<font color=teal>“So many questions,” he laughs without answering them. He places the pot and her pouch on a small table next to her chair and the cup in her hands – “Be quiet and drink.” As she begins to sip the tea, he returns to her questions. “Maria will be fine and, with luck, her children will not see too much of the effect of this upon her. You do your work very well,” he smiles. “The barkeep and the others are weak, but their health is in no further danger. There minds, however, are another matter ......”

“...... Fortunately,” he smiles, “it seems that they are uncertain enough about me that my presence has been sufficient to distract them from more genuine horrors.”</font>

<font color=silver>From the bar area – Bartleby: “But can’t the lad be doin’ anything that don’t require thunder and wind and me doors flyin’ offa their hinges?!? Is a bit of pleasant weather too damn much to be askin’ for?” -- Despite the bluster there is a real nervousness about his voice.</font>

<font color=teal>“As for my hands,” he brushes her hair from her eyes as he continues, “they are fine.”</font>

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<font color="skyblue">She smiles at him, listening as she sips her tea. She brushes one gloved hand over his cheek, and silently thanks him. She cocks her head, and bursts into giggles as she overhears the barkeep, and pours herself another cup, adding the ingredients from the pouch. "Would you like some? I promise it won't do anything to you, other than taste too sweet, maybe..." Her stomach growls, and she looks him in the eye quickly, her cheeks glowing red. Her eyes have retrieved their faint glow, and she looks horrified at this betrayal of her body. "I think we need to find something to eat, and a room....." ~she starts laughing softly at the look on his face~ "I will want "dessert", and we need to rest and figure out what to do next. And we don't need prying ears to hear....."</font>

<font color=teal>He takes the cup from her hand takes a sip of the tea. It is not entirely unpleasant, but the taste is so ..... "Sweet," he says with only a slight grimace. Laughing, he hands the cup back to her.

"So many hungers about you today, woman," he smiles, caressing her cheek. He allows his touch to linger a moment along the curve of her chin, "We shall see to them each in turn, then ...." He leaves her to rest while he seeks the bartender.</font>

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<font color="lime">THE MOUNTAIN RANGE

The air shimmers near an ancient cave opening, and a figure slowly emerges as if from nowhere. The Fay're looks around.....She walks towards the cave, but is stopped 30 feet from the entrance. She frowns, looking down then screams in frustration.......the mountains shake with a Fay're scream earthquake, the ground rumbling and shaking with tremors for hours afterwards....

~She glares at the rune markings in the stone at her feet, but cannot cross. She looks to the sky thinking, and turns around re-entering the shimmering space and slowly disappears, as her whisper floats down the mountain..........~</font>

<font color="cyan">~Sooon............sooon the rest of the seals will break, and the other three Forsaken will be released......released to cause destruction once again......sooon...........oh yes................~</font>

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<font color="skyblue">There is a sudden howling of wolves thru-out the forest, as they feel their sister's return. They hid in their dens when the "Wind that takes souls" (as they call it) came. They also feel the presence of a two-legged that has been marked by their Goddess, and very softly welcome him in his mind. They quickly leave his mind tho, so the Wind will not feel them, but they are there long enough for Cyril to feel the warmth of their touch......</font>

<font color="skyblue">As she waits while Cyril tries to get them a room, and something to eat, she walks over to the single window in the room, and looks out. She stares at the forest, listening carefully to the messages the wolves are sending her. They tell her everything they can about the last couple of days, and also ask her where she was, who this two-legged is, should they guard the tavern for her? On, and on....She laughs, the questions coming as fast as the messages.....She patiently answers each one, making sure she talks to each one in turn. When they are done, she sets them to watching the tavern out of sight, and sighs. Leaning against the windowsill, she becomes immersed in her thoughts, glancing back occasionally to check on Maria.........</font>

OOC: i will no longer be making any posts on this thread. Sorry guys.

ooc: Bummer, Shadowhound ....

