Who is online?
In total there are 2 users online :: 0 Registered, 0 Hidden and 2 Guests

None

[ View the whole list ]


Most users ever online was 38 on Sat Nov 16, 2013 5:43 am
Latest topics
» Emerald Spire Session Notes
Fri Dec 01, 2017 1:39 pm by Magyc

» A Journal Bearing the Adventures of Pathfinders
Tue Nov 21, 2017 3:15 pm by Magyc

» The "Bored at work" thread
Fri Sep 15, 2017 2:08 am by Eddick the Steady (XIV)

» Draxthious' Father
Thu Aug 24, 2017 9:55 pm by MrPrettyPretty

» For What It's Worth (Adanedhel's Story)
Tue Jul 04, 2017 10:38 pm by The Sub-Creator

» Mother Knows Best
Fri Jun 16, 2017 10:49 pm by MrPrettyPretty

» 3rd Watch, In Which Drax and Elle Have Feelings
Mon May 29, 2017 2:58 pm by TRU

» Letters from Derrack
Sat May 13, 2017 3:47 pm by TRU

» Post Mortem Discourse
Fri Apr 21, 2017 11:21 pm by Colin Marcus


Shield of Silverhall

Page 2 of 4 Previous  1, 2, 3, 4  Next

View previous topic View next topic Go down

Lis

Post  The Sub-Creator on Sun Oct 13, 2013 11:59 pm

"That I cannot say, my lady," Rasven's servant admitted pitifully. "At least, not conclusively. My instincts tell me that that which he would not speak to you about was . . . well, a political matter. I would beg you to not bring it up, regardless. Master Winter would be most displeased if he discovered I had disclosed that information. He has confided in me of his yearning to keep your relationship strictly out of the political realm if at all possible.

"I believe your revelation about the Mwangi wine quite perceptive, however," Lis awarded her a knowing smile that hinted at much. "I know Master Winter has spent a great deal of time researching that area and its lore. He undoubtedly has political or economical designs there," he said, then leaned forward conspiratorially and revealed in a hushed voice, "but I also believe he continues to search for something more from that region. There is something about the magic of those lands that intrigues him, my lady. I know nothing of such subjects, of course, but Master Winter is well-researched in virtually all of them." He nodded slowly, emphasizing to her the importance of his whispered words, and straightened up in the chair once more.

"As a rule, I tend to not interfere in my Master's business unless he requires it of me," Lis explained in normal tones, "but he does favor that wine. I have witnessed its rejuvenating powers firsthand. If I may confess yet another belief of mine, my lady: the gift he presented you I reckon to have some significance behind it. Master Winter had been suffering another of these episodes when he received your own gift to him. Dare I say, it seemed to speed his recovery."

The servant's head tilted to the side a bit at that, as if some realization suddenly struck him, and he smiled. "I stand corrected," he decided, pleased. "Perhaps you may well be a remedy for his ills!"

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Mon Oct 14, 2013 4:04 pm

Wynnsaren laughed lightly and sniffled as she swept the tear from her cheek. "I dearly hope so, Lis." While offered in all honesty, her voice betrayed her thoughts on the likelihood of that scenario. "I dearly hope so, but at the moment I seem to be doing more harm than good."

Before the man could have opportunity to object, she spoke up, patting her hand in the air to placate him gently. "Now, I accept what you have said, and while I could not have known what effect my prying would have had, I still. . . Well, I just hate to have been responsible for triggering Master Winter's suffering. Heaven's sake, it seems I have just arrived!"

Time was a commodity drastically limited to her on this visit. Two days was all Wynn was allowed before she had to make the two week trek home to Akiros in time for their business at the start of Kuthona. Two days. . . Had she spoiled it already? The aasimar turned and sighed, moving toward the ice door to get a glimpse of the motionless form resting on the divan beyond.

"How long do you believe it will take him to recover from this attack?"

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Lis

Post  The Sub-Creator on Thu Oct 17, 2013 12:19 am

"It is impossible to say, my lady," Lis replied with a little shrug. "I would anticipate the wait to be a short one. At least, I have hopes that it will not be long! Should he miss the opportunity to spend time with you there will be no living with him." The servant winked at her conspiratorially.

"Are you sure there is nothing I can get you, my lady? There is no need for you to worry. I can have servants draw you a relaxing bath to help soothe your cares. Perhaps a masseuse to work out the stresses of the day?"

Lis stood and walked over toward the woman, though he positioned himself at an acceptable distance of five paces from her. "You will speak with Master Winter again before departing Silverhall, my lady. All kidding aside, I have never known a man stronger than he intellectually or persuasively. Even against the likes of his oath, Master Winter will get his way, I have no doubt."

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Thu Oct 17, 2013 2:41 pm

"Nor do I," Wynn stated with utmost certainty before she continued in more reverent tones. "He is. . .quite unlike any man I have ever met."

It was with a good deal of difficulty that she pulled her eyes away from the ice door and turned her attention back to Rasven's servant.

"Lis, are you sure that Master Winter would be displeased with me remaining at his side while he rests? I have no desire to upset him of course, but speaking as someone who has spent a lot of time alone at the top of towers, I think I might enjoy the opportunity for some company on occasion. Even if it is in silence.

"Your offers of diversion are appreciated and do sound lovely," she smiled softly, "but I cannot think of anywhere I would rather be just now."

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Lis

Post  The Sub-Creator on Thu Oct 17, 2013 7:18 pm

Lis bowed to her wishes. "If ever I have been mistaken about a thing, my lady, no doubt it is about that.

"Should you require any refreshment, simply speak my name with intent, and I shall be at your beckon call. I will be sure not to disturb you at any time otherwise."

He moved over to the transparent ice and quietly whispered the word which slid the dangerously cold door open. "I beseech you not to ever touch the door, my lady. The ice is magically enchanted to be immensely frigid. It will burn you severely, I promise.

"I trust my Master will be in most capable hands," Lis smiled and bowed again, extending an arm toward the balcony to usher her in that direction.

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Fri Oct 18, 2013 3:56 am

Wynnsaren positively beamed at the man. "Thank you, Lis. . . for everything." She took his hand and squeezed it lightly between hers. "Master Winter is blessed indeed to have someone so proficient and caring as yourself to look after him!"

