SUMMER

Angkar: Wet season. Precipitation is common during the late afternoon and evening hours. Vegetation grows significantly during the summer, but flooding is a danger due to the monsoons that ravage the country. The rainforest sees evenly distributed rainfall throughout the season.

Ashoka: Desert: Extremely hot and dry. Violent, heavy downpours following long dryspells. Jungle: Hot and humid with frequent, violent rainstorms.

Morrim: Relatively hot and dry, but with a chance of thunderstorms from time to time. The heat may cause forest fires.

Soto: Hot and humid, tree cover is dense while ground growth is restricted. Thunderstorms see the most amount of rainfall during the season, and it can be very windy. On occasion, there are flash floods that can destroy homes and farms built on flood plains.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

March 30th, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has changed hands and is now under new management! If you have any questions, please direct them to DaringRaven! As for the rest of the announcements, including a season change, you can find them over here at the following link!

January 16, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has a new skin, all thanks to Mel! Don't forget to check out the new OTMs as well!

December 2, 2017 Winter has settled on Elenlond, bringing sleep for some and new life for others.

September 26, 2017 With the belated arrival of autumn come some interesting developments: new OTMs, a Town Crier and the release of the Elly Awards winners!

July 14, 2017 After a bit of forum clean-up, Elly Awards season has arrived! Head on over to make your nominations!

May 31, 2017 Summer has arrived and so has activity check! That's not all though – we also have some new OTMs for you and some staff changes!


WHAT IS ELENLOND?

Elenlond is an original free-form medieval fantasy RPG set on the continent of Soare and the Scattered Isles, which are located to the south in the Sea of Diverging Waters. The four chief nations of the western side of the world—Ashoka in northern Soare, Soto in western Soare, Morrim in eastern Soare, and Angkar, the largest of the Scattered Isles—continue to experience growth and prosperity since the fall of the Mianorite gods, although power struggles within the countries—or outside of them—continue to ensue.


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    Angkar: To honour the reinvigoration of the ancient city of Mondrágon, the majestic Queen Eulalia has permitted the opening of a Coliseum where people from around the world and all walks of life can test their combat skills against one another. Many have already done battle in search of honour, glory, prizes and money.

    Ashoka: In an otherwise peaceful times, Ashokans are beset with the relatively minor inconveniences of wandering undead and occasionally-aggressive giant rock worms. There has also been some controversy over the recent re-legalisation of human sacrifice.

    Morrim: Rumour has it that Emperor Leofric de Hollemark is mustering forces for a war. Though the threat from Soto’s forests has passed, the forces previously employed in watching the forest now linger at the border. Rumours also circulate of a small group that has been dispatched to make contact with the tribes of the Do’suul Mountains.

    Soto: The Sotoans have defeated the fey and liberated themselves from Méadaigh’s oppression! Preliminary efforts have been made at rebuilding the city of Madrid, which had been captured at the beginning of the war. However, the Sotoans are hindered from recovery famine. Méadaigh’s magic caused summer to persist in the Erth’netora Forest through the winter. Her power has been withdrawn and the plants die as if preparing for winter – even though it is now summer. The Sotoans must sustain off what food they can get, what creatures they can kill and what can be imported into the city from Morrim and Angkar.

    For a fuller description of our most recent events, check out our most recent edition of The Town Crier!

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    Elenlond is an original medieval fantasy RPG with a world that's as broad as it is unique. Calling on characters of all kinds, the sky's the limit in a world where boundaries are blurred and the imagination runs rampant. Restrictions are limited and members are encouraged to embrace their creativity, to see where they can go and what they can do. It's no longer just text on a page - it becomes real.

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    Shivering Heart; -Open-
    Topic Started: Apr 17 2014, 05:26 PM (519 Views)
    Galena
    Member Avatar
    Thy sins, paid in blood...

    The child was too much.

    Her serene composure lay shattered on the grass where she sat, digging bare toes into the damp earth, fingers plucking at the cold brown stalks still stubbornly clinging to life despite the many frosts that had fallen on her garden. It never mattered, and the gods took them as they chose, rarely deigning to leave any answers to the mortals. She'd prayed and done everything she possibly could, even stooping to using her magic, twisting her shape, brittle brown branches pushing through her skin and warping it. Leaves and moss had crawled from her scalp, and though they'd recoiled, they'd kept their silence. The hope in their eyes with each renewed effort nearly killed her alone, leaving her aching and empty, exhausted each time they left.

    She had given up asking the gods for anything long ago. There had been no answers when her husband had disappeared, for all her diligence and faithfulness. And so she'd thrown up her stone walls around herself, piling stone on stone to keep her heart safe and whole yet behind them. How could she do anything less when she had such a profession? People died, and that was that, said her sensible logic, but it did nothing to abate her shame and defeat.
    And she'd taken it to them personally, with her quiet tones and almost cold demeanor. To give the task of telling the parents to someone else would have been more shame than she could bear. It almost was now, with the woman crumpling too small, supported by her husband who only nodded like he understood with empty eyes, and a silent accusing gaze.
    How many times had she borne that look stoically? Yet it was never quite the same when a child was taken from their family, leaving them not a family but a couple, childless and in possession of a cold empty shell and possibly ruined financially. And she said nothing of comfort to them, nothing of sympathy. Some wished for it, some did not, but it was not something that Galena felt she could give. She had lost children herself, her own, and had since given up. It was hard enough to lose your own unborn child, but to spend months tending to another's only to lose them as well...it seemed too cruel to imagine.

    The tiny woman sagged, folding in on herself, tucking her chin and resting her forehead on her knees as the sob drew itself unwillingly from the bottom of her chest, wriggling fitfully and quaking her shoulders as it struggled from her chest. No, she was not without emotion yet. She had altogether too much of it, and often wondered if she shouldn't simply give up the effort of tending to the sick. It would not protect her any from what she'd already endured though, and it was what she wished to do. Some days were just harder than others. She knew that...

    Only when the sobbing abated, leaving not the hollow relief but a tightness that bespoke yet a mountain of unshed tears firmly bottled, did she turn her head and brush away the stray locks of pale hair that had fallen across her visage.
    The earth was whispering to her frantically. The Sentry Pines, the great wandering trees that shuffled slowly on the edges of the large, walled garden were disquieted. Someone was trespassing on her land, and they weren't being very quiet about it either.
    Galena couldn't begin to imagine what they would want with anything in her house, if they had come to rob her. It was not the grand estate that was held in her family name still awaiting to fall into her hands that had formerly belonged to her defamed uncle. It was somewhat larger than a cottage, and similarly equipped, situated on the outskirts of Madrid where she could let her garden dominate her free time. Homely, was a more apt word. It was above all, comfortable, and she shared it with a single maid that attended to it when she was not there, which was much of the time now.

    Clumsily the dryad got to her feet, collected her sandals and began brushing stray grass stalks from her stola, deep burgundy in colour, the palla she clutched about her shoulders plain frosty white and embroidered with birds in flight in grey. It helped ward off the cold today at least, but for that seeping through the soles of her feet, and allowed her to scrub a corner at her tearstained cheeks.
    Whoever it was had just stepped in a patch of mint and then fallen into one of her lavender bushes. They were protesting enough that she started that way, ducking under the low branches of a fur and heading into the trees.
    "Hello? Is someone there?"
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    Etherone
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    // Ze rare sight of an attire. //

    Was moderately silent, the dry branches above creaking in tune with the steady breeze. Amidst frozen trees he stood, almost as still as the Nature around him that hibernated. Clenched into his gentle grip were the reins of Oska, its lead coat having a tint of silver in the blurred light of Winter, ashen mane shivering as its weight shifted anxiously back and forth. Patience, friend. The free hand reached to give the top of his head a stroke, brushing the wavering strands of hay from disturbing that which inclined to face the Skies, eyes closed, in search of someone.

    He inhaled. Concentrate.

    No. Nothin'. Chasin' them chicks again, are we?

    A cloud of mist released in a sharp exhale, the cerulean opening in slight disappointment. Was the usual of course, for that owl had been gone since the first rays of yesterday. A bit peculiar, for it mostly showed at least once a day, but maybe it had found some nice female and hit it off real good. No way he was going to be interrupting that. Nope, Moln was his favourite wingman after all. Hah... Wingman....

    He chuckled and gave Oska a glance, meeting its dark stare in a faint smile. Why so moody? Is a great day to be had. The horse answered with a neigh and he pat it sturdily on the neck in attempted encouragement. In a tug he resumed his stride forward, the thin layer of snow overlaying the forest floor and tracing the steps of the man and his ride. The clip clop of heavy hooves was accompanied by an even clink, reaching from the axe that hung from a loop of metal on his belt, carefully grinded blade shining in announcement of its excistence. Strapped to his back was Argsint's companion, Berg, that which protected in contrary to the other. The circular shield rested on his dark cloak that licked his calves, the fur lining tickling the back of his neck when his head turned in constant observance. Would be unfortunate to get attacked by a wild animal. Since it was mostly the other way around. They can't surprise you if you do it to them first, was his honest philosophy. If it could have been called with such a term, since he wasn't too gifted on the fields of thinking.

    Etherone had always liked the cold and barren lands, the type of climate and weather Soto had this time of the year, for against common beliefs and opinions, he liked wearing clothes once in a while. To that, the Winter was a just enough of a While per year, since he didn't mind the lack of garments either. His surrounding often disagreed with his choice of attire during the summers though, called him uncivil and savage and all that in the cities. Some had a huge problem with him walking about chest bare. Those shrieking noblewomen should have been thankful for being able to shed a glimpse on his magnificent innate features, for he had come to assume their husbands had not even a fraction of the sort. Or maybe they were yelling out of pure Joy over what they witnessed, something he liked to think about and chuckle at over a campfire.

