09-16-2020, 07:25 AM
Leilan
She's quick, and he supposes he's glad that she picked him first. Or, second, if one considers Pangea first. Regardless - patience just never was a strong suit of his, and had she taken years, he certainly would have lost interest in her personally.
He walks through the western forest, shrouded in the darkness that has clung to him since he first met Straia, or rather what's left of said forest on the Isle. Alone, because he likes to be at times; it is here he retreats to to avoid being asked a hundred thousand questions regarding politics. A Forest of Burnt Sticks, he'd dubbed it, and nobody had bothered to correct him. It's not entirely true any more, though. Castile's burning has been some years ago, and new sprouts have come up. It's mostly mosses and shrooms that benefit from the burning however, and before any tree regrows in full, it'll be twice that time. The rest of the cold island of the north seems to have benefited from the ashes, the grasses growing more thick and sturdy (and more tasteless than before). Nerine's meadows will do the same, he has no doubt.
The war, if it could be called that with mostly children running a place rampant, had indeed been rather pointless, but that was the nature of the one who'd started it. Nerine's foliage would regrow, and due to both himself and Heartfire not exploding parts of Nerine but of Pangea, there was only Beryl's Beach to patch up. Later.
His only true concern is the traceless departure of Brennen.
He moves with slow determination when she taps on his mind politely, dropping whatever part of the darkness that surrounded him earlier in the forest when he joins her. "Straia. Fancy a walk?" Most of his visitors do, giving their muscles the exercise they need to keep warm, and Leilan isn't particularly interested in remaining on the beach through all of their conversation. It could be short, pending her demands being reasonable or not, or might take longer than he likes to stand still in the same place. At any rate, perhaps she likes to see the tree.
He walks through the western forest, shrouded in the darkness that has clung to him since he first met Straia, or rather what's left of said forest on the Isle. Alone, because he likes to be at times; it is here he retreats to to avoid being asked a hundred thousand questions regarding politics. A Forest of Burnt Sticks, he'd dubbed it, and nobody had bothered to correct him. It's not entirely true any more, though. Castile's burning has been some years ago, and new sprouts have come up. It's mostly mosses and shrooms that benefit from the burning however, and before any tree regrows in full, it'll be twice that time. The rest of the cold island of the north seems to have benefited from the ashes, the grasses growing more thick and sturdy (and more tasteless than before). Nerine's meadows will do the same, he has no doubt.
The war, if it could be called that with mostly children running a place rampant, had indeed been rather pointless, but that was the nature of the one who'd started it. Nerine's foliage would regrow, and due to both himself and Heartfire not exploding parts of Nerine but of Pangea, there was only Beryl's Beach to patch up. Later.
His only true concern is the traceless departure of Brennen.
He moves with slow determination when she taps on his mind politely, dropping whatever part of the darkness that surrounded him earlier in the forest when he joins her. "Straia. Fancy a walk?" Most of his visitors do, giving their muscles the exercise they need to keep warm, and Leilan isn't particularly interested in remaining on the beach through all of their conversation. It could be short, pending her demands being reasonable or not, or might take longer than he likes to stand still in the same place. At any rate, perhaps she likes to see the tree.
I am the dragon
and you call me insane
and you call me insane
Image commissioned by Vanilla, made by AshesDrawn on DA
@[Straia]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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