<font color=teal>He touches her cheek with his left hand, turning her face that he might look into her eyes. “The color suits you,” he smiles. “What could I have told you?” he laughs, “Despite how deeply our lives have touched these last few days, it has been but a few days. I am still unsure how to tell the difference between what is mysterious and new with you, from that which is simply and mysteriously you.” His touch moves to her hair, “The mysteriousness, I suspect, will always be present.”

“Liath Madadh-allaidh – you have not yet finished the tale you began as we rode upon the winds this morning. I still do not know what it is about this tavern that has drawn you here.” His touch returns to her cheek. “Nor, do I know the nature of the hope you spoke of before you began your tale. Hope gives rise to movement – and my hopes now move with yours - to know our hopes is to know our direction.”</font>

<font color="skyblue">She leans back against him, taking comfort in his nearness and warmth. She frowns slightly, "I'm not quite sure why I came to this particular tavern, other than I had a feeling. Or vision if you wish. I came looking for an elven bladesinger, I thought. But now I believe I was brought here to find you. Prophecies can be so vague sometimes, but you are definitely the one. The wind and storm to my fire and lightning. Somehow are curses were meant to be entwined to resolve both. And I'm afraid that makes things all the more harder to understand. Right now, I think we need to go downstairs, though, and see if the barkeep needs any help, and I need to go outside out of these walls. Would you like to take a walk with me, and I'll try to work this out as we walk.........."</font>

<font color=teal>He smiles reflexively at the very thought of an elf as a creature of wind and storm. He quickly grows serious again unsure of what to make of her language of prophecy and destiny. ~ So different the ways of this place and its people .... this belief that tomorrow has somehow been already scripted – so cruel their gods if this is true for them .... how could an outsider god have meant for her to find me? ~ His hand rises to the mark upon his forehead, the sign of an outsider god, of her god[s]. What could this possibly mean for him? His attention turns to the woman reclining in his arms. ~ Destiny claims her and she claims me, and my life is shaped within the violent freedom of storm and the violent freedom of my life has opened to receive her. More than wind and flame have met in our embrace – destiny and defiance, it seems, are bound together here, even as she now has a name among my people and I in hers. ~ He pulls her tightly against himself unsure of what his gesture means, certain only that it is right to make it, that what matters is the meeting of their lives. He simply holds her, then, for a few moments. But he, too, would find relief from the confining walls of this building. “Let us go, then,” he says quietly, “and later I would learn something of this god whose mark I now bear.”</font>

ooc: TAO - Tending to the needs of the others in the tavern should be a fairly simple and straightforward matter, none of them have psychic wounds anywhere near as extensive as Maria's were. Cyril's request can be answered offscreen in a PM if you'd prefer.

[ 03-07-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]</p>

<font color="skyblue">She follows him downstairs, and immediately notices they are not needed. She winks at Cyril, and guides him towards the door, and the fresh air outside.

She stops and inhales deeply, letting the earthy smells enter her lungs, and smiles. "I would like to walk for awhile if you don't mind, and I will try to fill you in some more. I need to feel the breeze blowing amongst the trees, touch the rough bark, ground myself you might say...." She laughs quietly, and grasps his hand. </font>

[ 03-07-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]</p>

<font color=teal>“Of course I do not mind,” he smiles and responds to her clasp of his hand with a gentle pressure of his fingers around hers. “I know the feeling well .....” The tenor of her voice and her breathing here have told him much already and he is pleased to see this familiar delight of hers in the forest – so much like his own love of the hard stone and moving air of his native mountains.

He stops her before they can leave the building, however, asking her to wait a moment while he speaks with Maria. After a few moments of conversation, he walks with Maria to where Shadowhound has been sitting. As the half-elf gathers his belongings and Maria returns to her duties, he rejoins KayLisa in the doorway. “Lead the way,” he smiles.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: :D One last errand for Shadowhound as he leaves ....</font>

[ 03-07-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]</p>

<font color="skyblue">They come to a clearing in the woods near a quiet stream. The wind blows gently scattering leaves hither and fro, and she leads him to an old rock, and sits upon it staring at the stream. "As for the mark on your forehead, it is the rune FEHU, the protection rune. It has been placed there by the madadh-allaidh spiorad and the God Manannan Mac Lir."

She sighs, and looks at him, trying to find the common words to explain....She raises a hand to his cheek, and continues, "Manannan Mac Lir, or also called Manawydan ap Llyr is a shapeshifting God of magic, navigators, storms, rebirth, and weather. He is my spiorad treoraich, and a shapeshifting God." She gives him a wry smile, hoping she does not need words to explain this smile, hinting to the fact that he is a "storm God" and a "shapeshifting God".

"When I was cursed, he sent one of his na muice from Tuatha De Danann to make me immortal, so I could fulfill the prophecy, and break the curse on the sword, thereby breaking my curse. He marked you, because you are part of the prophecy, and before you ask, no I don't know how or why. All I know is you are the wind and storm that is needed. na geamhraidhean madadh-allaidh, to break the curse on the sword, I must find a way to destroy the souls kept in the blade, and return the sword to its original power. These are things I have yet to figure out." She stops, and reaches into her cloak, pulling out a small flask, and her eyes flash at him. She opens the stopper and takes a small sip, offering him the flask. "It is the last of my elven wine, would you like some?".