    For the past few days he had been walking, not aimlessly since he did have a direction. Forward. He was never lost because he really had no place to return to, which was quite sad and merry at the same time. Thus why he never had a map, being ultimately stubborn about it even. No way he was going to let a damn piece of paper tell him where he was, rather saw it himself. Today it seemed he was not going to be blessed with such information as that of location however, since Moln had gone missing. Or more like doing whatever it was birds did when you weren't looking. Like... Drifted about in the air and sat in a tree, staring with the unblinking eyes. Or maybe they just dispersed. Moln was a ladies' man though, if he had raised it well enough, thus it must have been chatting up them owl women.

    After a bit of a walk, a wall loomed in the distance. A moderately tall one, was it... Seven feet? Without hesitation he directed his stride to the root of it, staring up whilst stroking his beard in process of something that could have been considered ponder. He looked left and right, weighing his options, then back at the stone that was obviously taunting him. How unfortunate for it to be in his way that had gone so smoothly until now, for he predicted it might get rough now. For the wall, that is. Boundaries like this were often made to protect things, guard that which was meant to be out of reach. Unlike most, Eth was not turned down by an obstacle such as a puny stone wall, one could have considered them attracting him even. What was it that it sealed, he noticed himself musing. What was it They tried to keep Him away from? Since there was none to provide him with an answer, nor a door to be knocked on in sight and range of few feet, there was only one practical solution.

    Must. Investigate.

    So. As the nimble and skillful acrobat he was, Etherone rolled up the sleeves of his loose tunic of dark indigo and adjusted his other garments. Meaning took off his cloak and shield. No way he was going to climb a sodding wall with those attached, the axe would have to do as his protection for this explorement. As his next heroic deed he dragged Oska to stand next to the wall, then swinging himself to its back and peeking over the wall like some assassin. This particular assassin was not of the masterful and stealthy kind however, for when he climbed the peak, his sincere attempt to sit atop it, he slipped. And down he went, falling with the grace of a rock that on the way turned into a starfish that landed into a questionable bush. It stung. Ouch? Etherone was not one to yell out in pain, thus why he only let out a grunt, his hands flapping about his body wildly in search of an injury. A sigh of relief. All intact. He straightened up into seating and looked about, picking out the thorned twigs that poked out of his blonde hair whilst trying to make up where he had arrived.

    Looked like... The same as the outside. Trees and... Other vegetation. Maybe a bit out of the ordinary, all neat and such, but he was not one to know too much about the art of gardening. To him the climb had just become a waste of time. He spotted his axe in the distance, it having fallen from his belt upon collision. Well, at least it had not impaled him, for that had happened more than once too. Without bothering to get up from the ground he crawled on all fours towards the weapon, his gaze and thought so fixed upon retrieving it that he had not noticed anyone approaching. His bare digits reached and were about to wrap around the wooden pole, when he heard a voice. The fact that it was a female one made him halt, the cerulean darting towards the direction of it in light confusement. Damsels... This deep in the woods? Not that he had an idea how deep in the wilderness he actually was, or where he was in general. Wait, did that tree just move?

    Still crouching down, he spotted movement between the restless trunks and narrowed his look a bit. Wonder if they were hostile... He grabbed the axe and shook the snow off the blade, hoisting his figure from the ground with the swiftness of a young rabbit, should the said animal had gotten a concussion just moments before. As continuation to the most undignified stumble, Etherone swept the traces of snow and withered leaves from defiling his person and regained his confused posture. Against his usual trail of action, which was to charge blindy at the soon-to-be-enemy, or deer, he hid. If there was something he had learnt, it was to trust no one. And that women were just as bad as men when it came to opponents, if not even worse.

    He waited, sitting behind yet another bush and restraining his very breath. Was not certain if they had noticed him already, maybe they were one of those damn mages that could sense if someone did as little as farted a mile away. But for now, he convinced himself they had not seen him, if one was to judge the probing approach. Then, when he calculated them to be close enough, he jumped out like the smooth gentleman he was, blade raised above his head.

    " GOOD DAY! May I axe ya a question!? " He roared, trying to seem as intimidating as he could, but still keeping some politess and not striking down just yet. Shouldn't be hasty and kill a person without introductions, how would he be able to give them a proper funeral without even knowing their name.
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    Galena
    Member Avatar
    Thy sins, paid in blood...

    Maybe she was mistaken, but the Sentinel Pines didn't usually mark out an intruder if there wasn't one. What would prompt a tree to lie? They were slow, and usually not very bright past the wants of food and water. The only reason they marked the passage of intruders was because they roamed, slowly creeping around the edges of the garden. At least they weren't full of stranger vines. She'd had to remove a bunch last summer because they had become a little overzealous and were branching out far too quickly for her liking. By the time she knew she had any intruders at all they'd likely have been dead if she hadn't removed them.
    It was too cold now for them thankfully. The return of spring would surely see them making their appearance again though.

    Naturally, when one is surprised to the extreme by a burly northman throwing himself out of the trees and waving a very sharp looking axe over his head, one screams. Which is exactly what the dryad did, stumbling back and overbalancing, her rear hitting the ground with a painful thump as she threw her hands up before her face, wincing.
    Should she beg for mercy? Grovel and whine and cower like a whipped cur at his feet? Most psychopaths enjoyed the illusion of power at least, if not the real thing, but it was obvious that in this situation there was only one in power and that would be he with the oversized axe and the frightening grin. The roar alone would have sent her scuttling for the safety of her home.
    The roar alone in any other season would have bought the grizzly that roamed loosely around the garden running to the sound too, but Siskin was not present, doubtlessly snuggled away in her den, hibernating from the cold.

    Galena swallowed, inching backwards in tiny increments, her hands bunching and finding nothing but the frosted and dried dead leaves, handfuls of mulch and stiff needles from the pines, light snow and broken sticks.
    "G-good day..."
    Her voice sounded a little hoarse even to her own ears, quavering slightly as she fought to swallow the fear that hypnotized her with the shine of light on the blade.
    "Please don't cut me into pieces. I fear it would rather spoil mine day entirely..."
    What hadn't already been spoiled of course by losing one's patients...but really there was nothing worse than a mad axeman jumping out from behind your trees and making as if he was going to sever your limbs and use you for firewood. Good thing she was already on the ground then, for her knees had gone weak at the thought of it slicing easily through bone and skin. Where would he start, the neck? The torso? It was the biggest part and easiest to hit, but if she scrambled up and ran then he would probably strike her back first. At least she wouldn't see it coming, only hear the whistling song as the air sliced past the metal...

    Stop it, stop that at once! Thou art scaring thineself into a foolish and dizzy mess!

    The dryad swallowed, her gaze dancing between the weapon, the overly large male himself and the mess of drifting brown leaves that apparently disturbed by his 'introduction' were now settling on the ground around her, and in her lap. After a moment of nothing, she flicked her eyes towards the open space where her house lay, still far too distant to make a run for it, and how easy would he chop right through the door with that?
    So she did the only thing that seemed equally inappropriate at the time, and not very dryadic at all.
    "W-would you like some tea?" She wrung her hands in her lap, twisting the stola tightly between white knuckles, clenching her jaw to stop her teeth chattering from the unpleasant mixture of cold and fear. If she could just reach a tree she could vanish and he'd never be able to cut her into matchsticks.
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    Etherone
    Member Avatar


    A scream. So far so good.

    The stumble that followed was unexpected, yet not too surprising when taken the circumstances. It made him just a bit pleased, for he had made an impression of sorts, even if the fear in the eyes of another wasn't something he considered as enjoyable to receive. He was used to seeing such an expression in those that mostly deserved it, at least when the widened stare was directed at his respected direction, but this case seemed to be hardly so. At first glance they seemed to be unarmed, but he wasn't to leap into feeling safe and sound just yet. Who knew what they could be hiding inside that... His hues traced their attire in a fashion most noticable. Dress. Weren't they cold, veiling themselves so lightly in the dead of winter? Yet again, who was he to say...

    On the field of creeping guilt, the first words that escaped the Lady only made things worse. All this... Axeswinging, Bushjumping and Ladyfrightening started to seem wrong to him. They seemed to be one of those polite ones, giving him a nice Good day in return even if he was currently holding a weapon in a most sturdy standby-position. Sotoan manners or something probably. In where he was from, the assaulted would have already got to their feet and turned into some type of a wild beast and counterattacked him. He measured the Lady up and down, trying to make sense of their being whilst staring and listening to them talk. What a calm approach they had, even a tad bit humorous when taken it was their Life they were discussing. Made him ponder if they indeed had something up their sleeve, a trickster of a woman.

    One could have said he wasn't as concerned about being pounced upon by an animal as he was for it to be done by a magician. He hated witchery and all that, for he had no idea how to fight it in his terms. Wonder if they had potential to execute a foul magic trick. He came to a loose conclusion that they might have done it already if they could have, but without dismissing the possible threat completely. These people sure kept him on his toes.

    He had not been able to utter a word amidst his indecisive decisionmaking, standing still like some heroic statue. If one didn't take in account his distantly awkward facial features, which degreased the amount of said heroism generously. It was as if he was awaiting the other to bounce up any minute, lingering even if it was quite certain they would not. Ah well... The only thing that made him consider lowering the axe was the strain that was currently fondling his arm, due to it having staid raised up for a bit now. Must. Resist.

    - W-would you like some tea?

    What?

    Speaking of odd customs, this sure was one. Or was it a offering over truce? Wasn't really one to be made since the battle had hardly begun, but guess the suggestion of an axe in their face was enough for them to think of peace having been disrupted. Either way, it was the last straw so to speak. His arm fell down from its position, hand relieving itself from the blade when it was placed back to the metal loop on his belt and in a bit of ashamed throat clearing he straightened up. Was no way he was going to turn down a proposition as that, not when it was done by a person that had just been scared out of their dignified and most figurative trousers. Heck, if he was to die drinking tea with a pretty lady, then so be it. His ancestors sure would be proud, the dead lechers they were. Same couldn't be said from his Mother who was currently calling him a Moron inside his head. Dismissed.