Dipping a slight curtsy in his honor that Lis would no doubt disapprove of, the aasimar grinned and made a quick get-away, stepping out onto the airy balcony before the frozen door slid closed behind her.

All was silent but for the whistle of the wind as it flowed around the marble edifice dropping a hundred feet below them and gods knew how many feet above. Wynn could see nothing in her limited vision aside from the white orchid divan and the man that rested upon it, and that was enough, for even if she'd had the eyes of a hawk and the whole of Silverhall lay sparkling beneath her, she could not have been pulled toward any other view.

These new revelations. . . This new understanding of the merchant prince who'd irrevocably captured her attention in that first moment in Arodus, now threatened to capture something far more precious and more carefully guarded.

A divine word and gesture mended Wynnsaren's gown as she circled the giant orchid and knelt down beside the half elf. He remained as they'd left him; his face a picture of serenity and his hands folded atop one another.

Though trying not to play the voyeur, Wynn couldn't help but watch him a long, admiring moment before daring to reach out and trace a feather-soft touch along the length of his jaw. Even so ephemeral a connection sent butterflies fluttering frantically about her insides. She couldn't help but be amused at the irony of it all. As ambassador, she held the council of the king and could stand her ground before rulers of hostile nations and not blink. As adventurer, she'd faced down monstrous threats that sought to devour herself and her allies. As healer, she learned to steel her nerves against fear, dragging friends, horrifically wounded, out of harm's way, and as oracle, she had borne the burden of terrible visions that could loosen the bowels of many a stalwart warrior.

But this man. . . He was possessed of a force of presence that stopped her dead her tracks and sent her fumbling over words that usually came as easily as breathing. With him, Wynnsaren was quite suddenly -- and a bit distressingly -- just herself, with no role or title or duty to hide behind. The vulnerability of it was both terrifying and liberating!

"Rasven Winter. . ." The aasimar breathed the name as she smiled. "Thank you for staking so much on such a risky venture. I do not know what possessed you take a chance on me, but I am so very glad that you did. This. . . this is not something I have foreseen and I have not been given glimpse of what the future may hold, but trust me when I say that I will do my utmost to ensure that is a risk you shall never regret taking."

Whether he had heard or not, Wynn couldn't say and perhaps she hadn't meant for him to hear just then, but his face belied no reaction as she curled her legs beneath her and sat on the marble floor beside the divan. Gently, she took his hand in hers and turned, leaning against the soft, white petal as she faced out beyond the balcony and into the gray.

She could hear him breathing in the spaces between the low whistle of wind, deep and even, and she settled in for what could be a very long vigil.

Eventually, after what could have been minutes or hours, Wynnsaren, utterly relaxed, let the long journey of the past days catch up with her and her eyes slowly drifted closed at the behest of those mesmerizing rhythms; her thoughts spirited away upon the icy gusts.

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Rasven Winter

Post  The Sub-Creator on Sat Oct 19, 2013 12:55 pm

Rasven felt the tug.

He remembered the sundering of his physical and mental existence at the violation of his Oath . . . or, rather, what would have been the violation of his Oath. And Rasven would have violated it, he knew, as the flippant morsels of memory stitched themselves back together. Because she had requested it of me, he reminded that part of himself that had grown so very pragmatic over the decades and centuries of living through his bondage to Silverhall. I will again, if she asks it of me.

Truth. Freedom. These were the qualities Rasven identified with the aasimar . . . and another which he hesitated to think, much less say aloud. Too soon, his pragmatism scolded him. And what do you know of it? What else do you know besides Silverhall?

What indeed?

Another tug as the fibers of his metaphysical essence knitted themselves back together. Many times he had heard it proclaimed that warmth and comfort embraced those magically healed; that such grace washed over one's body from the power of a god touching him or her that it manifested itself as an incomparable moment of peace. Perhaps he had known that feeling once. If so, no trace of it remained. All healing brought with it now was further pain and exhaustion. He wondered sometimes at how many hideous scars might be present upon his soul if it were a physical thing to be witnessed. Truly, what an ugly thing his would be!

I do not care, he professed to that pragmatism as the whole of his thoughts began to make sense again. Typically, the training provided him by the Monk-Priests of Jalmeray enabled him to section his mind into manageable compartments upon recognizing the coming storm, but this time he had waited too long before initiating the power of his meditation. He had needed to help her . . . To feel her touch, pragmatism chided him, and at what cost?

A cost I have paid a hundred times before, he snapped back. Regaining control over his fleeting emotions, he thought, A cost I would pay a thousand times more at greater severity, if need be. Rasven knew such a boast not to be an empty one. In his two centuries of life under the mantle of the Oath, he had come to understand its true nature . . . it's true sentience. It continued to evolve in carrying out its task, and, thus, he needed to evolve in surmounting it. Luckily, he had succeeded in the creation of the Rings of Winter, which the Oath had yet to discover a way to counter.

A final tug mended his mind and body into one cohesive existence, and clarity returned in a rush.

Rasven's eyes blinked open. Patches of stars sparkled through a predominantly overcast sky. The moon hid herself somewhere on the other side of the rolling night-black clouds. Gusts of wind blew through his hair and tickled his scalp in the coolness of the Fall air. The lights of Silverhall speckled the city before him in tiny motes of yellow and orange, plotting out the winding roadways and all taking place upon them.

All the sights and sounds of nature and the city in the deepest hours of the night fluttered to nonexistence when the sensation of warmth within his hand registered to him. Rasven cast his eyes downward to see Wynnsaren curled upon the ground beside and below him, lightly resting her head upon the orchid next to where he resided. Seeing his own hand gently enfolded within her own, the half-elf took extraordinary measures to keep the beating of his heart slow and rhythmic. He was very much exhausted and elated at the same time!

While his first thought was to allow her continued rest, he recognized by her breathing that her current state of sleep remained tenuous. He decided then that rousing her would be best, that she might witness his successful recovery--as it were--and be able to settle more deeply into a peaceful sleep. Besides, it pained him nearly as badly as his Oath to see her upon the hard marble of his balcony, especially with so much unused room upon the orchid divan.