**Also replaced post on previous page.

ic: <font color=skyblue>Bartleby

“Ach! No I says. ‘Tis no way I’ll be lettin’ the two of ye be using another o’ me rooms! Why for all I be knowin, it’ll be more stormin’ and blowin’ and destroyin’ me walls and scatterin’ me furniture betwixt the building and the forest. No, I be tellin’ ye. And ye'd best be knowin' that there ain’t a blessed thing on this green earth that can make me change me mind once it’s been made up!” He stomps his foot for emphasis.</font>

<font color=white>A very brief negotiation later ....</font>

<font color=skyblue>Tossing the pouch idly and gauging the amount of coin by its heft, he wonders about a previous character assessment. ~ Aye, perhaps I might’ve been a wee bit hasty .... could be the lad ain’t such a bad fella after all. ~ “Yes, sir, everything will certainly be as ye’ve said. And no, ye needn't be worrying overly much if the winds be gettin' a little strong .....”</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Cyril has also made arrangements regarding future accommodations here.</font>

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<font color=teal>He has opened the shutters around the window to their fullest extent and stands, savoring the open air. He tenses suddenly, feeling an intrusion upon his thoughts. Once again he must check his violent defensiveness in order to receive the warmth of friend's greeting. ~ This is definitely going to require some adjustment ... Such a busy and social place her mind must be! ~ He smiles a moment imagining the animated conversations that must take place within her.

"Speaking of greetings ....," he whispers as he removes the locket from around his neck. “How long has it been, child? How long since last I placed you on my shoulders, carried you with me and spoke your name in the tongue of our people?” He offers a silent prayer over her smile before gently closing the locket and returning it to its place around his neck. He breathes deeply in the open air and lingers a few silent moments by the window. He returns to the first floor to find KayLisa, smiling as Tim hurries up the stairs carrying their dinner.</font>

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<font color="skyblue">~She is thinking of the visions she had...particularly the one of her home destroyed. She continues to stare out the window, vaguely hearing Cyril and the barkeep dealing about the room.........Her eyes glow a soft purple/silver as she thinks, and her mind becomes a tulmult of images........~</font>

<font color=teal>He sees Bartleby hovering around the entrance to the room looking in at Maria. Quietly he approaches the man and places a hand upon his shoulder. “She will sleep for some time, but she will be fine.” Moving past the startled barkeep he enters the room and stands quietly watching KayLisa. He grows very still himself, attentive to the stirrings in the air near the open window and smiles as he marks the slow and measured rhythm of her breathing. He exhales a greeting that she has not yet learned to feel and moves quietly toward her. He distracts her from her thoughts by gathering her hair in his hand and drawing it aside that he might kiss the back of her neck. As she turns toward him, he places his fingers over her lips. “One hunger at a time,” he smiles. "Come, the room and the meal are ready."</font>

<font color="skyblue">A shiver runs thru her as he kisses her neck, and all thoughts fly out the window with the cool afternoon breeze. She chuckles softly and turns, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. "Lead on, my dear......lead on". As they turn to go to the room, she stops by Maria, and leans down, placing a kiss on her forehead....~sleep, Maria. Sleep and be well~. She straightens and places her gloved hand back on Cyril's shoulder, kissing his cheek. She smiles mysteriously at the barkeep and winks as they pass him. "She will be very hungry when she awakens, it will not be too long before she does." Her eyes glow again, in anticipation of food and more, and she smiles again. She will need nourishment of body and soul, before she starts the tedious task of their current situation............</font>

<font color="lime">The wolves watch the tavern from the safety of the trees, watching every movement, noting each leaf as it falls. The Alpha female keeps watch by the waterfall, uneasy but vigilant. She patiently waits while her two-legged sister and the two-legged with her do whatever two-legged's do ~she laughs silently~, awaiting to show them where the evil one appeared..........</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Tries to adequately describe whatever it is that two-leggeds do.</font> :D

<font color=teal>There is much to discuss, but they eat in silence. He has never been one to move quickly from silence to speech, and is grateful that she does not seem to mind this silent sitting together without words. He adjusts his chair so that he might watch the colors of sunset play across her hair as she finishes her meal. She smiles at him manifesting that curious back and forth of the playful and the serious in the expressiveness of her face that he is learning to enjoy. He moves to the open window as she finishes, and waits for her to join him.