    " Can't say No to that now, can I? " Etherone tossed his hand briefly before taking a step towards the Lady and extending it in attempt of maybe hoisting them to their feet. Was no place for a Lady to sit on a pile of snow. And leaves. And other stuff. Dirt in general. His voice had no trace of the doubts he still held of the agendas of the Lady, was rather friendly when accompanied with the sincere smile he flashed. Be cool, the other sure was with their teeth clattering and all that, didn't seem to have the same type of tolerance he had against the chill, but yet again not many he had met did.

    When his posture reappeared, he craned his neck just a bit to see to the distance. A house loomed between the trunks, blurred out in the monochrome of a surrounding. Ah, totally missed that one before.

    " Ya live here, or somethin'? " He started, look bouncing between the small female and their could-be-home. Wonder why they had to have a fence though. Were they one of those rich folk? Nobility, royalty, importantry? Sure would explain the odd arrangement that was happening on the yard, the trees and other plant life didn't seem as wild as on the outside. One of those... Gardens, he guessed. Massive to that, since all he had seen for a garden was a casual flower bucket or two until now. Strange city slickers.

    He reached to the side to lean against a tree, like some dainty ladies' man, yet he was not even close to the sort. Maybe a bit the latter, but shouldn't be too confident.
    " Sorry for jumpin' out like that. And for trespassin' yar Garden. Is a nice one though, that bush back there was real great for landin' purposes. " A chuckle, accompanied with a wide grin. Had to try to loosen up the spirit at least, no matter how badly he seemed to always do it. His head inclined back towards the violated pile of branches and withered leaves, a somewhat sad sight in its stomped state. It'll grow back, he thought, unlike many other things he had wrecked or dislocated in the past.

    Then the bark under his digits rustled and moved, making him recoil from it like it had just given him an electric shock. He had been about to draw out his dependable axe and whack the literal life out of the possessed tree, but halted for the sake of the ladyfolk's presence. The startled, questioning frown was fixed upon the being that had shifted, his hand resting on Argsint's wooden handle in preparation. Get eaten by a tree... That would be something now, wouldn't it. Not going to happen, Tree Demon.

    " What in ten hells is wrong with yar trees? If ya don't mind me askin'..."
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    Galena
    Member Avatar
    Thy sins, paid in blood...

    What could she say about her apparent assailant, now he was tentatively lowering the great axe? A sigh of relief exploded quietly from her lips, making her realize that she had in fact been holding her breath. At least it seemed less probable that he was about to make her into matchsticks.

    Well...he was probably the most rugged man she'd encountered in a while. That dazzling smile was a touch on the unnerving, suggesting he knew something she didn't. Or had seen a side of her that she'd rather have not been revealed on just meeting, like finding out someone was watching you undress when you thought your privacy was your own. She half anticipated the wiggle of his eyebrows to go for it, and firmed her mouth into a thin line to stop from laughing. If he struck a pose right then, it wouldn't have surprised her to see the sun creep through the clouds to light upon his golden wind-tossed locks. Maybe he even had a theme tune.
    For all the barbarian hero style though, at least he was wearing a shirt. Well...it was cold out.

    Galena inched away a fraction, unsconciously smoothing her skirts, then reached out with a reluctant smile and placed her tiny hand in his bear-paw and let him haul her to her feet all too quickly. She stumbled, one hand resting on his forearm light as a bird as she steadied herself. Was that simply her own breathless ineptitude or did he have some sort of charming effect to go with the faux-godly image as well?

    Lords he is huge.

    "Thank you."
    She dragged her thoughts away from the odd comparison, mentally assessing him next to her missing, possibly late husband, slender as a whip and garbed in his finery. Compared to this man he was a real dandy. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide the smile, then carefully removed her fingers from his grasp as well. The Dryad in her was more than willing to go gallivanting off through the trees with a strange woodsman, while the noblewoman in her stamped her foot repeatedly and determined that it wasn't proper. Perhaps she'd spent too much time behind the desk of late.
    "Indeed...this is my garden." She gestured vaguely at the surroundings, at the high wall she could make out as the Sentinel Pine slowly eased back into position, roots splayed while they sought fresh soil. "I live over there...at least, most of the time." She pointed back off through the trees, the expanse of frostbitten grass and the distant house wreathed in the icy fog rising from the ground. Her breath misted as she spoke, and she could already feel her extremities tingling with a prickly numbness that had she tendrils and branches, she may have recoiled in on herself.

    Her mossy green gaze slid to the bush as he made his apologies, the corners of her mouth turning down with some perplexity as she viewed it. Had he not thought that the wall was there for a reason? Perhaps his whimsical curiosity had gotten the better of him. He didn't exactly seem the type to get lost. Or at least, not to care about being lost. If you weren't aware that you were lost, could you yet be so? What if you knew and were not bothered? Was it tantamount to the same thing?
    "It's quite alright. It is...unusual that there are visitors to mine abode."
    Not socially anyway. Officially, it was usually messengers and runners to fetch her somewhere else. Rare was it that she actually entertained here aside from the odd suitor now and then. Lately there had been too much work. The cold always bought an influx of people knocking at her figurative door for this cure or that for a cough, a headache, a common running nose.
    Already she had begun to move towards the rather bedraggled plant when his question drew her wandering attention back, green orbs settling on the tree, then on him wonderingly.
    "I am most sorry." He obviously didn't know where he was after all... "My name is Galena Barillus. I am one of the Sotoan Councillors...and this is my garden. Verily, it is a collection of the most unusual wildlife...I wouldst find it most pleasing if you did not...hmmm..." She reached out, trailing her fingertips across the leaves, which shivered at her touch and perked up slowly again, restoring to their former state as they fed from her energy. "...axe them any questions...of a physical nature."
    Her smile then was dappled sunlight on water, softly blooming as she returned to his side and alighted the tips of her fingers upon his arm, guiding him to walk across the snowy expanse back towards the house.
    "Now, about that tea, if thou wouldst walk with me, sir..?"
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    Etherone
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    The Lady's calm apology was unexpected, but enough to make him lower his guard and back away from the treacherous pine, whilst grunting curses at it in the bulky native of Do'Suul and eyeing it as if he knew its dirtiest secrets. After his brief, horribly one-sided glaring contest he finally detached his attention and let it drift at the delightful company he had just stumbled across. As he observed the nymph of a woman tending to the massacred parts of their garden, stature serene and contained, he couldn't but incline his head and let his brows shade his eyes in ponder. The Lady sure was stoic, their very posture and way of speaking signaling him a type of sadness or humility. It didn't quite fit that beauty of a face, he figured, for he would've rather witnessed a smile on those lips. He tapped his chin and was about to begin plotting on a solution to the flattened mood, but was soon interrupted by the chime of a voice that uttered a most surprising introduction. They were a what now? Maybe it was due to the recent timid behaviour that it had not crossed his cheery Mind they could've been an honourable part of the Sotoan council, the little detail delivered in their sentence hitting him in the back of his head quite unpleasantly.

    Well then! From all the lovely bushes of the world you chose to break a landing on a councillor's respected one. Bravo, hope they have an award on foolishness for you sure deserve one in regard of events as of late. He mused this could only end two ways, either he was to be brutally castrated for the violation -knowing the sadistic ways of politicians- or then he was to extend the bush intruding to a more figurative dimension and charm the screaming panties off this woman. His ancestors had their monetary interest on the more brutal option though, traitors.

    As if their high position wasn't enough, they seemed to be channeling something with those subtle movements that touched the greenery. Or was it just his imagination that the leaves seemed to perk up in some otherwordly happiness when the Lady reached for them, right before his eyes. This trap hole just got a wee bit deeper, by his brief calculation, for he had always treated magicians and the like with great suspicion. Hell, they saw things that didn't exist in the physical sense and could control some ethereal, unseen powers, was more than reasonable for him to be at dismay.

    He kept up his feigned, wonky smile nevertheless, no matter how doomed he felt himself that fleeting moment.

    - ...axe them any questions...of a physical nature.

    When the female most-likely-a-treacherous-mage came to his side and their digits tried his arm, he almost flinched. The friendlines had all of a sudden gained a threatening tone in his mind, a deceptive quality that had taken to be a bravura of the ladyfolk in the past. However, the returned pun sure had been heartening and thoughtful, making it certain to give it all a fascinating and suggestive edge as the ultimate crown of her speech. How provocative. Made his smirk widen a bit thought. Was a weird feeling to have both the desire to run and to stay, dueling each other in one's indecisive head. But, as one might expect from someone as bewitched as him, he let the Lady lead him through the garden to their prefered direction like the sheep on a leash he was.

    " Ah, ye, the Tea. " He chuckled finally in answer and tossed his hand carelessly, his look returning to hover over the Lady's delicate figure. Why did the word Tea sound like a synonym to a tortute chamber -or basement- now? " And I am no Sir, Lady Barillus, for I got no nice titles to share. I go by as just Etherone Frej, but ya may shorten it however ya sees most fittin'. " The attempted flirtatious voice of his continued, a sustained grin arching his corners slightly. His look shot around absently during the advance, the dazed stream behind the caerulean hues pondering on what was to be as it stared at the hibernating surrounding. Wonder if she had a husband... Trusting his luck, she had, since most of the women he saw as attractive were either taken or utterly... Disinterested. And if he was to further the assumption, that husband enjoyed violence towards trespassers.

    Did butchers and torturers alike take request? For he would rather be swiftly decapitated than fall under some hideous, sneering torment. Guess he just had to hope this Galena Barillus was as gentle as the first name's soft syllables suggested, more than of the following that was more on the stern and dominant side. Not that he would've objected to the latter at all.