She stares off into the distance for awhile, listening to the sounds of the forest, aware of the wolves slowly circling the grove. She marks each one, as they lay down just out of sight, listening to her voice as she talks of prophecy. They are soothed by the sound of her voice, and as they listen they gather information only as wolves can of the two-legged that they now know is tied to them...........
She pats his thigh, and looks at her gloved hands.........and wonders if she should continue..............</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Overstimulated mind filling with all sorts of plot ideas already ....</font>

<font color=teal>For a few moments there is a distant look on his face as she speaks – there is movement and breathing under the trees surrounding the clearing and he would understand it. He smiles noting the manner in which the wolves gather around them ~ They take my measure even as I take theirs. ~ Still, her words are not lost to him and his attentiveness sharpens considerably at the mention of a shapeshifting god of storms – Manannan Mac Lir, he will not forget this name. He waits until she finishes speaking and looks at her in silence for a few moments weighing his own words. “If this is so ......” he falls silent again at the impact of what she has said. His face darkens with unwanted memory at her mention of destroying souls and it takes some effort to recompose himself. He accepts the wine from her, savoring its taste as he looks at her and returning the flask to her hands. “If this is so, then your god has chosen his agent well,</font><font color=silver>[Cyril is referring to KayLisa]</font><font color=teal>” he says touching her cheek, “for I bring what he cannot command. If this is so .....” Again he falls silent in thought and waits for her to continue.</font>

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<font color="skyblue">She sees his reaction, and feels the tightening of his muscles, and she flinches. She accepts the flask back, and can't help but lean into the hand he places on her cheek. She sighs, the feeling of his reaction stronger, and she looks at the ground....~should she go on?~She seems to fight within herself for quite a long time, and fidgets for awhile, trying to decide if she should continue or not, and how to tell him of the Fay're, and what this means...............”I .... I will try to explain this the best I can……”~she looks at him out of the corner of her eye, and moves off a little bit, sitting on the ground, staring at nothing..........~

She finally looks up, staring at the movement of the leaves….”There are four Forsaken. I will try to explain them one at a time, and then what will happen if all four are released.” She stares at her hands again, seeing the runes through the gloves. ”And then I will explain the runes on my body…..”

She pauses, then continues softly, barely speaking above a whisper...

“The ceud (first) of the Forsaken is Aine. She is held under the Valley Tower in Mirwall by 6 rune wards and a feur spiorad a chlach (grass spirit stone). Some think she was the daughter of Manannan. The stone, Cathair Aine, belongs to her, and you will lose your wits forever if you sit on it three times. She is very revengeful, and you don’t want to offend her. She was placed in the warding for luring men.”

“The darna (second) of the Forsaken is Aoibhell. She is held in the Desert of Shalmair by 6 rune wards and a an reul spiorad a chlach (star spirit stone). She is another of the Sidhe, and lived in Craig Liath. She bears a harp. If you hear this harp more than twice, you will not live much longer. The harp song is death.”

She pauses here, and closes her eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “I will continue in a moment, but I must stop, and let my throat rest..........”...</font>

[ 03-07-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]</p>

<font color=teal>He rises to his feet and stands quietly as she falls silent and covers her face. His eyes narrow and he speaks very softly in his own language and the air of this place grows still. Noting the surprised movements of the wolves, he turns to face each of them in turn, his eyes shining in harsh independence. Her name has been heard by those bound to my life. It is time her life sees me for what I am, he decides. His expression does not soften until he turns again to her. He walks with a swift quietness to where she sits and kneels beside her. “Sof’ya,” he says so that all ears present might hear and know his name for her, “Sof’ya ush’a ha’shama’im.” He reaches into a small pouch on his belt and withdraws a handful of snow white berries. He gently grasps her hands and pulls them from her face, holding them open as he places the berries upon her open palms – **the cold of the berries is noticeable even through her gloves**. “There is no hurry,” he whispers. “These will soothe your throat.” He turns her face toward his own and lightly touches her cheek. “Whether we pass this night in words or in silence, we shall pass it together.”</font>

[ 03-07-2002: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]</p>

<font color="skyblue">She slowly raises her head, the berries cold even through her gloves. She looks at them, then into his eyes. "thank you"she whispers, and puts only one in her mouth, letting it sit there. Even though she is reluctant to speak, but she continues anyway.........speaking slowly, in a whisper even though she wants to hurry through, and be done with it.......

“The tritheamh (third) of the Forsaken is Caillech. She is held in the Mountain Range of Truillah in a cave, by 6 runes and a an uamh spiorad a chlach (cave spirit stone). She is the goddess of disease and plague. You may have heard people around call her “Veiled One”, or “Old Crone”. She is accompanied by her gatekeeper dog, Dormarth (Death’s Door). She guarded the gate of Death, until she came out and started taking souls instead of waiting for them. She uses her dog to lure you to her.”

“The final and ceathramh (fourth) of the Forsaken is Fay’re. She was held behind the waterfall, in this place by 6 runes and a na tursachan (standing stone). She is the worst of the four, and is the one loose now. She can suck your soul by one touch, yet your body lives on, doing her bidding. She uses air to travel by forming a vortex or hole, and travels the ley lines of the earth. She will now try to loose the other three.”

She looks at him, her eyes glowing a soft purple, her eyes reflecting her feelings for him. “I will tell you the rest later. I have said enough for now, ~she shakes her head back and forth slowly, her hair catching the rays of light, sending the sparkles thru the silver streaks~, maybe too much............” She finishes in a whisper, and lays her head on her knees.....</font>

[ 03-07-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]

[ 03-07-2002: Message edited by: TAOWolf ]</p>