Calling upon what strength had returned, Rasven mustered a warm smile and tenderly squeezed her hand. "Is this the price I must pay to feel your hand in mine," he murmured softly after seeing her stir, "or might I simply request the honor? Whatever the price, Wynnsaren, I will gladly pay it."

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Sun Oct 20, 2013 3:51 pm

The aasimar couldn't help a chuckle as she blinked away the vestiges of a tenuous sleep and turned her face up towards his. Her eyes, now luminous at this late hour, danced with mirth and an enormous amount of relief.

"You are a bit mad, Rasven Winter. Are you aware of that?" Wynnsaren teased through an unquenchable smile. "But then I must be as well, because I find that quality in you incredibly endearing.

"But to answer your question, I believe a mere request should do the trick, for that particular price is one I sorely wish you would never have to pay again. In fact. . ."

After a moment of readjustment, she laced the fingers of her left hand through his right, sucking in a short, sharp breath at the sensation. She cleared her throat before continuing with a shy grin. "Perhaps you might just consider this hand yours, since I find myself in possession of a spare."

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Rasven Winter

Post  The Sub-Creator on Sun Oct 20, 2013 8:45 pm

"I will treasure it always," he professed in a small, weakened tone. He closed his eyes briefly and swallowed, an act still rampant with difficulties in the short moments since reviving.

Rasven Winter could not help but smile through such difficulties, however, for the hand he now held.

"I fear I have somewhat ruined our first real free opportunity together." He opened his eyes only enough to see her there looking up at him. "I will endeavor to make it up to you, Wynnsaren . . . You have my word on it, put against all I have built here."

Rasven lightly brushed her finger with his thumb. "At this time, permit me a pair of requests, if you would. First, this divan seats two quite comfortably. I should be honored if you might sit with me for a while. Second, it would seem I have missed taking my meal at a proper hour and now suffer from ravaging hunger. Might I inquire as to your dinner plans, Wynnsaren? If you have none, it would please me to partake of your company. I cannot promise truly riveting dinner conversation throughout, but I shall invest my all into providing for your every need."

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Mon Oct 21, 2013 9:03 am

"I think I can clear my schedule," Wynnsaren smiled as she rose from her place upon the floor of the balcony to sit beside him on the much more comfortable divan. All the while her hand remained entwined with his.

After adjusting herself upon the petals, she turned to regard the weary merchant-prince with more than a twinge of guilt in her eyes.

"Perhaps you might permit me a request as well, Rasven," the aasimar began gently. "Please do not feel as if you have ruined anything, for it was my questioning that brought you to this state. If I ever make inquiry that may cross some kind of . . . boundary in the answering, I will understand if you simply tell me you cannot say, for I have no desire to cause you further pain. My desires lie in quite the opposing realm."

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Rasven Winter

Post  The Sub-Creator on Mon Oct 21, 2013 11:21 am

"You cannot be blamed for inquisitiveness," Rasven assured her quietly. "Nor can you be blamed for what results from such inquisitiveness. In truth, I welcome your questions, Wynnsaren, regardless of their possible consequences. I yearn to satiate your curiosity about me, whatever the stakes." He squeezed her hand in emphasis to that point before adding, "Though I will attempt to be more careful, by your leave."

"Lis. I need you," the half-elf whispered. After, he tilted his head a shade towards the aasimar. "He will be here soon. Would you be so kind as to request dinner? Whatever sounds delectable to you will be fine."

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Mon Oct 21, 2013 4:41 pm

She winced awkwardly upon hearing Rasven's whisper to the head servant, then nodded in affirmation to his query.

"I rather think I may have overdone it when I called for his help earlier. . ." Reaching up with her free hand, the aasimar sighed and raked her fingers through her black hair, as the tiny motes of light danced above her head.

"And you should know that he was," Wynnsaren smiled, accompanied by a soft squeeze of his hand. "Helpful that is. I have never met a servant who attended his duties with such devotion, and might I say, love! Lis' care for you and how he addressed some of my questions that followed, speaks highly to your personal character, my dear Rasven. . . a character I find myself more and more impressed by."

She let her gaze drift over him slowly. Considering what the man had gone through in the gardens, she could understand why he would be as exhausted as he was now, but it was difficult for her to see him so. The thought that he had been through this suffering many times before sickened her, and angered her. . . It was one thing to serve a cause greater than yourself but whomever had administered this oath that bound him, had done so using wickedly barbed shackles. Stray from the course even a little and reap the agonizing consequence!

"Speaking of care," Wynn continued in liquid tone. "Would you allow me to use a bit of magic to aid you in your recovery?"

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Rasven Winter

Post  The Sub-Creator on Mon Oct 21, 2013 9:39 pm

Rasven peered up into her eyes for a long moment, bathing in their deep wells of illuminated affection. He had spent countless hours upon this very balcony overlooking the city but never seeing it, his gaze instead transfixed upon the glorious heavens twinkling overhead in a splendor that no magic in the world could duplicate. Yet, what he saw as he glimpsed into the eyes of this most magnificent woman captivated him in a way the heavens never could. She held power over him, body and soul.

Wynnsaren had become a very clear and present danger to him; an obstacle in her honesty and growing appreciation towards him the likes of which he had never known before. Strange how someone so true and pure could threaten to unhinge the delicate balance of his life . . . and that he would welcome it so readily! Indeed, that he would suffer whatever price the Oath, or the gods, might heap upon him! He swallowed the sudden emotion that caught in his throat and hid it behind a widening smile.

"You transcend beauty," Rasven whispered suddenly, adoringly. "I am humbled by what you are, Wynnsaren, and find myself a better man for it." With an extraordinary effort that he somehow managed to keep from his face, the merchant prince shakily raised his left hand up to cradle the soft, rune-radiance of her cheek. "And you have already aided in my recovery."

Just then, the ice door opened to allow Lis onto the balcony. Looking up briefly, the servants eyes grew wide as saucers, and he immediately bent into a deep bow that cast his vision safely upon the floor! "Uh, I do believe my Master beckoned?" he asked, the emphasis meant to question himself moreso than either of them.

