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i. leitarvél ii. finder in iclandic iii. female iv.
twenty-four years of age
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│└─────────────────┘ Leitarvél is a no-nonsense person, and thus isn't too keen to deal with people
when they act up, so she almost always tries to correct them. And when she
tries to correct them, they typically get very fussy, defensive, and rude.
She's a loner due to this, typically staying under the radar, watching from
the shadows. She's happy to give people advice and help them, but not
everybody wants help or advice. She's been raised to be compassionate
and helpful, and it reflects on her. After looking up to many fictional heroes,
each one showing compassion, leadership, and a calm aura are good traits to
have, she strives for those, and now it is a key part of her character. If someone
asks for help, she will readily give her all to see that they are happy. She's
determined to help others, her butterfly effect of kindness her greatest goal. x
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x( how i was lost )
She watered her plants, finally home in her tiny house from a long day at work. Clipping off a dead leaf, she studied the smallest one, noting how it would need to be transferred into a bigger pot soon, already outgrowing the pot it was in. She'd made a mental note to pick up another pot from the small shed, and put the watering can back in it's place. Trudging out to the shed, she shivered from the sudden bitter wind, and hurried into the small room. Picking up a suitable pot after a minute of searching, and noticed her bow lying sullenly on the wall. Maybe she could go hunting...? She would go after the transferred the plant, and got into some decent clothes. Mind made up, she grabbed her bow and arrows, small pot in the crook of her arm as she raced back into the small house.
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A breath left her lips before she flopped onto the couch, closing her eyes, tired from school. The tv hummed in the background, some ad about always treating people right drawling on. A 'hmm' rumbled in her throat. It was true, always treat others right. However, before she could actually sleep, her grandfather stepped into the room and said something about getting up and learning how to use a bow. Leitarvél groaned, but followed.
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“Afffffiiiiiiii! This is boring, why do I have to learn how to hunt?” Her grandpa smiled at her, still
following the barely visible tracks in front of her. “I know it is boring, but hunting could help you if you were in a pickle. If all the food in the grocery store went bad and we all had to wait a week for more food, we’d end up starving. So that is why I’m teaching you to hunt.” She pouted at her grandpa, miffed at having to get up.
After hours of practicing she aimed at the target, second last arrow stretched tight from the bow in her hand. She let it fly under the stern gaze of her grandpa. It hit just an inch away from the bullseye, and she readied her final arrow. Her grandpa hadn't said anything yet, and Leitarvél knew he was either pleased or angry. Hopefully not angry, but her grandpa being pleased wasn't always a pleasant thing to experience. Leitarvél let go of the arrow, and grinned as it hit dead center. She turned to see her grandpa smiling at her, and ran over, smiling herself.
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It's quite a cold winter this year, Leitarvél thought as she fastened her bow around her chest. Her eyes flicked across the forest, an unusual nervousness swirling in her stomach. With a deep exhale she headed off into the forest as the wind had picked up, snow slowly falling.

