If Trees Could Weep [Boski]

[Zaylora]

The sound of metal dragging across gravel rang through the small valley as a pale woman lumbered (pun intended :P) North towards the nearest tree, a blinding hunk of sword rigid in her right hand.

Gacha had no real destination; just go. Her smile beamed despite her unblinking eyes being firmly afixed on her feet in front of her. From three rows of small jagged pearly whites, to a picturesque nose with a small knot/mole near the tip, down cascading rivers of translucent hair capped by a crown of thorns so symmetrically grown together, and all the way down wooden curves that breathed life and death with each creak of her joints - Gacha was a deadly beauty.

She lifted half her gaze upwards as she acquired shading from the only tree in a mile's radius, and smiled more. Her claws of sharpened sap ran happily across the young birch - a fetus amongst her people. She wished she could guard it until birth, but that would leave so many others without protection. No, she must push on.

She lowered her gaze and continued on, the sound of metal echoing throughout the small valley.

[Klezmer Gryphon]

Boski's white robe blew idly in the wind as he walked. He had no real destination, he only knew that he was to wander the world. After 5,000 years of banishment, he came to like it, and found it wasn't too bad of a place. With his long black hair, fair skin, and thin goatee, one would think him for a mere mortal.

He heard the sound of dragging metal. Usually, it was just a group of worn out mercenaries, dragging their feet and their swords in the gravel. However, this seemed different, and he kept his guard up, not that he needed it, though.....

[Zaylora]

The wind brought with it this time the scent of flesh, and Gacha was intrigued. Wordlessly, she changed her direction towards the scent's origin and lessened her grin. If prey saw her teeth first, they'd know she wasn't one of them. At least with them hidden she had a few seconds of disguise.

Coming into view of a figure dressed in white, Gacha straightened herself and heaved the heavy sword onto one shoulder to carry. Her gaze was straight ahead, her teeth hidden by the folds of fleshlike wood the fleshy liked to call lips. She reached about a stone's throw from the figure, and halted, sizing up the being before her, seeing if this one was guilty.

[Klezmer Gryphon]

Boski saw the lady ahead. She was holding a large sword, and looked like she'd killed more than few beasts. He didn't want trouble, at least, he didn't want to cause trouble. His robe blew idly with the dust of the road, with the thick curls of his hair waving lifelessly in the breeze. It would certainly be an interesting day.

"I know what you are, nymph" he said. It was easy for Boski to tell a nymph from a human, and even more so a murderous nymph from a peaceful one.

[Zaylora]

Gacha smiled, and three rows of small teeth glistened with sap.

"Ah, a wanderer who is a bit wise;
Then there be no need of this disguise.
Tell me, be you guilty or free,
of the great crime 'gaisnst the tree?"

She spoke, and her voice was as gentle as a winter's breeze and as melodious as a murder of crows. She unstraightened her head - it was rather tiring to be symmetrical all the time - and let the sword tip fall once more to the earth.

[Klezmer Gryphon]

"I've not a crime against trees. I am Boski, nymph. Perhaps that name sounds familiar?" He said, answering the rhyme of the nymph. He conjured a holy sword, and kept it at the ready in case things turned ugly.

[Zaylora]

Gacha's eyes caught the light of the weapon materializing in the hands of this fleshy.

"If innocent you be,
no trouble you have with me.
I know naught of Boski the name,
Alone into this world I came -
Mayhaps a year ago, near the sea;
None other tree but me."

Gacha completed her thought and stared out to the West, and her smile flickered away but for a mere second before refocusing.

[Klezmer Gryphon]

Boski decided to switch gears in his speech a little.

"If thou hast no quarrel, then why dost thou have thy sword drawn?" He asked, using a dialect of Common that was long out of use. He wasn't sure why he decided to use the old dialect, but he used it anyway.

[Zaylora]

Gacha perked a little at the olde dialect, slightly more trusting of this fleshy.

"Out of scabbard be my sword,
For possess I not the place it be stored."

She indicates towards her hips, bare save the leather wraps 'round her and draping down her back.

"Born alone in a field of slain kin,
Seek I woodcutting flesh to sink my blade in.
As those of blood may say,
'An eye for an eye' is the way."

[/i]

She lovingly twirls her claws around the hilt as she speaks.

[Klezmer Gryphon]

Boski wasn't surprised at all with this nymph. He had seen several nymphs like this, murderous against woodcutters, fishers, or whomever devastates their home.

"An eye for an eye may be, but doth thou know whom the will be?" He asked, using a rhyme in answer of the nymph's rhyme. If worse comes to worse, it wouldn't be a long fight.

[Zaylora]

Gacha's mood danced with the rhyme of the fleshy. She seemed to start to take a liking to this one.

"The flesh that will be ripped with my blade,
Will be as nameless as the willow tree's shade.
For those that reap the fetus of the tree,
Shall breathe blood and see their eternity."

Gacha wondered if this one ever came near the shores of her bark, back as a wee sapling. She shook her head slightly to rid her mind of 'what-if's'.

[Klezmer Gryphon]

"If thou skips the role of judge and jury, then art thou the executioner?" He asked. He was certain that the nymph wouldn't cause harm, but he had an idea creep into the back of his mind. He wouldn't let it happen until later, though. He wanted to see what the nymph would do first

[Zaylora]

Gacha finally let out a small chuckle.

"Were it I had others to play,
I'd take only one job any day.
Alas, executioner, jury, and judge all are mine,
until find I more family with which to assign."

She felt one of her toes begin to curl and dry - she'd need to move towards water in a little while, but no rush.

[Klezmer Gryphon]

Boski noticed the nymph's situation. Reaching into his robe, he produced a canteen filled with water; even gods get thirsty. He was going to see if this nymph was desperate or not. Taking the cork out, he took a long, drawn out sip of the water within, satisfying his own thirst. It was as if he wanted a fight.

[Zaylora]

Gacha spotted the metal the figure called Boski retrieved from inside his clothing. Why did these things like this metal so much? She mentally shrugged. After all, it's better than using wood. Her eyebrow raised ever so slightly as Boski removed the top from it, and water flowed out. He then began to drink, and Gacha thought she saw him glance in her direction, but one couldn't be too sure with these flesh things.


She looked downwards towards her own chunk of metal and wondered if she'd ever need to take care of it. Does metal need watering? Pruning? She'd have to find out sometime in the future.

[Klezmer Gryphon]

Boski saw the puzzled look on the nymph's face, but decided not to clarify. He was starting to get bored, which wouldn't be very pretty if the boredom continued.

Turning the other way, he started to walk down the gravel road, hoping the nymph would do something stupid and give him some entertainment.