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Wed Oct 23, 2013 12:05 am

Paths of fire flared to life where Rasven's fingers rested against her skin, branding her heart and soul, and Wynnsaren knew then that she was no longer wholly her own.

In that moment of clarity, she saw him.  In his physical weakness brought on by the sacrifice he'd made for her. . .   In the raw, vulnerable, honesty in his voice. . .  The aasimar understood without question that in spite of wicked rumor and unspoken mystery, she knew Rasven Winter.  She heard his soul in all of its strength and brilliance and it sang to her with the familiar allure of the celestial host stretched out above them.

Transfixed by his gaze and the touch of his hands, Wynn found herself unable to breathe, let alone move . . . until a foreign voice shattered the moment.

She drew in a ragged breath and felt the severing of their connection.  The strength Rasven was channeling simply to keep his trembling hand aloft, faltered, forcing it to return to its owner and Wynnsaren turned to address the head servant whose eyes remained affixed to a single point upon the marble floor.

"Lis. . .  Yes.  Yes, Master Winter called."  She spoke warmly in an attempt to ease some of the man's obvious discomfort at what could only have appeared as an unfortunate interruption.

"He finds himself ravenously hungry after his ordeal and has asked that I make request for dinner."  The aasimar tilted her head to the side for a moment as if listening to something.  "Or. . .perhaps calling it breakfast would be more appropriate considering the hour.  I am sorry for the hour, Lis. . . "  The poor man probably was sound asleep when the call came, but Wynn realized that even that probably didn't hamper his devotion to the Master.

"If you could bring us the bottle of Osiowet Master Winter so graciously gifted me," she considered the pairing for a moment before continuing, "and perhaps some preparation of lamb with pureed turnips?  I think that should do nicely."

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Lis

Post  The Sub-Creator on Thu Oct 24, 2013 6:34 pm

Somehow, Lis managed to bow even lower. "My lady, I will see that it is done immediately. The kitchens should be prepping for breakfast now. It will not be long, you have my word."

Slowly, the servant crept back towards the unique portal, forehead nearly dragging across the marble. "Will there be anything else? Of course, I will have the Osiowet brought up directly. It will be delivered by one of the Master's special servants, so as not to . . . disrupt you unnecessarily, my lady."

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Thu Oct 24, 2013 8:08 pm

Wynn flushed fiercely at the servant's insinuation that they might have been caught in the middle of something.

"That would be lovely, Lis, and should be all that is required, thank you."

The man backpedaled expertly in that hunched position and maintained it until he'd removed himself from the balcony completely and the ice door swished shut in his wake.

With a sigh, the aasimar settled back into the silken petals of the divan.

"I have something of a confession to make to you, Rasven," she began with a gentle grin. "I am having difficulty deciding whether I should be sharing the Osiowet with you or not."

She shifted her seat slightly to address him fully.

"On the one hand, it was a most thoughtful gift and to not partake of it would be extremely ill-mannered. . . and it is exquisite." Wynnsaren chuckled. In fact, in spite of her usual proclivities, she'd not had any wine at all since sharing it with him in Arodus, for what sad little vintage could possibly live up to that experience?

"On the second hand," the thumb of which she employed to graze lightly across his as she spoke, "After speaking with Lis earlier, I have come to suspect that the Mwangi wine is a help to you in combating this. . .condition and if that be the case, I cannot help but feel it entirely selfish of me to imbibe a drop of any substance that might aid you!"

She looked quizzically into his eyes, hoping for answer but fearing repercussion.

"I must admit, it begs the question of why you would send me a year's supply of that which could stave off the agony I saw earlier. Are my suspicions unfounded?" Wynn tentatively reached out her hand to run her fingers down the thick, silver-blond braid that fell just before his ear. "You must know that it pains me greatly to think you have had to suffer in this way before, and more still to think that I could be the cause of it."

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Rasven Winter

Post  The Sub-Creator on Sat Oct 26, 2013 2:36 pm

"Not stave," Rasven assured her. He smiled weakly, once again touched by her compassion. "Nothing staves . . . . Only revitalizes." Matching her gaze with an intensity composed entirely from strength of will, he added, "It pleases me that you enjoy it, and I wish you to have it."

With some effort, he picked up his free hand and placed it atop hers. "More so now that your brilliance has deduced its purpose. Whenever you imbibe of it, think of me, and remember I have a new elixir now." He paused for a short rest to recapture his breath, never breaking eye contact with the woman that so strengthened him. "I am currently conscious only because of you, Wynnsaren. My mind, my body, my soul . . . are bolstered because of you.

"I have no need of wine any longer, except to savor it in your company."

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Sun Oct 27, 2013 12:12 am

Wynnsaren startled at the thought she could have anything at all to do with such recovery, though Lis had described much the same thing after delivering her gift to his master. How could that even be possible? She did have the ability to stem the flow of blood from a wound with her touch. A gift of her aasimar heritage, she'd come to understand, but this was wholly different. It must be more than physical touch or presence that aided him, since the siccatite shard wasn't delivered in person and yet yielded a beneficial effect. Perhaps it was Rasven's own feelings towards her that helped rejuvenate him after such an episode!

The conclusion brought on a quality of smile that touched the corners of her eyes and produced a bubbling of laughter from her lips. Rasven didn't need the magic granted her by the gods. He didn't need her visions or political or social connections. He needed her! Nothing could have pleased Wynn more than that singular truth.

"I will not pretend to understand how that could be true," she responded at length, "but I do not need to understand for my heart to be gladdened that I can provide any sort of aid toward recovery." Wynnsaren's mouth curled up on one side in a roguish grin. "After all, it would hardly be very sportsman-like of me to interrogate a man in such a state. No," she tapped a finger against her bottom lip, "I think I would prefer you to be strong in both mind and body before I mete out any further poking and prodding upon your person." All mischief faded from her eyes as she chuckled and squeezed his hand, leaving only powerful affection in its wake.

