Singing in the Shallows (open)

A warm breeze blew over the sapphire blue lake, gently rippling its surface. The wind carried the scents of honey and mint. Carried along on the wind was a voice. A sweet melodic voice. The voice enacted from a nymph on the pebbly shore, her bronze skin dark against the grey and white stones. The water lapped soothingly at her knees as she bent down to collect water into a pottery basin. Her pink lips her open as she vocalized. The ends of her mouth were slightly turned up in a ghost of a smile. Her hazel eyes were warm and bright. Water flooded in the vessel as its lip dipped into the clear water. The nymph stood with the jug under her arm, with that she hummed her way off the shore and into the forest, the bushes gently feathering her bare calves. Tsinga weaved around weeping birch trees, leaping over stumps-never spilling a drop of precious life giving water-and ducking under low hanging branches.

The pretty humanoid arrived at her hut, a simple dwelling made from reeds and sticks woven together with wild grasses. Tsinga ventured inside, her bare feet padding silently on the dirt floor. The nymph set the water-filled vessel on a wooden stand. Sighing -for virtually no reason- Tsinga did an intractate dance with her hands, her fingers flying. A layer of stone pushed itself up through the earth below to create a smooth stone pallet. Tsinga sighed again and collapsed onto her bed. She stared up at the roof of her hit, overlapping deep purple leaves, creating a light, waterproof covering.