    As the house drew nigh, he begun to get more aware of how out of league he was in his rugged state. Not only for the woman who had significantly outclassed him from the second they had spoken in their poetic and arhaic language, but for the so-called humble property as well. Damn, he felt like his very step was currently defiling the snowcoated ground, removing all grace from its pristine surface with an uncaring stampede that was like an earthquake next to the Lady's light carriage. His free hand swung up slowly to smoothen his braided hair, as if there had been something to be done about his appearance in hope of making it less... Woodsmany? He had been invited for a civil cup of Tea in the premises of a noble though, the recently surfaced fact making him suspect that maybe his attire and hairstyle weren't that inproper after all.

    Getting to the intimate and overwhelming presence of the neat building, he halted his step for a moment to just stare at it measuringly. Maybe he was to land a compliment or two, just to cause chatter and loosen up his own nervousness?

    " Ya sure got quite the home, Lady. " He stated briefly in an adoring chuckle upon gesturing at the masterpiece of masonry and other crafts of construction, his other hand reaching out of some impulse to grasp that of the Lady's gently like they were some comrade with whom he had just discovered the greatest treasure or victory. Their hand felt cold against his palm and after shedding them a concerned look he released their limb rapidly upon sudden realization over the unattended awkwardness, turning on his place to stretch his arms absently in some type of horrible masking attempt. He stroked the top of his head during his detachment, rearranging his blonde strands whilst clearing his throat. Alright, pull yourself together, you are acting like some demented savage. Ignore, ignore.

    " Well. After you, Lady Barillus. " The Hunter flipped on his heel once more, the shameless joyfulness having returned to take over his essence when he offered a little bow to the host to further his suggestion. Were they to head indoors without significant hassle, he would obediently follow in their wake.
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    Galena
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    Thy sins, paid in blood...

    Galena pondered the unfamiliar words that tripped off of the strangers tongue as he stumbled away from the pine as though it carried some highly infectious disease, recoiling like the very touch of the bark upon his skin would mar his northern appeal. Silly really, trees never hurt anyone. Except for those who chose to run into them at high speed, they almost always lost that fight. Or those who decided to climb their majestic branches and made a fatal misstep. Or those who happened to be in the wrong place when they toppled. One could not really blame a tree for its nature. They were not known to be unduly vicious. Unless of course you had some sort of perverse grudge against nature.
    On second thoughts, she didn't want to know what he'd been saying. It was probably vulgar, judging by the tone.

    From the look on his face, her introduction had not exactly gone well. Perhaps he had some sort of grudge or dislike of the council? She raised her hands before her, the corners of her mouth turning down as she tried to rectify the blunder.
    "Please, it is nothing more than a title. I do the same as I have always done."
    Tend to the sick and neglect yourself, fool.
    She squashed the tiny critical voice under her heel, and plucked at her stola in embarrassment. Her foolish unthinking noble rank had made him uncomfortable, and in that, she had made herself uncomfortable as well. How many nymphs had carried any kind of title? They were more famed for running through the forests with a man in pursuit, or a satyr, or another suitable denizen of the Fae.

    She almost laughed when she felt the muscles in his arm go taut as a bowstring at her touch. What exactly was he afraid of? Her? She was more than a foot shorter than he, fragile in comparison to his perfectly sculpted physique, and he could probably snap her easier than he had the bush that he'd somehow managed to use in cushioning his fall.
    And he'd probably do it without wrecking even a single strand of that fabulous golden hair stirring gently in the wind too.

    "Please, just Galena, Etherone. I may call you Etherone, or doth thou prefer Eth? Ether?"
    She smiled faintly as she lead him back out from under the trees to the open area of the garden, the pond to their right frozen over. It would have made a fun place to skate across the slick surface, were the ice thicker, and the area larger. Perhaps next year, she'd turn it into something else. Probably not though, she didn't really have the time to turn her hand to a large scale gardening project for long. Something in his voice made her glance back at him, a touch of girlish shyness taking her unawares. Was he hitting on her? No, it was her imagination. Of course she had suitors but they were more for show, they fed her tidbits of information. She'd never consider hooking up with any of them, too much like her former husband, prim and proper, with a very large stick up their arse. Or someone else's stick, as was more than likely in his case.
    She cleared her throat, biting her lip to hide the laugh that threatened to break over her features on that. Their interest was as his had been, purely from a political view, not with any real genuine affections or curiosities. And for that they were useful, but it was a cold world with little real company, so this, as unexpected and unannounced as it was, was a real pleasure.

    "Yes...it was quite the inheritance. Much too large for me alone, for I am but a small woman."
    A small 'oh' left her mouth as he clasped her hand as gently as one rescued a bee trapped behind a glass window, and she patted the back of his hand with her other, smiling. Built to a typically Sotoan style, the house was very old, the white stone tinged with pink, a little different from the majority of the houses in the main of Madrid. But being on the outskirts, this had been standing here a long time with the woods encroaching and eating into the lands, the stone had been quarried and shipped from elsewhere in some other age. The coach house snuggled up to the building on the left, dark and dormant for now, the house itself squatting with pale walls and red tiled roof, washed out, terracotta in the wintry sunlight, blanketed with snow.
    The thick collonades over the small portico kept the snow away from the tall glass doors that looked out from the trilinium, but to her it didn't look so inviting, only cold, like a mouth waiting to swallow them. Certainly too big for her by herself. There were the staff of course, but the only rooms she really used were her bedchambers and the adjoining study, a small library of books. Most of her time was spent elsewhere, in the garden or out attending to others in Madrid. She'd almost forgotten her heavy afternoon, but the memory of it placed the careful shroud of sorrow on her once more, and she sighed quietly.

    "Of course. Please, come this way."
    The doors were open when she pushed against them, just the way she'd left them, and they walked through the long dining hall lit by the high windows, filling it with cold grey light. The dark wood tables were bare but for the runners, seasonally changed to red, gold and white. It was supposed to be festive, but she didn't quite see it. At least it brightened it up a little in there, made it appear warmer, even if it was not so. Why bother heating a room when nobody was in it?
    Their footsteps echoed on the bare flooring as she headed to the small service door that led on to the kitchen from there, holding it open for her guest to pass through after her.
    It was much warmer on the other side, the rough wooden table by the roaring hearth laden with stacks of empty wooden trenchers and eating utensils, the potboy working at a slice of buttered bread and a tankard of thick honey mead, two of the cooks rolling and kneading dough on the farther counter before the ovens.
    "Mistress? Who's this you've bought with you then?"
    The woman was larger than Galena, hardly surprising, and twice as wide, dusting her floured hands on her apron with a rosy cheeked smile, her dark hair scraped back into a severe bun.
    "Ilsa, please meet Etherone Frej. He fell over mine wall, into the bushes."
    The cook tipped her head on one side, giving the big northman a measuring look, and a not so coy one at the tiny woman with a murmur of "Oh aye, I bet he did," to the flush of heat to the smaller woman's features. She laughed, clapped her pudgy hands together with a puff of dusty flour and winked at him, smiling back at her Lady, "I'm just joshing you mistress. He'll want feeding then?"
    "A pot of tea, if you please, and lunch for the Peristylium."
    "Tis cold out there, milady."
    "Quite. I feel our Guest wouldst be more at home under the sky however...? We may stay here in the warmth, if not."
    The inner garden would be chill she knew, better suited to dining in the summer, but she was not overly bothered. The wash of heat on walking into the kitchen had been wonderful, enough to bring the blood rushing back to her limbs, but she was as tough as any tree, and the frost wouldn't be bringing her down any time soon.
    Well if you get cold, there is always this great ox to sit beside for his heat.
    Galena flushed, perching herself on the edge of the wooden bench and patted it beside her, bidding Eth to sit too while they awaited the bustling women to fetch the food and tea. The potboy was sitting with his mouth open in some sort of awestruck pose, and she reached across the table, pushing his jaws shut with two fingers.
    "Eat, Martin."
    "Are you a warrior?!" He blurted suddenly, leaning across the table to get a better look at Eth. "I ent ne'er seen a real warrior afore. Lord Tilus 'ad a sword but 'e weren't a real one. 'e was all dancin' wit' et, like a lady. Beggin' yer pardon mistress."
    Galena flapped a hand idly, smiled her fondness for the lad and rose to pour a mug of the sweet mead for her Guest, sliding it across the table to him. Everyone knew it was true, Tilus had been a real dandy. Good with the sword, but she was more like to attribute his courage to a bowl of cold custard than a lion.
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    Etherone
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    In a nod he let the Lady pass, glancing to the distance at the wall over which he had arrived, as if bidding farewell to his escape route and freedom that laid behind. Or then he was just wondering if Oska was still there, waiting. It did cross his mind for a split of a second if he was to fetch the horse for tea as well, the said animal being his close friend and all that, but he figured fast enough that the Lady didn't look like one of those to let a steed into the house. Not to mention the establishment was probably too fancy for him alone. Shaking his head in an amused hum he took after the Councillor slowly, keeping a professional distance behind the newfound hostess whilst his creeping grin was far from the sort.

    His cool hues shot about wildly when the clear doors opened, a vague investigation taking place over the muted details and colours upon entrance. He stepped in swiftly, evading from touching the door for too long in fear of staining it with his... presence or something, a momentarily held breath breaking out in a restrained exhale of relief. Alright, so far so smooth, hope there aren't too many other fragile things to be thrown on his way. His gait slowed down, awestruck head spinning around like it was awaiting to be cut off by some hidden blade from the ceiling until it settled to linger above the clothed table that kept the room's center captive, its polished wooden surface shining under the toppings like a murky mirror. To them it all was a daily sight, but to someone who had gotten used to staring at the tent cloth above his head it was something entirely different. Too bad he didn't know any fancy terms to describe it. Only the word 'Nice' escaped him in a deep mutter, a simple compliment he chose to leave to himself.