Unsurprisingly, Lis was true to his word, and it was not long before the chilled wine and two ice-sculpted goblets floated out to them there on the balcony. Once the cups were filled and the first sips luxuriated in, the aasimar began to tell some of her own tales. The merchant prince may have been conscious, but he was weak and exhausted and even speaking more than a sentence or two at a time proved laborious for him, so it seemed a good time to share a few things about herself.

Wynn spoke to him about her odd relationship with the stars. Listening and longing but never seeing. She told him of how she was found in the mountains those seventy-five years ago and about her oddly quirksome but loving father who taught her so much in those formative years. She revealed the first of the five names that she'd worn, Tsukiko, Child of the Moon, and some of her early experiences in Tian Xia including her misadventures in, and subsequent escape from, the imperial governor's palace.

When the meal finally arrived, it was a pleasant reprieve. Not only had she been excusing herself for her snarling stomach every few minutes, but Wynn couldn't think of a time in recent memory when she'd spoken at such length without conversational interruption about anything, let alone about her own life! She hadn't bored poor Rasven to tears yet, so she considered that a good sign.

After some insistence, she cut up his lamb into bites so he could at least save his strength in that regard, for it seemed difficult enough for him to spear each piece and bring it to his mouth, but Wynn did not attempt to insult the man's dignity further by asserting that she feed him as well. Each bite was slow and deliberate, but he managed admirably and while they ate the delicious meal the aasimar jumped ahead in her story to the most recent tale of the finding and training of her akata friend.

She eagerly awaited the chance that the two could meet, for she felt in her bones that Rasven would enjoy him. Certainly he would not fear the beast, for how could a man who faced such torment and adversity possibly be squeamish about a blue space lion pup?

By the time the stars began to fade, their meal and Wynn's words had been exhausted. They watched the sunrise in a familiar and comfortable silence, as two people who were well acquainted with its embrace. This silence was different. It was shared. A communion of presence. Of simply being. In spite of the unusual circumstances, it was, in a word. . .lovely.

The aasimar's eyes fogged over and her glow faded with the dawn as the celestial symphony was drown out by the sun. She stretched her legs and turned to Rasven with a sigh and a smile.

"Thank you, Rasven Winter, for your companionship today, but I should probably take my leave and see about finding some proper sleep," she blinked with heavy lids. "No doubt you could use some more rest yourself. . . May I call upon you sometime later this afternoon? If you have appointments I certainly understand, but I have one more day in the city and I cannot think of anyone in whose company I would rather spend that time."

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Rasven Winter

Post  The Sub-Creator on Sun Oct 27, 2013 2:09 am

Rasven could not remember a time that he had smiled so often and so sincerely for so long. His lips hurt from the effort, but he welcomed this lingering ache with an exuberance almost adolescent at heart. A combination of exhaustion, agony, and presumed awkwardness for staring had prevented him from setting his eyes upon her throughout the sunrise. He had been blessed to witness the shimmering arrival of her runes and motes upon their first meeting, and he desperately longed to see her countenance as silvery radiance of heaven flitted away, as well. In truth, Rasven could not decide which way he found her more stunning, though it pleased him that it did not actually matter. He believed her ravishing and majestic, regardless.

Never had he known so much joy in his weakness, and never had he appreciated a sunrise more than on this morn with her hand resting placid and warm within his. It almost felt an extension of his own now, and that feeling comforted him; for hers was a hand offered freely without malice or forethought! The softness of her skin, the gentleness in her touch, the longing in her caress--these things proclaimed truth to him. Her hands had brushed across countless others, had known the sensations of far-off lands, swept through traditions both foreign and sacred; yet here, within the confines of his own naive touch, her tender hands peacefully resided most at home. How could one not draw such strength from that so as to overcome an Oath even as powerful as that which gripped him? How could one not find in that such a rare contentedness to ease all suffering?

When her voice broke their long silence, he thought the heavens had awakened their choirs with the newly arisen sun. Rasven slowly rolled his head over to get a good look at her speaking, stunned at the beauty held within her eyes.

"Call upon me at any hour of any day," he proclaimed to her honestly, returning her smile. "There is no one in all Golarion that will take precedence over your summons."

Rasven brought her entwined hand up to his lips and brushed the back of it with a light kiss. "It would please me if you might consider staying on the grounds," he expressed warmly, new strength entering into his voice that had been absent now for many hours. "Lis will see to your comfort and have your possessions delivered to you post-haste. I see no reason why you should need to go elsewhere in your exhaustion when there are adequate lodgings here that should suffice to your tastes.

"I leave that choice to you, though it would be an honor on my estate to have you as a distinguished guest."

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Tue Oct 29, 2013 12:23 pm

Her heart fluttered erratically at the simple token of affection, and once again she startled at the extraordinary effect this man had upon her!

"'Adequate lodgings' is hardly a descriptor that could be applied to any of the rooms in your estate, my dear," she grinned and shook her head, the gesture proclaiming his comment endearingly ridiculous.  

There was little doubt that a broom closet in his home would have been substantially more grand than some of the places the aasimar had been forced to spend the evening!  A barn just outside the little Varisian town of Ravenmoor with a particularly bitey goat, came immediately to mind.  Then there was that night in the Korvosan jail and though the rats were less bitey than that goat, she had a raging fever by the time she was loosed.  From prisons to palaces and everywhere in between.  Yes, she decided, a room at the Winter estate for a couple of nights should certainly suffice.

Wynnsaren gratefully accepted the merchant prince's offer, glad not to have to make the walk back to the inn as tired as she was, and pleased at the comforting thought of remaining under his roof for every additional moment.  Once the war began after the first of the year, she wasn't sure how long it might be until the next opportunity to visit him could be found.  

Once the call for the head servant went out, it wasn't long before Lis made his appearance, eyes glued upon the ground, unwilling to take any chances this time.  She reluctantly disentangled her hand from Rasven's promising to return it within a few hours, and after curtseying a good morning, she followed Lis from the balcony.

