Sylva. Why not? It had a tendency to attract the ones who would rather lurk in darkness, beneath the moldy canopy - but Leilan himself had never been held captive here, so why should he feel uneasy with the place. Sure it hadn’t got anything to do with his own time in Loess. Or with the way Jesper still refused to talk about it, the way the black stallion would avoid going into forests in autumn for a long while.

No, nowadays - especially nowadays - he should be rather happy with Sylva’s ever-autumn - the water-cold forest provided enough of a climate that he could use his magic, even though it would be stronger in winter or on the Isle. And he had to make sure he scoured every inch of Beqanna, too, so...

Why not?

Something pearlescent catches his eye when he moves forward beneath the trees, and he remembers why he never came here. She never did quite appreciate his attempts to lighten her mood that day when she had found herself nearly incapacitated with a certain large tree appendage. One she still carried today, he found.

He approaches her - she would find out if he went around her, and he never did play avoidance tactics anyhow. ”I’ve got to say, the more you stick to it, the more it becomes you.” he muses aloud. ”You never got rid of it then?” Was it that hard to do - it was a magical thing, true, he can sense it now, but still; there had to be some misfortunate soul that she could have passed the thing on to.