“Nothing, it is said among my people, is so beautiful as sunfall after a storm .....” Touching the curve of her chin, he turns her face to his, “..... present company excepted, of course.” He kisses her gently and then takes her hands, pressing his palms against hers. He smiles at the surprise in her eyes, “Life and flame move through these hands even as life and wind move through mine. Let us see what happens then, when flame touches wind.” He caresses her cheek as he draws her against himself, savoring the warmth of her closeness. “Bartleby and I have reached an .... understanding ...... about acceptable wind speeds inside the building,” he smiles as the sun warmed air begins to move around them.</font>

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[img]graemlins/saywhat.gif[/img]
~ Larry closes his eyes and sings a gospel tune. ~

ooc:no pressure :D

<font color="skyblue">She melts into his embrace, flame mixing with wind, her eyes are a solid purple glow as she looks him straight in the eyes once, then leans her head back closing them, surrendering herself to the winds.........and to him........</font>


<font color="lime">~Wolves howl in the woods, the sound eerily sounding comforting, a sound that melts into the wind, blowing softly thru the leaves, stirring them ever so gently..........~</font>


<font color="skyblue">She smiles up at him, her eyes reflecting her soul and her thoughts as she stares at him. "Wind and fire......" she whispers to him..........</font>

<font color=silver>MARIA

She begins to stir, unaware of the activity the slight movement of her hands has set into motion. Her breathing now strong and regular and the warmth and color returned to her body, she awakens, unsure at first where she is. The rattle of plates and utensils on a tray claims her attention and she turns to see Bartleby hurrying into the room with a light meal. “Sure’n it’s about time ye be wakin’, woman! Why, slept the whole day through, ye have." A distinct note of relief lies just below his bluster.</font>

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<font color="skyblue">She leans against the wall, casually wrapping his cloak around her, and reaches for a cup of wine. She stares silently at him a moment, drinking in everything she sees, as if she were a colt standing by a crystal-clear stream, seeing its reflection in the water, afraid to disturb the flow, lest it lose the beauty of the moment. She smiles softly at him, as she raises the cup to her mouth.

She grimaces at the taste, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Ugh, what I wouldn't give for some good elven made Elderberry wine...". She takes another sip nonetheless, and smiles at Cyril, waiting for her heart to calm down. ~she is amazed that she is not trying to hide the runes on her body from him, and her eyes glow softly....~

She looks towards the fireplace, and stares at the silver plate sitting on top of the mantle. She reaches to Cyril absently, and gives him a kiss, and slowly stands up, the cloak sliding to the floor softly pooling at her feet. She doesn't notice as she walks towards the plate, and grasps it in two shaking hands, staring at her reflection in the silver........."My....my eyes........".....</font>

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<font color=teal>To live is to move and such beauty lies within her movements. ~ He watches her noting the nuances of her gestures and the cadences hidden within her stillness. She moves toward him and he feels her kiss even before it reaches his lips and that has not happened since .....</font>

<font color=silver>“My ..... my eyes .....”</font> <font color=teal>The sudden tensing of her body and her words dispel his own thoughts. He shifts his position, ready to move toward her but waits unsure of what has caused her to tremble.

“..... are beautiful.” He silently completes her sentence, breathing the words into the echos of hers. He stills himself and waits for the syllables with which she will finish her own statement.</font>

<font color="skyblue">Her hands slowly stop shaking, and she stares in amazement at her eyes in the reflection....."Purple, when did they turn purple?"......She tilts her head, almost catching a whisper in the air, and sets the plate back on the mantle, turning around. She finds him staring at her, and she looks down, a blush creeping up her cheeks, but amusement slowly showing in her eyes. "They are silver/purple now.....I wonder what that means?"

She smiles at him, and bends down picking up his cloak, draping it around her, and sits next to him. "Why didn't you tell me?" She smiles, over the shock now, and caresses his cheek. "I think its time we made plans..........."...She picks up one of his hands, and places it in her lap, smiling. "Where do we start?"...</font>

<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>

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<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>

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<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>

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<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>

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