As it happened, the estate's newest guest was most decidedly not taken to a broom closet.  The room, or suite of rooms, that Lis ushered her into, seemed to have been designed for visiting royalty.  Though the entirety of the space was not immediately visible to her clouded eyes, the room was wrapped in a lavish mural depicting a snowy mountainside that was so exceptional in artistry, that it seemed as if she was not in a room at all, but had stepped into a far away realm.  Fluffy white mountain goats (not the bitey kind) could be seen as specks cavorting about the peaks.  Great eagles nested in the hoarwood trees surrounding a sparkling blue lake in the distance, and a river of snow tumbled down the rocky cliff that widened in the mural to form the floor of the room, blending seamlessly into the landscape.  The floor itself was soft as rabbit fur and slightly springy to the step, and as soon as Lis had left to see to her belongings, Wynn quickly discarded her slippers to revel in the texture.  

An enormous bed dominated one side of the room.  Grand trees of worked platinum seemed rooted in the floor and formed the posts of the bed, while sheer silk curtains hung like a misty veil among the branches, hovering over a mound of white satin sheets and goose down pillows.

Opposite the bed stood a great stone hearth jutting out of the snowscape, with veins of silver sparkling and reflecting the dancing flame that was lit within.  A polar bear fur of preposterous size lay before the fire, inviting guests to recline upon it to take their ease or read a book from one of the shelves fashioned from hollowed out hoarwood tree trunks that stood on either side of the hearth.

Tempted to peruse the shelves, but too tired for reading just now, Wynnsaren moved through to the next room; a clearing in a fey-inhabited winter forest that served as a sitting and dressing room with wardrobes of white oak and silver filigree and a intricately carved writing desk.  A glacial wall of icy windows allowed the sun to stream inside.

Through that room lay her destination, for Lis had somehow known to send additional servants on ahead to heat a bath for her while she awaited her belongings.  Bath really did not do it justice.  The aasimar stepped through what appeared to be a cleft in the rocky face of a mountain, concealing a large hot spring pool, ringed with cool, silver-gray slate stones.  It took less than a moment for Wynn to undo the laces of her gown and let it fall to a lavender bundle at her feet, before stepping into the steaming water with a groan of delight.

Adequate lodgings indeed. . .

By the time Lis returned with her meager belongings in tow, she was in imminent danger of falling asleep right there in the pool.

"Forgive the intrusion, my lady," called the now familiar voice from well behind the rocks.  "Your items have been delivered to the bedroom.  Also, there was a silver raven that arrived for you at the inn, which I've placed on the writing desk.  Is there anything else I might get for you before you retire for the. . .morning?"

"I am sure that will be all that is needed, Lis," she replied groggily, "for you have seen to every other detail.  Thank you very much for your help."

After the head servant departed, it was with some effort that Wynnsaren lifted herself from the water and wrapped up in one of the white robes that hung from silver fixtures in the stone.

The thought of another silver raven figurine being sent mystified her a bit, for she yet retained hers among her belongings and though they were hardly the rarest of magical items, she didn't know of anyone else that owned one.

The aasimar sat down at the writing desk and removed the message from the now inert magical messenger.  It simply read, "Winter funding war effort.  Send this figurine to Akiros for king's use.  ~S

Of course he is, Wynnsaren thought with a smile, upon reading the succinct message clearly written in Sarala's hand.  It was Rasven's purpose after all to see to the prosperity and well-being of Silverhall, a mission she could only have guessed at just the day before.  She found herself thinking upon those things with pride in her heart.  Pride!   Wynn was proud of who he was; in what he had the ability to accomplish and his dedication to his purpose.  How could she feel such honest pride for a man she barely knew?  Somehow the details of Rasven Winter had slipped through the cracks of the conversation yesterday in favor of deeper and more troubling aspects of his life, but it was in the details that two people were stitched together, and the details were what she would be going after later today.  After some rest, she yawned, setting the little bird back upon the desk to be sent off to the king later that day.

Wynn made her way to the bedroom and maintained consciousness just long enough to throw the received missive into the fire in order to prevent any wandering eyes from misunderstanding, and flopped wearily onto the silken sheets of the bed.  Enveloped in comfort heretofore unimagined, Wynnsaren fell into a blissfully nightmare-free sleep, filled instead with soft, smiling lips, affectionate touches and arresting platinum eyes.

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Tue Oct 29, 2013 10:04 pm

18th of Neth, 4711


"Heavens, Rasven!" A cheerful Wynnsaren called down from her perch upon the ladder a good ten feet above the man whom she addressed. "Can you actually read all of these languages, or are you simply an avid collector?"

It was yet early evening when the pair found themselves wandering among the stacks of the Winter estate's library. The entirety of the afternoon had been widdled away -- enjoyably so -- in conversation and a slow-paced tour of but a fraction of the home's charming features, including the remainder of the gardens (since their last stroll had been cut so drastically short) and the Lebeda gallery which housed the portraits of his mother, father and his father's wife among many others. Those hours provided a torrent of information about Master Winter that she'd only begun to digest, but she absorbed it all with the eager enthusiasm of a first year university student.

Wynnsaren was riveted by the portrait of Rasven's elven mother, whose coloring and striking features were clearly inherited by her son, while the angular features exhibited by the elven race were softened by the human influence of his father though the strong set of the jaw was certainly handed down father to son. Sadly, Rasven had never been told anything about his mother, which was likely due to the ire of his father's wife, whose pride had been pricked too deeply by the indiscretion even to treat the young half elf well, let alone as a son. It was probably fortuitous then that he was kept busy and largely out of her hair with his rigorous education in the fields of political maneuverings, military strategy, tactics, and of course strong economic policy. As if that was not enough academia for a young boy to drown in, he was also taught the many aspects of the magical art, both arcane and divine and though not a caster himself, discovered that the knowledge gave him an advantage over those of magical bent that would attempt to use such gifts to manipulate or coerce him. All lessons which had since served him admirably. Then there were the courses on etiquette and the less. . .formalized, but certainly pragmatic skill of learning to read the expressions of those he dealt with in order to determine lies and motives. His father apparently employed prostitutes and spies to teach his dear son these lessons. . .

