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Description
I could hear Áine approaching through the meadow; her bare feet made no sound, but her long dress rustled gently in the tall grass. She seemed to be in no hurry, but neither was I. The warmth of the rock was easing the ache I felt in my legs.

“I think I overdid it.” I said, once I felt her take a seat next to me.

“I wondered where you had gotten to. You must be feeling better to have walked this far.”

“I don’t know about better, but I had more energy today, certainly.” Today? The days seemed to blend together since I first woke, and I could not clearly mark their beginning or their end. We sat in silence, watching the wind play with the daisies and the tiny birds frolicking in the field. “It all feels like an endless waking dream,” I finally said, “a pleasant summer holiday.”

Her response was soft, but careful, as though she considered the words cautiously. “I am happy that you are feeling better. I am curious however: where is it that you think you are?”

It was an unexpected question and I gave it some consideration before answering. I had not once seen an airplane overhead, or heard cars. We were isolated in a way that felt unreal. “I don’t honestly know. There aren’t too many untouched places like this in the world anymore. Given your accent I was guessing maybe… Ireland?” It was strange to remember that a place existed, and to know what it might look like, but not know precisely where that knowledge came from. Like a postcard without a return address.

The silence returned was disconcerting, but I could sense she was preparing to respond. “No, we are not on the Isle of Éire.” She turned away and looked towards the rolling hills, although her gaze seemed focused inward. “I’ve been there though, long ago.”

The Isle of Éire? What an odd turn of phrase. And long ago? She can’t be much past twenty. My thoughts felt jumbled and I blurted out, “Isle of Man perhaps?”

She returned my gaze and her expression softened, her hazel eyes seeming to change to green in the bright sun. “This is a place beyond the veil, Daigdán. You are one of the few of your kind who’ve passed living through it. We are in Tír na nÓg.”

***

Some more world and scene building as I work through story elements. I have not decided yet how I am going to tell this story, but I plan to actually script it out before starting too deep into it. Expect more of these vignettes into scenes as I go.

Áine's hair has been swapped out; the original object was far too heavy in terms of verts and was not renderable with other characters in the shot. This is a placeholder, but will probably appear in other renders while I find a suitable replacement.

Description
I could hear Áine approaching through the meadow; her bare feet made no sound, but her long dress rustled gently in the tall grass. She seemed to be in no hurry, but neither was I. The warmth of the rock was easing the ache I felt in my legs.

“I think I overdid it.” I said, once I felt her take a seat next to me.

“I wondered where you had gotten to. You must be feeling better to have walked this far.”

“I don’t know about better, but I had more energy today, certainly.” Today? The days seemed to blend together since I first woke, and I could not clearly mark their beginning or their end. We sat in silence, watching the wind play with the daisies and the tiny birds frolicking in the field. “It all feels like an endless waking dream,” I finally said, “a pleasant summer holiday.”

Her response was soft, but careful, as though she considered the words cautiously. “I am happy that you are feeling better. I am curious however: where is it that you think you are?”

It was an unexpected question and I gave it some consideration before answering. I had not once seen an airplane overhead, or heard cars. We were isolated in a way that felt unreal. “I don’t honestly know. There aren’t too many untouched places like this in the world anymore. Given your accent I was guessing maybe… Ireland?” It was strange to remember that a place existed, and to know what it might look like, but not know precisely where that knowledge came from. Like a postcard without a return address.

The silence returned was disconcerting, but I could sense she was preparing to respond. “No, we are not on the Isle of Éire.” She turned away and looked towards the rolling hills, although her gaze seemed focused inward. “I’ve been there though, long ago.”

The Isle of Éire? What an odd turn of phrase. And long ago? She can’t be much past twenty. My thoughts felt jumbled and I blurted out, “Isle of Man perhaps?”

She returned my gaze and her expression softened, her hazel eyes seeming to change to green in the bright sun. “This is a place beyond the veil, Daigdán. You are one of the few of your kind who’ve passed living through it. We are in Tír na nÓg.”

***

Some more world and scene building as I work through story elements. I have not decided yet how I am going to tell this story, but I plan to actually script it out before starting too deep into it. Expect more of these vignettes into scenes as I go.

Áine's hair has been swapped out; the original object was far too heavy in terms of verts and was not renderable with other characters in the shot. This is a placeholder, but will probably appear in other renders while I find a suitable replacement.