#oc: incantatum

[nekrokatart]

babygirl got a fresh cut and a new tattoo 🥹

[dameracrystmon]

Happy Birthday @nekrokatart \(^o^)/ 🎂💜💜💜 Incantatum character, beautiful druid~

[nekrokatart]

After many war, and peaceful events, after many victories, losses, struggles and mundane things, Incantatum decided to visit home, with the old pine tree near Starfall Village. She was hoping to see it, in its defiant solitude, with it's coarse but beloved bark on its side. She had a lot of memories to share, many stories to tell.

She transformed in her owl form to fly across the skies of Hyjal, gliding hastily to her homeland, Winterspring. The smell of the hot springs with the mixed herbs is unforgettable, and soon she started to see the geysers and the snowy cliffs of her childhood. She was chirping excitedly.

Arriving to the Frostfire hot springs, she doffed all her armor to immerse herself in the sweet sweet spice scented hot spring.

"I could be a fish, to look the skies from here every night" - said it out loud, while her skin started sparkling just like she had scales - then it stopped.

"I could be a squirrel, to roam around with carefree curiosity all day" - she continued, shook her head happily, and her hair curled upwards, changing colors slightly.

"I could be an owl, fly high the pine forests and protect the spirits from harm" - said, while ink streamed from her body, coloring the water pitch black.

"Or you could just... be yourself again." - said a familiar voice.

Natheril Raincaller, her father looked at her curiously with a gentle smile, coming from the village.

Inca requited this smile with the widest, happiest grin. "FATHER! You're here!"

"Indeed I am, and so is your old friend, Lady Petal" - Natheril looked at the barn owl on the tree - "I see you left behind the tiring memories you had in these past few years. It's been a while, owlette. Let's go home."

"Can we visit the old tree first? We have something to talk about."

"Yes we can. He's waiting for you too."

She greeted the peaceful, silent happiness on their walk home.

Soundless and joyful, as the snowy hills of Winterspring

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