His father was the one to gift him with the name Rasven, though the surname Winter he chose himself upon becoming the Shield of Silverhall and of House Lebeda following the death of his father. He explained that it was a bastard name that had fallen out of use in Brevoy with the coming of Choral the Conqueror, but in his mind it suited him well due to the tasks that had been set before him. Something about that saddened the aasimar, who wished he didn't have to live in a world where he needed to be cold, hard and cynical; rigid and unfeeling in the face of trial, but she'd seen a glimmer of the difficulties he'd had to deal with, and could not deny the necessity. When faced with a purpose greater than oneself, one must become what was needed in order to accomplish that purpose. That was something to oracle understood all too well.

Attempting to lighten the mood, Wynn asked him about the beautiful rapier he never seemed to be without. Rasven was indeed well trained in its use, having achieved a base of knowledge and skill in numerous styles to account him the rank of master duelist, and though he rarely had occasion to use such prowess in his day to day life, it had come in handy on many of his travels around the world. It was with some regret that he admitted having been forced to kill an Aldori Swordlord or two in duels that they deemed necessary to instigate, and as Wynnsaren had learned from the Lists of Mivon. . .very few swordlords will fight to first blood and even then, never over a matter of pride.

All the talk of swordplay, particularly that style, led her inevitably to the question of whether he enjoyed dancing. He responded first with one of those self-assured grins that made her feel like she might melt into the floor or perhaps swoon, but as she was not the swooning sort she was saved from that embarrassment, thank the stars! Much to her delight, Rasven not only enjoyed dancing but knew many types from various cultures and expressed interest in learning more, which unexpectedly flustered her into telling a rushed tale of her time among the Varisians, who taught her to find freedom and joy in dance. A lesson that had served her admirably through the years, and using the art as an outlet, helped her to find clarity and keep some semblance sanity through difficult times.

It was about then that they strolled into a library grand enough to bring a tear to Piotr's eye. The tiered, cylindrical room was four stories high (so Rasven told her, though Wynn could only see about three), with arches opening along the higher levels to allow observation from the hallways of the floors above. An area lavishly furnished with white oak tables and matching silver damask settees filled the central area of the room. The top two tiers held a gallery of landscape paintings from many different lands and cultures, providing a sort of visual library accessible by a winding, corkscrew-esque staircase that wrapped around circumference of the room. The first and second tiers sported walls heavily laden with tomes of all kinds and all subjects. Enchanted ladders ran along these walls, allowing access to the higher shelves of those tiers, moving side to side with but a small gesture from the seeker.

In this case, said seeker was Wynnsaren, and it was high upon one of those ladders that she found herself at this hour. She'd chosen a dress of bright crimson flowing satin to mirror her excellent mood this day, for indeed, no one in all of Golarion could have awoken in a better mood than Wynnsaren did earlier that afternoon and every hour since seemed only to further fuel that joy! A double-laced red corset decorated with gold phoenix and cherry blossoms was worn over the bodice of the dress that sported long bishop sleeves which began in a ruffle just off the shoulder and gathered to a cuff at the wrist. An interesting amalgamation of cultures all in one garment to be sure, but it was ideally representative of the aasimar herself to her own mind.

Clouded, silver eyes scanned over the dozens of books on the shelf before her. In this section resided histories of the nations of Golarion, past and present, many written in the original languages and next to none of which she could actually read herself. Azlant, Taldan, Kelish, Osirani. . .was that Skald? She singled out the text in question and held up her find, a middling sized leather-bound tome which appeared from the maps and drawings within, to be a text detailing a history of the Realm of the Mammoth Lords.

"Oh please tell me you speak Skald," the aasimar laughed as she slid down the ladder to the fifth step. She turned and sat with the text flipped open in her lap, awaiting her alluring host's response from a height that put her shining eyes level with his for a change. "I have a book of old songs and poems written by an Ulfen bard that I have not yet been able to translate."

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Rasven Winter

Post  The Sub-Creator on Thu Oct 31, 2013 6:36 pm

"Jeg kveder," Rasven assured her with the hint of a smile. He donned a silver half-cape clasped by a sapphire-studded, platinum brooch displaying his coat-of-arms. Beneath the garment, a pale blue and silver tunic clothed him, its three-quarters length high collar cradling his neck, yet leaving the throat uncovered so as not to inhibit head-turning. Tight pants of silver with embroidered ice fragments of pale blue fitted neatly with the pair of soft, silver boots that made not a sound as he walked. The now infamous rapier, six priceless rings, and amulet of siccatite completed the ensemble. All of his silver-blond hair swept back from his face and over his half-elven ears to a central point at the back of his head before fanning outward and down to just below the shoulders.

"I know many of them," he answered her initial inquiry, "but not all. I am currently fluent in fourteen languages, including Azlanti and Ancient Osiriani, which gives me some capability in Thassilonian and contemporary Osiriani, as well as dozens of regional dialects. It can be telling, and sometimes unwise, to travel to a place without understanding the intricacies of their semantic and phonetic variations."

Rasven started toward the ladder where this most fascinating woman currently sat, unable to peel away his platinum-metallic gaze from hers. He mostly hid the slight hitch in his step now, which enabled him a smoother gate than when first they had set out on their stroll in the late afternoon. Before meeting with Wynnsaren again, the half-elf had spent the majority of the early portion of the day hobbling about with a cane, strengthening his weak and sore legs. Some of the muscles had yet to work themselves back into shape, and he would be quite sore for days to come for pushing them so hard so fast, but that mattered not to him. In the more recent months, recovery from such an episode had taken him weeks. Walking and conversing after only a single night of rest seemed to him nothing short of miraculous, despite the hitch.

"It would give me great pleasure to read to you a book full of old songs and poems, Wynnsaren, in the original language as well as the transcription." He stopped three paces from her position and clasped hands behind his back. The urge to be closer to the aasimar lingered on the tip of every nerve in his body, but Rasven steeled his whole will against any improprieties that might be misconstrued as advances against her person.

In truth, etiquette remained his only real measure in this area, as he had never desired to be next to someone like this before. He had hidden behind this same etiquette against undesired advances upon his person in the past, used it as a shield by which to keep harlots and other conniving women from getting close to him. Now, it seemed, he required it to act as a dividing line between he and Wynnsaren; a line to keep him from accidentally impugning upon her honor. Rasven yearned to touch her--to caress her cheek, to run a hand through her silken black hair, to hold her close, to kiss her . . . but he knew nothing of times and places for these things. Indeed, he understood only what his mind and heart expressed to him, but could either mind or heart be trusted in moments of deepest desire?