    As the soft footsteps of the other drew further he noticed himself having fallen behind. The knock of his boots echoed from the walls of exported stone when he accelerated sharply for a few hasty steps, another door of less transparency being opened at the moment he reached the Lady again. He flashed a smile in appreciation over them holding the door, his palm placing flat against it when he dipped his head just a bit to make sure he wasn't to hit it on the door frame. How embarrasing that would've been.

    The warmth of the new space flushed over, bringing with it a collection of pleasing scents and sounds of a kitchen. His observance noted first the boy by the table, then two others across the room, all of which he offered a polite nod in greeting and saw the door closed behind him. The flickering light of the fire spread a homely atmosphere, foremost giving a less threatening image if not making the air toasty when accompanied by the lit ovens. He had not gained friendship with such a heat, but thought himself capable of managing it if need be. Was his suspicion they were to frown upon him should he make a comment of disliking indoors, even more so if he was to ask for permission to shed a layer or two. Not that he was wearing more than one currently.

    He staid from the conversation that took place, for there was nothing smart in particular he could've said that would have made him look less of a lost outdoorsman. When he was introduced to the woman that reminded him of his mother somewhat, he gave them a subtle wave markingly. To their notion and laughter that followed he almost answered in similar manner, but restrained himself, if not letting a hideous grin break over his face. Now that it was voiced, it sure sounded like a ridiculous arrival with an edge of an excuse, even in all the truth it presented. Guess it only meant too many didn't climb over seven foot walls, thus gaining him a little victory in fields of uniqueness. Or stupidity, should he end up slaughtered after getting comfortable and careless over tea.

    To the unexpected wink from the generously formed woman, he answered by arching his brows innocently and turning his look away from their knowing gaze, letting it travel to inspecting the kid instead. They were staring at him for some reason and he halfly felt like shifting at them rapidly in order to make them flinch, but thought it inproper in the circumstances. After all, it might have caused them to choke into their bread. Instead he formed a smile out of politess, trying to keep it as far from mischievous as he could. The discussion in the background crept in the edge of his attention and had him wondering what was this... Peristylium, a codename for some sort of foul chamber of misery perhaps? Wonder if the cooks had some hidden killing devices in their pockets...

    Humming a tune of obedience he took a seat at the spot suggested, flicking a few stray locks to the back absently. " If it is cold as the Madam says, I don't mind stayin' here if it pleases ya. " He answered belatedly, throwing a glance at Ilsa's general direction. Better not make an eye contact with them, lest they wink again and dare him do the same, so exposing the reality of his deepest nature.

    He hoisted an elbow on the table to support his posture, tracing Galena's movement when they reached to correct the boy. Was what released their tense silence in a question of sincere excitement, their small figure leaning closer in uncontrolled curiousity and causing him to shift at his spot just a bit due to the rapidness of it all. He recovered from the approach fast enough not to seem too jumpy, rather surprised, the generic grin taking over his features as he leaned towards Martin conspiratorially. " Of a sort. " A half a whisper, over which he chose to wiggle his eyebrows twice for an unserious effect. His hues staid on the boy in a sustained stare above his plotting smile when he took the beverage offered, grasping the mug lightly and hoisting it in appreciation at Galena. The kid had spoken of some Lord Tilus, in such a modifier that told them being long gone and of some importance to the Lady. Maybe the husband he had suspected? Or some other... Lover. To prevent himself from expressing a too evident reaction to his reasoning in a widening smile he took a swig of his drink, nodding to himself in contemplation over the taste.

    " Dancin' ya say? Don't know much about twirlin' myself, nor am I a swordsman really, but I got a few... Axes. " The hunter begun once, glancing at Galena upon the last word in a concealed grin. They sure were familiar with the fact.

    " Ya aspirin' to be a warrior some day then, young Mister? " His attention returned to the one addressed, the question placed in attempt of distracting him from pondering the mystery over this Lord Tilus. He thought it improper to search for an answer in the matter, for their presence was no longer immediate by the sound of it and relationships blurry for now, not to mention how suggestive such an investigation would be. " Favorin' a sword, like the Lord, or some other blade maybe? " He added in further question, inspectorial gaze creeping towards the Lady once more, as if searching for some sort of a clue in the elvenlike noble's expression. They seemed sorrowful still, gestures and tried smiles reaching from under a muting gauze, his interruption from before having dismissed the overlaying mood of the day only for a while. The darkening ponder flattened his grin a bit, if not condemned unable to dissolve it completely.

    " Is some good mead ya got here, Lady. " He stated in a nod in between the warriorly debate, delivering a wink at the Hostess in the wake of his praise. Compared to their brew his was akin to swamp water, if not having a different purpose on which circumstances to be enjoyed in and how extensively. He came aware he was probably drinking it too fast, taking how he was used to, thus forcing himself to put the cup down for a moment.
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    Galena
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    Thy sins, paid in blood...

    "Does the cold not bother thee, sir?"
    She almost remarked that he seemed quite under dressed for it, in what looked like a thin shirt and pants. It had been snowing outside. The pond was frozen. Perhaps he had ice in his blood. She hoped that he wasn't merely making some ridiculous show of bravery that compromised his health, that would be terrible. And touching, but really just terrible. Hypothermia was hardly what she would call a Fun Evening Activity. Though it wasn't so different from sitting by the heart with a cup of cocoa and chatting. Just that one person was half freezing to death really.

    The boy grinned back at the big northman, the woman pursing her lips in thought, though it might just as easily have been taken in disapproval by the manner in which he ducked his head and resumed eating, grinning around his food yet.
    She glanced away as the clink of porcelain was set upon the table, and thanked the cook with a murmur and a grateful smile. Just tea, plain green tea. Not even a drop of alcohol in it. The others could warm themselves all they liked with it, though her mind advised her the technicalities of it were quite the reverse. Her own tolerance for alcohol was shamefully low, and she made a point not to drink it lest she disgrace herself and end up quite literally depicting the fanciful motif in mosaic that ran the length of the hall...and they did not of course, want that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had too much to drink, but then that was usually the case. Having woken up in the garden pond had been something of a sobering slap to the face. Clearly her more natural, nymph nature, took over when her inhibitions were even slightly lower than normal.

    The woman coloured over her teacup as she sipped from it, determined not to choke when he turned those thrice-damned wiggling eyebrows in her direction. A girlish giggle started up in her throat and resulted in a sultry titter, making her clack her teeth on the rim most disgracefully. Well, A for effort when it came to trying to govern one's own actions.
    "He was more of a dancer than a fighter, frankly. I don't think I ever saw him actually duel anyone. He just liked to slap people around the face with his glove and get away with it. I think he was bribing them not to thrash him silly."
    She sipped, watched Etherone over the edge of her teacup and winced at the bitterness of the drink, scalding her tongue. Well that's what you got when you spoke ill of the dead, she supposed. The boy was gawking at her. No doubt the whole house would be muttering about her disrespectful tone later, though it was hardly a jealously guarded secret.
    "Close thine mouth Martin."
    Galena replaced the teacup on the dainty saucer and pushed it away from herself a little, sliding her gaze to Eth, interlocking her fingers and settling them beneath her chin.
    "Lord Tilus was my husband. He's been missing, presumed dead, for a good five years now. Almost six."
    "You shou'n't speak ill o' t'e dead tho' m'lady."
    She raised one brow, as if daring the lad to go on criticizing her. He swallowed his mouthful, ducked his head with an apology.
    "If he is dead then he can come and tell me so himself. That's what's supposed to happen when a man dies at sea, isn't it? He goes to haunt his lost love?"
    "Aye ma'am."
    Neither of them wanted to say it aloud, that it was entirely possible there had been someone else. Hell she knew there was, every other week. It was a political arrangement, not one of emotional attachment.
    "'Ave you ever kil't someone then sir?'
    "Martin!" She shot him a warning look to chuckles rolling over her from the background. "That is not a suitable topic for a young man to be speaking of over dinner."

    "I'm gonna be one o' t'e 'ouse guard I am!'
    Galena rolled her eyes. What was it with boys of his age, that they all aspired to go beating things up? He was good with the horses, but apparently that wasn't good enough because she'd seen him practicing in the yard only a week prior with the doorman, belting each other with clubs and wearing about sixteen layers of clothing to pad themselves out. She didn't even know they owned that much.
    "Maybe t'e mace. I'm s'posed to be learnin' t'e quarterstaff first, an' then maybe somethin' wit' a bit more sting like! 'Ow 'eavy is yer axe mister?"
    Galena had just about given up trying to guide the conversation when the stout woman returned, laughed and flashed her guest a smile that was all teeth and set down a wooden platter stacked with warm slices of bread, a dish of butter, and a pile of sliced roast meat. She returned after a moment with a fresh pitcher of the thick honeyed alcohol and left it between them with an extra cup, of which Galena poured herself a minuscule amount.
    "Thank my staff. Their excellent skills are what keep this place running. I just fund it, really. Please partake of the hospitality as much as thou wisheth." She smiled with a deprecating shrug of her shoulders, and raised her wooden cup to him.
    "To your good health sir."
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    Etherone
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    He shook his head briefly. No, the cold certainly did not bother him, a fact narrated by his under-clad appearance, but neither did he feel to explain the matter. Should he have mentioned the Do'Suul, he would've been talking about it for hours. Speaking of endless rocks, mountains and hunt didn't seem like a subject the Lady would've approved, taking how they were acting towards the boy's interest on fights and weapons.

    - Lord Tilus was my husband.

    A neutral nod. I knew it. The expression 'was' had sounded quite pleasing though. Exceedinly and disturbingly so. Wonder if they were done grieving, seemed as of that at least. Six years sounded like a long time apart, if he was to trust the amount of soberity the Lady seemed to upkeep, taking they were the only one having tea in the company of a woodsman and a some maybe-twelve-year-old. Not that he was... planning anything in particular. He was thinking a good many things at that moment really. He glanced at the distantly sorrowful gaze that was upon him, trying a grin in response. Wasn't like he could've said anything in comment to the lingering conversation, anything proper anyway. 'Want a replacement for your lost product?' might have been a little too daring and straightforward.

    - Ave you ever kil't someone then sir?

    He was beginning to like this kid and regardless of the Lady's disapproval he smiled widely in response, nodding briefly in confirmation. He had killed, sure, both in the Wild and Duty, the latter provided by his years in the Morrimian troops. Wasn't that he had enjoyed it or anything, but in the eyes of the young it seemed like a good resume to have a few lives broken by one's blade. Too bad the way of a Soldier had never fit him too well, being as hardheaded and uncaring as he was, disobeying orders and seduced by earthly necessities too easily. Maybe it was for the best that the Lady forced them both to dismiss the debate, lest he spoke of such things, his eyes dipping to examine the mead whilst the boy returned to their dinner like good manfolk did in front of women's wrath.

    The boy's choice of trade made him nod. At least they had the excitement for it and the possible discipline -since he himself had learnt to have none- would come through training and age.
    " An honourable profession I say, good call fer a kid like ya. "
    When they continued, asking of his chosen weapon, he put down the cup from his hands and reached to Argsint that laid strapped on his belt. It glimmered and let out little clink when he set it on the table, half way towards Martin. It had occured to him that it might be improper to place blades on the dinner setting, more so in that of a Sotoan politician, but he didn't really have an answer to give for the weight question. Best they try themselves.
    " Lift it and ya got yer answer. " He tried a calming smile at Galena then, just in case they be willing to protest his move, and slowly returned to his drink, observing the boy.

    He nodded and flashed an equally wide grin to the cook upon their return, eyeing all that was offered in a careful manner. Not a fan of bread, his gaze lingered upon the meat in ponder, for it sure looked like a roast fit for a King, if he was any judge. Not that he had met any Kings or been in their tables really, the unsignificant moonshiner scum as he was.

    " And yers too, Lady Galena. " He responded, raising a toast to the Councillor and giving the rest of the company in the room a nod before taking a restrained swig. In any other situation, like that one he had had with his favourite blacksmith, Ymir, at the capital, he would've downed the whole drink, but kept from such due to the suspected cost of that he was currently holding. He also made a most precious remark that so far he had ended up drinking with everyone he had met so far, be it outlaws, peasants or even lords and ladies. Made him suspect he might have had a problem. Or then everyone around him had and he was but a mere victim of their alcoholism. Yes, must have been that.
    Putting the cup down, he reached for the offerings in a casual gesture, glancing at the others as if looking for acceptance. For real he was rather checking if they wanted any, for he knew he could just down the whole table himself. Nevertheless, he chose to start with a modest amount of bread and meat, one slice of both in a neat stack. As he tried it, grinning at Galena all the while for a reason unknown, he noticed himself nodding. It was quite good.

    " Congratulations to the cook. I have not had better roast in my entire life. " He shot to his feet then in a creak of his seat, raising his cup in appreciation at everyone present before tipping it over and flushing down the mentioned dish. Well, guess that was it for saving the precious mead. Slapping the cup on the table victoriously, as if he had just nailed the prettiest girl in the village by some accident, he winked at the fey Lady for what-might-have-been-the-hundreth time, crossing his arms over his chest.

    " Ya mentioned some Perstailium before. Whassat? Am intrigued. " The Hunter begun once again, locking onto the Councilor in a daring smile. Now that he had gotten to chat and drink, regaining his usual merry mood and confidence in the process, that torture chamber didn't sound too bad anymore. Not that he thought this nice lady of having one, but the possibility was always there. Whether his sudden self-assurance over his survival was caused by the heat -which was slowly getting unbearable- or the company and liquor - and the fact that this wasn't his first sip of the day-, he wouldn't know. But for all he knew he had gained an urge to go making snow angels.
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    Galena
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    Thy sins, paid in blood...

    It didn't really surprise her when the great bear of a man offered a brief nod in confirmation of the boy's question. Perhaps that was awfully wrong to assume that sort of stereotype, and a flash of guilt struck her, stilling her hands on the mead. She might not look it but she'd killed too, when it came to necessity. Not publicly, and she'd never admit as much in front of her staff, especially not the boy. Such things were unseemly, and not suited to ladies. To think she might have once gone running naked around the rainforest with her sisters...well such things had no real place in this sort of society. It was those sort of thoughts that made her wonder if she shouldn't abandon it all and return to the woodlands, but what exactly would she do?

    There were people in the hospital that needed her, and she wouldn't turn her back on them, for all that there were capable hands who might take some of the load from her shoulders when necessary. It only served to remind her that she wasn't human, just a facade, a stupid mockery trying too hard to be something else.

    "Can I? Miss?"
    With a sigh of mock long-suffering, she flapped her hand in assent, as though the very act of giving the permission made her wrist too heavy to lift.
    "Cor!"
    To her amusement, Martin hefted the axe, then replaced it back on the table, tracing the flat of the edge with one finger. He knew better than to touch the very edge, tantalizingly shiny as it was, the edges scored from the loving lick of the whetstone. Such things had their own hypnotic beauty, and she found that after a moments hesitation, she reached out to caress the steel, noting the fine pattern of folding, the differing tones of bright moonlit silver and shadows in the metal. Nothing said that things both natural and manmade could not be beautiful, even if they were made to kill. And there was that, as it was beautiful to watch a charging bear, a leaping panther or galloping horse, so did man have the same ethereal grace of honed muscle and practiced fluidity.

    Just as well she refused herself the mead that she would have undoubtedly guzzled happily by now and been merry as a fishwife. It didn't keep the gleam of mirth from her gaze as she ran her hand down the haft, and face perfectly straight, asked in all innocence;
    "Does it see much use? Thou must keepeth it honed and the wood well oiled, for it to be in such good condition."
    It occurred to her that she could have invited him to stay if he enjoyed the food that much, but got the impression somehow that this wildman was not one to be tamed with the comforts of a warm roof and good food. Half of her ached to leave it behind again and just run, run like she hadn't in years. But there were too many people hereabouts, and if she just vanished into the woods it would be questioned where she was going and why. It was...inconvenient. Really she had gotten herself into the tangle in the first place, this conscience that told her to stay. All the same...
    Galena lifted her fingertips from the cold steel, and smiled.
    "Then think thineself welcome here should thou needst a shelter, or the warmth of mine fire. Good, earthy company is always welcome."

    "The Peristylium is..mine indoor garden. There is no roof in the middle of the house, but I wouldst not have it any other way. I enjoy being close to nature, this is mine compromise."
    Naturally, the nobility wouldn't understand if she wanted to sleep in a pile of leaves or walk skyclad around in the woods picking flowers. She could do that in the privacy of her own gardens, though even that was risky enough. At least with a house this size it compensated wonderfully for the odd party she threw by invitation. Even if she did always end up hungover and sitting in the pond like some errant nymph with fig leaves that had been acquired from gods-knew-where and artfully arranged over her delicates. It was embarrassing, gave her few options to hide Sympathy and Regret on her person too, bar the obvious. Once she had had a frog croaking on her head too. It had made a nice hair ornament while it lasted.
    Well, shouldn't complain. She was an errant nymph.

    "Wouldst thou like to see it? Come, I will show you around."
    Her enthusiasm for her garden bled through, and she caught at his sleeve, pausing only to issue a light order.
    "Martin, bring the mead to the garden, then tell AIslyn to see to the water in the dining hall."
    "Yes'm."

    The boy went to find a tray while she tugged persistently at her guest, delighted that someone took an interest, after a fashion, leading him through to the columned walkway that surrounded it, then into the garden proper. Snow layered just as thickly within, giving the arranged shrubs their own blanketed coating of the stuff, including the heart tree at the center, devoid of the sweet fruits this time of year.
    A moment later and the boy ran back with the mead, swept off a bench and laid it there before he left again with a flash of teeth.

    "And that one's nightshade, and that one's a lemon but you can barely tell for the snow..."
    The dryad stemmed her flow of chatter as she named the plants with pride, realized that she'd been allowing her mouth to run away with her the whole time.
    "I'm sorry, verily, mine mouth tends to run away with me. I did not always live so, in a place like this, but I cannot very well leave those I attend to, to just...grow things, and run in the woods, and drink mead." She sighed, laughing ruefully. It seemed a fragile fancy now, in this muffled and shrouded garden.
    "But what of thee? Speak a little of thineself, and tell me thine story."
    She stooped, gathering a handful of snow and began heaping it, shaping it into a little bear not unlike the hibernating Siskin in her garden, heedless of how her hands reddened and stiffened with cold until she snatched a handful of holly berries, and gave him two beady red eyes, childlike in its simplicity, and her ridiculous clumsy pride.
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    Etherone
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    Halls greater than his entire childhood home, tiny kitchens that could've provided for an entire army and the latest reveal; indoor garden. What next, a basement the size of an entire city? Heck, he was way out of perspective here.

    He beamed, pleased at the explanation and points made, picking up his axe from the table. His glance visited the shining steel as it was placed back to his belt, the grinning mirror-image gleaming for a fragment of a second nearly making him shake his head. During the strange dual-caress the weapon had gotten before, for a prolonged moment even, he had almost felt jealous. For both his axe and the attention it had been given so extensively, not to mention all the adoring strokes. Well, the strangeness of it all aside, at least these people valued a well-tended blade and saw the sharp beauty of it. Maybe he would've been better off with more shiny parts himself... Would it have made him more attractive to these people?

    Go and figure.

    Needless to say, he had not been able to answer any of the questions given, if only because his restraint over lecherous remarks had been under some serious strain -a minor understatement- and claimed all his concentration. Polite, if mildly distracted nods and strangled grins had been all he allowed himself. At that point anyway.

    Inquiring about wood was always so hazardous. It gave him ideas.

    Before he knew, once again, the lady had already read his simple mind and taken the situation over, readying to lead him to this Peristail-thing. The tug upon his sleeve implied an amount of eagerness and excitement, a welcome change to the strangely detached and stoic alignment so far, and it was more than enough to win him over. Removing the idle confusement from his face he adopted a sincere smirk in its place, whilst the rest of him quite well complied to be lead like a sheep to slaughter. Upon exit he slung a glance and a subtle military salute to the cooks, almost forgetting to dug in the doorway, in mute thanks and respect for their superior skill. Heck, if they had been travel -or pocket- size he would've snatched one for himself.

    Once the garden loomed, a beacon of winter's chilly atmosphere between the colums, alight due the lack of roof, he embraced the air in a deep breath. Ah, the great outdoors. The day was only getting better and better. The enthusiasm had adhered to him, lifting spirits higher and leaving them floating to spheres of utter comfort and cheer, widening his smile inside out. If his guard hadn't been lowered to its lowest already, it might have just dropped further, entirely off the face of Soare. He gave the top of his head a gleeful brush, impressed hues glancing up at the skies and the blinding whiteness that filled his view, paleness reflected from everywhere around him. Marvelous.

    The Lady spoke of the shrubberies, plants and trees, keeping his attention captive. It wasn't so much for the words that he cared, but rather for whom was behind them, how they sounded like in their harmonius and dedicated legato, what did an inspired curve of lips look like upon their otherwordly beauty. The picture and context, entire scenario over individual detail. He quite enjoyed it all, nevermind the information was lost in him. Only Martin's brief appearance made him tear his focus away from Galena, though their babbling still plaid in the background like a narrative piano, melody heard and pleasing but hardly remembered. He gave the boy wink as they delivered their assignment, cheerful as ever. Such admirable quality, the pure joy and haste of youth.

    - ...grow things, and run in the woods, and drink mead.

    Why did he feel a little sting upon the last segment of their explanation? Were they... implying something, perhaps? Taking their Politess so far he didn't exactly expect anything as that having been meant, but either way it was almost like subtle judgement, masked into the foaming wake of an apology. He merely waved his hand at the thought, half a shrug pulling at his shoulders indecisively. What could he say? All they had just described was what his lifestyle was about, and had been for as long as he could remember. And if anything, he was not sorry for one bit, for in their inability to enjoy something similar, they were the one missing out an arseload. Of fun, mainly.

    And unsustainable relationships.

    He was left standing, frozen to his feet in marvel of the surrounding and general enjoyment, amidst the limited fragment of a landscape. The Lady's expression of strange counter-interest lassoed his hues in a glance after a pause, at which point he came familiar with their new spot of inhabitance. They seemed to be shaping something. Curious as of what this sculpting was to produce, he turned on his heel to better direct an inspectorial stare, humming in ponder as some vague answer struggled to form within his head simultaneously. Story, story... Where to begin, where proper to end, so to not reveal the condescending facts...

    Decisions.

    " Is not a special one, for a story at least. Quite the usual... " He begun, distancing for a brief to pour himself a cup of mead in an impulse. " Been a hunter all my life, trade taught by my late old man. Did some soldiering for the feudal lords in between though, like is some family tradition I guess. They always in need of some odd hired blade... " A swig. " Now am back at bein' a humble huntsman, part-time sellsword and wanderer too. Left the duty a few years ago ya see. They said I had a problem... " The sentence died out into a mutter, upon which he refilled his cup and rotated in his place, facing Galena anew.

    " Didn't say what it was, them commanders, but I know they meant my looks. " His tone perched back to its usual, regaining the edge of never-ending jest, seriousness dissolving. For greater effect, he slung his free hand to smooth the top of his head, grinning as endearingly as he could. Genius, now please do continue with further evasion, master grinsman. His wrapped step glided back then, if a bit slowed down on purpose and accompanied by a faint snicker.

    From above, through the open path to the dwell of clouds, descended a familiar bird. It came down like a ghost, or a wisp of bleached smoke, noticable only when its clawed feet came in contact with the snow. But of course, he had become aware of its approach some time ago already. Took yer time, didn't ya. It bounced twice on the garden floor, snow creaking faintly, windspan fluttering as it sought the best way to fold its plumes.

    " Meet Moln. A friend and companion. " He gestured at the bird. " Moln, meet Galena Barillus. " And the other way around. How very formal. Satisfied with his way around introductions, he sipped on the mead all rugged gentlemanlike whilst setting himself standing opposite from Galena as they tinkered on the ground.

    What he saw upon the renewed examination both surprised and delighted him, in an extent of twenty on the scale of one to ten.

    Preferences upon the great natural outdoors, delicious food and drink, sharpened weaponry and even bears as it had just come out... What sort of fantasy world of his had this woman just spawned from?
    He brought a hand to caress his cheek and beard, feigning a silent contemplation in order to hide his hideously pleased and somewhat plotting smile. A conspiratorial look shot to the owl, its white form fluttering about the bench, inspectorial towards the mead. Instinctively, its golden orbs were drawn to meet his, questioning strangely evident upon the generally expressionless avian face.

    A soundless whisper escaped from his lips in mere forms, words shaping behind the palm set before his mouth as if in covering of awe. In a way, it was just that, but with a way more secretive edge.

    ' Moln, jag har blivit förälskad. Rädda mig... '

    To his disappointment, but hardly surprisement, the owl did nothing to honour his request. Or well, not the definite of it, for its power reached not into his head exactly. It did however, make a little move on the Lady themselves, flapping to examine their sculpture -with some desire over picking out the berries- and bounce around the hems of their dress. Good boy.

    " Ya fond of wildlife then, eh? That is pretty accurate bear right there. " He crouched down to one knee, index inclined at their artistic property.


    // - ' Cloud, I'm in love. Save me...'
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    Galena
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    Thy sins, paid in blood...

    She was glad that he didn't mind her touching the ax, uninvited as it was. Some people got real touchy if others wished to make such contact, though personally she'd never been so bothered with someone laying hands on her bow, or the skinny razors she carried on her person. It varied from person to person, but contact in all its forms had never really meant the same sort of things to her as it might have had she grown up in Morrim. A fleeting touch of fingers on the back of a hand, the flutter of a fan and coy smiles half hidden, lowered lashes and twinkling eyes...well there were such intricacies in Soto too, but people were much freer with their behavior, she felt. Yet none so free as Angkar, she though with a smile.

    She half thought to comment on his extended silence, then thought better of it. Not to say she liked the tall mysterious type but he was setting a good example so far. Maybe he was just overwhelmed by the high ceilings and columns, as she had been the first time she came to the Homeland. It had all felt like it would fall on her head in a moment, but of course had not. That people could create such things from stone and earth was incredible, and she felt a momentary pride for them, and for her trying to meld it with nature. It had, she thought, been successful in some areas, though she could not entirely allow it to overtake the entire house. Not if she wanted to still hold parties and entertain people. They'd think her too eccentric if she did that.

    Or maybe his lack of words was that he detested her idle, banal chatter and the way she prodded him about the house to view such things. She'd not really stopped to consider it, and troubled, flicked her mossy gaze towards him. No, she was being stupid. He seemed...content, satisfied to be standing up to the ankles in snow with a cup of mead in hand.
    It suited him, and the smile that never seemed to leave his face threatened to crack his head in two. The thought made her chuckle, a low sultry sound as she shook her head imperceptibly.

    She glanced up once as she shaped a lump into the head, added a handful for the snout and wrung her hands in the folds of her stola to warm her fingers briefly before she continued. Distracted as he was, it gave her a moment to really look, past the fine golden hair, her eyes picking out the coarseness of his braided beard, the strength of jaw beneath, thunderous brows and eyes that, for all their glacial colour, like the ice trapped within a crevasse as the sun lit it, were warm and perhaps a touch inviting, clouded now with remembrance. Yes, the cold suited him. He wore it like any noble with his mantle of fur, the paleness complimented his colouring, made his orbs positively scream their vivacity.

    Her smile was a touch rueful as she burbled a laugh at his jest, tucking her hands under her armpits. Really should have worn gloves if one was to stick their hands into the snow so much. But she was ever impulsive, and it was so pretty, pure and unbroken...she didn't understand the wish to - on seeing a smooth fresh blanket of snow - fling herself into it and throw it into the air, to utterly ruin the perfection like any willful child. It was probably that she never would, and didn't care either. Such wild impulses made her what she was.
    "Verily, I expect that if thee shouldst keep so many wanton girls about, all silence and chance of a surprise wouldst be lost. Not to mention the great distraction..."

    Her teeth flashed in a sharp little grin, wiped clean away when the white shadow dropped so silently to the ground.
    "Just Galena." She murmured, her eyes wide and wondering of the creature. Only from a distance had she seen them, ghosting over fields, buildings and trees alike, eyes alight with green and yellow fire in the darkness.
    "The pleasure is all mine, Ser Moln."
    Smiling she dipped a low curtsy to the bird, not really sure what to expect, but full of mirth for the little ceremony. It didn't seem so out of place in the garden, and it was no less honor than she would have done with Siskin, nor any other valued companion of a friend.

    "Do you always hunt with your ax? Or do you shoot, and trap as well? I have a bow, if you'd like to shoot targets."
    She took a measured step back from the snow bear, head canted to one side as she surveyed it with some small pleasure. The fluttering about her skirts bought her attention earthwards, and with genuine delight she snatched up a handful of the bright red berries and knelt in the snow, scattering them before Moln.
    "Oh yes." Her hues danced to meet his, lips skewing in a grin not quite so ladylike. "There is quite a large bear in mine garden. He sleeps now, but in the spring he will wake again. It is not really a secret, but he is my friend, and I wouldst rather he was not hunted for sport by the nobility or somesuch."
    She scooped another handful of snow, carefully shaping it as she spoke. "His name is Siskin, like the little yellow birds, for he hath a pale stripe on his back."
    She screwed up her face, squinting at the ball in her hand, then held it up for his inspection.
    "There master Etherone, what doth thou think of..that?"
    A fiendish glitter in her eye, she smushed the snowball into his nose, then darted to her feet with a peal of childish laughter. Call it the close proximity to her tree but it was bringing out the nymph in her. Galena hitched her skirts up with one hand, baring a length of ivory leg before she skipped around the holly bush and ducked out of sight, hurriedly scooping up another handful, then peeping over the top in his direction, a frown wrinkling between her eyes. The game was on.
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    Etherone
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    Hear that, Moln? You are a Ser. This woman has clearly lost it.

    His stare lingered upon them, focused on the external and its little quirks, so intensely examinant that he nearly forgot to listen. And notice that he indeed had been questioned in one of his favourite topics, once again.

    Axes.

    " Aye, I do shoot and trap, like any jägare. The axe isn't much for that sorta thin', in means of catchin' the prey anyway. " He tapped Argsint. " I keep it with me mainly as precaution, self-defense and all that. Is quite the versatile tool, from choppin' logs to splittin' skulls, my favourite. " A wide grin and a shallow snicker, punctuated by a wink. Their favour upon archery surprised him none, for leaderly figures were often required to hone an amount of ability at arms, men and women alike. As of their size and delicate structures marksmanship certainly was more than fitting for their means of fulfilling the needed bracket, thought he suspected there being more than one skill that provided for it all too, if only unseen and unspoken.

    Political wit, fae powers and ranged weaponry, all compressed to one. Now that was a target, if anything.

    The fact that they were a keeper of a domestic bear caught him strangely off guard, yet it explained some of the detail upon their miniature interpretation. His look rotated instictively betwixt sentences to scan the edges of the current scape, as if he wished to catch a glance of this fabled beast Siskin by some miracle or awaited it to just explode into the scene from behind the distant pillars. Heck, he had to keep reminding himself that this indeed was not the great outdoors in infinite actuality, rather a framed picture with simulated flora and limited fauna. Certainly they didn't let bears indoors, did they?

    He returned at the indirect request and concern, watching in utmost attention from under his brow, a facet of honest seriousness muting his smile. Guess he was one of these somesuches then, for to any kind of nobility he certainly did not belong.

    " Fear not fer yer friend, Galena, as my hunt will not reach yer garden. " An index extended to draw a circle in the snow, around their pictorial sculpture, to enforce his meaning. " Besides... is not my way to march about killin' bears. I rather respect them, think them my Kin, somewhat. " Also, they are fun to wrestle with. A near snicker looped his expression back to its usual grin, his retaliation a hasty swig of mead and aversion of gaze, hues dipping to inspect the ground idly. He stroked his beard, refreshing his insight upon the half full state of his cup, Moln's cloudy form fluttering at the corner of his vision.

    A questioning drew him back a mere moment later, just in time for his face to catch what was coming for it. All he managed was a scattered half of the disoriented word 'what', until it all went terribly white and then furtherly black as he recoiled. He fell to his rump from the strudy squat in a cheerful slosh and a muffled yelp, hoisting a palm in reflex to grace his face and rid it from a quite the impressive amount of frost. A blink and a quick refresh of the surrounding pointed out two crucial things; the lady had disappeared and he had spilled his mead. Deserted by both a quality damsel and a tasty drink, as per usual. Such a tragedy.

    " Rah! I'll get ya for that, ya hear me, qvinna!" He roared out, in feigned aggravation, setting the drained cup next to the snowbear. A smirk split his face slowly, chilly gaze afloat in search of his opponent as he collected himself back to bipedal, patting snow off his arsenal. A set of prints dotted the blanketed dirt, trails old and new for him to reason, though his intention wasn't to exactly track them out. He figured he wouldn't have to, if he plaid the game right.

    " If ya come out now I can forgive ya. Promise... " Not. His hand slinged to scoop up a hefty pile of cold, cupped palms shaping it as he taunted the hidden, hums of amusement bending his breath. Sooner than late, another shot was fired, announcing itself to the back of his head. A resonant, victorious bellow with an overtone of general laughter escaped him then, in a version of the popular 'ah-ha!', and he spun on his heel to respond with a projectile of his own.

    " Ya in trouble now, lady! " He started, sidestepping to evade what had taken aim upon him once again. Like a rogue he kept his head down and sprinted, towards the holly bush that had begun sprouting some serial fire of the freezing kind, hardly doing so out of its own accord.

    Unless it was sentient like those darn trees outside. He surely hoped against such a suspicion, if only for the safety of the said brush.

    " Oeah! Stanna, du lilla bråkmakare! " A shout went to the distancing back of the newly mobile as he slipped past the branches, sliding a bit on the frozen ground as his momentum wished not to obey his sudden halt and rearrangement of direction. In the wake of a minor stumble he finally initiated another leap after the hunted, in attempt of snatching their dainty form to his arms, whichever way they were to submit to it. He spun in his place, concluding to a halt, satisfied glare connecting with their hues, all adorned by a painfully self-assured glee. A sharp exhale left him, upwards from the corner of his mouth to correct the scattered wisps that hindered his vision.

    " Now... Ya mentioned target practice. " A pause, in steadying of accelerated breath. " As comes out I am also quite the sniper, not boastin' or anythin' even, so what say ya fer a little contest? A challenge, if ya may. "
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    Galena
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    Thy sins, paid in blood...

    It amused her to see how his eyes skated past her briefly to search the edges of the inner garden, as though they might offer some glimpse of potential danger, despite the knowledge that Siskin was in hibernation. She wondered what he was thinking, if the bear came lumbering out of the bushes right there and then, what his reaction might be? It struck her that he might take an axe to it, but then, he might not too. She was leaning towards the latter, after seeing how he obviously cared for the owl hopping around innocently enough.

    A moment later it was confirmed when he drew the protective mark around her snow-bear. She eyed him as he did so, his concentration evident, mind wandering to the likeness in that...how was he like a bear? Strong? Certainly, temper? Perhaps...hairy? Well...hmm..

    His quizzical look upon her ungracefully mashing the snow into his face, falling heavily to his rump and dropping his drink, was enough to set a high fiendish giggle tumbling from her lips, silvery and full of glee. She hoped he wasn't too put out about the mead, there was enough that more could be fetched if he still wanted it after their silly game.

    For a moment she started, thought he was genuinely angry, til that telltale smirk returned. Another type of game then, to add to their current one!

    Come out now?

    Now why would she do that? The game would be over all too soon, and the fun drawn out of it all too quickly. An impish grin pulled her bow lips into an expression of coy joviality, and she ducked behind the bush, crawling away until she thought herself under cover enough to stand. One hand trailing on the thick trunk of the dormant neroli, she leaned her weight clear and swung slowly, pacing to the other side, and flicked her snowball at the back of his head with unerring aim.

    Another tinkling laugh burst ingloriously from her lips as it struck, saw him jerk and shudder as the ice worked its way beneath his collar. So rude, for a host to play such tricks on a guest. He was game however, and she wasn't to deny her nature longer if he was so eager to join in. The sudden return fire caught her off guard, snow thudding off her shoulder and eliciting a shrill squeal as she ducked behind her chosen guardian of a tree, returning to her previous spot behind the holly, in hopes to disorient him.

    Her next shot missed, hit the ground harmlessly and exploding into a dazzle of frost. She was more concerned with the golden-haired woodsman, now hurtling at breakneck speed at her position. The nymph rose, skittered backwards on the slippery ground as he charged right through the bush, hardly even taking the moment to be dismayed by the carelessness. What if he scratched himself? Holly was hardly the most forgiving of plants.
    Exhilaration and surprise caught her as surely as this Mister Frej, and she found herself almost swept from her feet, turning a giddy circle on the ice, fingers bunching in his shirt for balance as she was tilted back and grasped firmly.

    A bright laugh popped from her lips, eyes crinkling with mirth, heart pounding with excitement like a foolish girl. Ah but she could be that, every now and then, and he was so very close, panting breath mingling, the heat of his form almost a physical aura, til blood rushed to her cheeks on her settling laughter.
    "A contest? Ah but a contest doth warrant a reward, and what, pray tell, didst thou hath in mind for that?"
    One hand lifted to smooth the fluttering threads from his brow back into neatness, and she swallowed tightly, righting herself in his arms and taking the moment to lean her fragile weight against his while she caught her breath.
    "The desire of thine heart? As much mead as thy appetite can handle?"
    She laughed again, softer this time, and extracted herself from the warm circle of his arms, wriggling her toes to bring some of the sensation back into them. She really ought to put on stouter boots if she was to go running in the snow.

    "If thou wouldst wait here, I shall fetch mine bow."
    Barely waiting for an acceptance of her statement, she lifted her skirts and exited the small garden, taking off up the stairs hurriedly, sandals slapping noisily on each step ascended. On reaching her rooms she barely halted to shuck off her stola, letting it pool on the floor behind her in a trail of fabric until she reached her wardrobe, where she paused only to unlace her footwear and find more appropriate clothing.
    Clad in doeskin breeches, blouse and waistcoat, she hopped around ludicrously tugging on knee-high boots. On leaving she snatched up a thick hooded coat of pale wolfskin, the ears still attached to the hood, and her bow so casually lying across the cluttered desk, quiver dangling from the chair-back.

    On impulse, she smirked on reaching the stairs, then climbed the banister and whooped like a cackling hyena as she descended, waving her bowstave over her head. Good thing her staff were used to her random moments of indignity, anyone else might have scolded her for the foolishness.
    "Master Frej! Are you ready?"
    In sweeping the banister with her backside, the air had forced her hood up, ears pointing jauntily and alertly forward.
    "Let us away to the garden and find something to shoot!"
    With that, she snatched at his hand and laughingly skirted back through the kitchens and right out the door into the snow, woodsman in tow.
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