[The hunt is announced, and Alia signs up, welcoming the exercise, welcoming the burn of her muscles and lungs from running, welcoming the crisp air and gently greening forest, a boon at last after so many, many dark months. Perhaps she shall find her solace there, out in the thawing earth, amongst the birds and beetles, as she had in the summertime – especially now, in these days, after the bitter nightmares and the silence and the disappearance of a mother Alia still will not allow herself to mourn. She picks her mask – the round-eared, sharp-toothed face of a mink or weasel, the sort of lean, clever creature that would thrive in the dunes of her homeworld, slinking lightfooted enough that not even Shai-Hulud would feel her hunting.

Or, being hunted, apparently – to Alia’s amusement, she’s stripped naked, her long hair a shining gold braid down her spine, her body sunkissed even after the long winter, and she’s told that she will receive a head start, to make things fair. The other prey leap forward immediately upon receiving the signal, but Alia lingers at the edge of the forest, turns back to give the hunters a long, searching look over her shoulder, spice-bright eyes fixed on each one in turn.

Beneath the mask, she smiles with all her teeth before slipping into the green shadows of the woods, silent as a desert wind, sleek as water, melting into the shifting, verdant dapples of sunlight like she had never been there. It isn’t until a hunter comes close (close enough to smell, close enough to taste) that Alia pokes her head out from behind a tree, still smiling.]

Come on, you’ll have to do better than that if you want to catch me. [Chiding, teasing, lingering just long enough for her scent, like sweat and sand and spice, like salt on the howling desert wind, to entangle the hunter, before she’s off, running light-footed and fleet as a gazelle, as a spirit, as Muad’Dib fleeing for his life before the desert hawks.]

[When the hunt has ended, Alia retreats to the lakeside, lean, golden body streaked with sweat and grime, long hair coming free of her braid. She settles in the soft, thawing mud by the water’s edge and, after a quiet pause, slips her bare feet into the cool water, letting out a soft exhale and closing her eyes. Her expression doesn’t change, solemn and unreadable as ever, but there’s a gentleness to how she reaches up and begins undoing her long braid, working the blonde strands free to cascade down her back, nearly to her waist.

To any who know Alia well, her slight smile is indicative of her inner calm, her peacefulness at being back by the lakeside – forbidden by ice and snow for so, so many months, haunted by cruel ghosts (Jace beneath the water’s surface, Alicent thirsting and snarling and clawing at the ice until her fingers bled) and frost spirits. None of those are present now, in the first blush of spring, in the soft sounds of the forest and lakeside creatures slowly coming back to life.

It’s one of these creatures that Alia finds, rising to wade in the shin-deep water, ignoring the flowers and scented oils for a moment, in favor of crouching naked amongst the reeds and rushes and reaching into the silty, black mud. Her delicate hands scoop up a handful, cradled tenderly, lovingly, and after a moment two tiny dark eyes poke out of the blob of mud, peering upwards with amphibian solemnity.

Alia smiles at last, warm and fond and bright as a thousand suns.] Good morning. Welcome back, little friend. [Catching eyes on her, she turns slightly, peering through her curtain of hair at someone on the bank. Her nose scrunches, teeth still bared in her uncanny grin.] They were sleeping, all winter long, deep in the mud. I’ve missed them.

[ooc: none of these grab you? feel free to wildcard your character running into alia at the fire or in the woods – or hit me up at ceedawkes with any other ideas! blanket permission for f/m, f/f, f/any for any smutty prompts~]