Certainly not!

And so, he clung to etiquette for the safety of both, but primarily for her. What more curses could be thrust upon him, after all? She deserved none of that, however. He would check himself that she would remain pure and not a threat to the one she called king. So long as he might lose himself from time-to-time in the beauty of her eyes, and right himself in the elegance and strength of her name, Rasven would persevere.

"If you should find the thought attractive, I would happily teach you the language when opportunity permits. Some would consider it a harsh tongue, but I believe it rivaled only by draconic and polyglot in its power to elicit emotion, and only by the latter of those when conveying poetry or storytelling."

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Thu Oct 31, 2013 9:38 pm

Fourteen languages?! The aasimar was duly impressed, her raised brows indicating as much!

"Yes! That is it exactly! The stories!" Wynnsaren beamed in response to his insight, surprised and pleased that he hit upon the very point she had thought to make.

With a sigh laden with memory, she leaned back against the next two rungs of the ladder and let her eyes drift closed for a brief moment.

"I was only able to visit the Lands twice, both times being inexcusably short, but upon my second visit I had the good fortune to be in attendance as a local weaver of tale was plying his trade.

"Of course I understood not a word of it, but I felt the story if that makes any semblance of sense to you." Wynn sat up once more and smiled wistfully, hands becoming more animated as she spoke. "It is a beautiful language! The pitch variances give the tongue a lovely 'singing' type quality that, as you say, seems to make it perfectly suited for poems and tales. And the chance to hear the stories in your voice? From your lips?"

Her gaze drifted to that naturally grinning part of him in question, which she immediately knew was a grievous mistake for the difficulty which it caused for her to retain her focus. . . Her body further betrayed her when her cheeks and chest turned a similar crimson to the color of her gown.

"Well. . . That is to say," Wynn stumbled awkwardly, and gently closed the leather bound volume in her lap, if only to give her eyes something else to stare at for a moment. "Yes, I think I should very much enjoy listening to you read that book. I shall endeavor to remember to bring it with me next time I visit."

She forced herself to lift her head and meet Rasven's gaze. "Yes, to the language study too, if we are able to one day find the time to do so.

"I do not suppose you have had occasion to pick up the Celestial language in your many travels?"

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Rasven Winter

Post  The Sub-Creator on Thu Oct 31, 2013 9:43 pm

Rasven grinned at her, simply appreciating her manner. "I have not. Never in my travels has the need arisen for Celestial, sadly. You are the first from the heavens I have had the pleasure of meeting, in fact." His grin spread wider into a full-fledged smile. "It has been well worth the wait."

The half-elf flexed his fingers behind him, working out a bit of the stiffness that still lingered there. "I would very much enjoy adding it to my linguistic repertoire. Perhaps we might help one another, hm? Skald for Celestial. I am more than willing to dedicate whatever time may be necessary to such an endeavor.

"I can only deduce that your interest in languages derives from your rather wide-reaching travels?"

_________________
This is my word, and, as such, is beyond contestation.

The Sub-Creator

Posts : 508
Join date : 2009-09-19

Back to top Go down

Wynnsaren

Post  Wynnsaren on Thu Oct 31, 2013 11:04 pm

Wynnsaren tipped a smiling nod at the half elf's suggestion of linguistic trade, pleased both by the thought of spending the necessary time it would take in his company, but also for the fact that there was something that she could teach him!

"To a point," she responded in answer to his question. Standing, Wynn turned and climbed back up the ladder to return the book to its place as she elaborated. "I think it closer to say that my interest in languages derives from my interest in people which derives from my somewhat wide-reaching travels.

"You see, my father would give me puzzle boxes to play with when I was a child. They are quite common in Tian Xia, as I am sure you know, and I enjoyed the challenge of trying to work out the mystery and get to whatever sweet he chose to place inside of it. He is a shrewd gnome, my father. . ."

Her smooth voice softened further at the mention and she slid the book back onto the shelf before descending.

"Not only did his toys keep an overly active child from getting into mischief about the caravan, but they also taught her a valuable life lesson. Just because a problem or puzzle seems difficult or presents us with much trouble, does not mean that it is not worth solving. When we persevere, we are oft rewarded and find something of great value at the center of it all."

Quite suddenly, Wynnsaren halted her downward progress as her own words echoed in her ears, slamming home a possible answer to a riddle. . . the larger picture of her life. A slight tremble. A slight widening of the eyes, and then she continued down the ladder, stepping off in front of Rasven, looking up at him with a warm smile as if nothing had happened.

"When I grew older, people became my puzzle boxes. Now. . . I do not at all mean this disrespectfully, you must understand, but so often there seem to be those in society that people regard as outcasts or misfits or generally troublesome types that others seek to avoid. Maybe they are just quiet, seem cruel or angry, or feel generally misunderstood. I learned that developing an understanding of a person. . . almost any person, produces the greatest of rewards. Sometimes friendship. Always a new perspective.

"Language is simply a means of communicating and understanding and appreciating one's culture, which seems to be a valuable piece in everyone's puzzle. Plus," she winked, "I just enjoy the challenge of learning something new.

"I do not want you to think that I look at everyone as a puzzle to be solved, for that is hardly the case, but let us just say that I have learned not to discount a person's value based on what others seem to believe."

Wynnsaren turned her head to glance over at the seating area in the center of the library.

"Your own travels of the world have far exceeded my own, Rasven. I am curious if you have a nation or area that you favor above the others? I cannot help but notice that your choice of décor in your estate leans heavily toward the charms exhibited in the northern realms, but is this due simply to a connection with your chosen surname, or is there something more that ties you to those lands?"

A moment's pause and the aasimar held out her left hand, his hand, in offer for him to take. "Would it please you to sit and talk awhile?"

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

Re: Shield of Silverhall

Post  Sponsored content


Sponsored content


Back to top Go down

Page 2 of 4 Previous  1, 2, 3, 4  Next

View previous topic View next topic Back to top

- Similar topics

 
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum