a blue tint - the evidence of years of seaberry stomping. A simple sunhat protects her from the sun's rays. Her eyes are as bright a blue as the berries which are her life's work.

Ginevra sips her wine, and smiles, and watches the sun set.