Talk About Lost (Silverlight)

[Anonymous]

Thick, dense, forest. That's what this place was, just miles and miles and horrible horrible MILES of even more horrible leafy vegetation. Who knows what lurks in this place, what nasty woodland creatures with a penchant for soft, tasty and well-lotioned skin. Or, perhaps, what even worse sort of person lives way out in the bush like this, surely they can not be civilized. They must be savages, or bandits of the worst sort who had to escape any semblance of civilization to avoid the noose.

These are the thoughts rolling through Varcan's head as he pulls himself out of the comforting safety that is the ignorance of unconsciousness. A soft hand topped in perfectly straight, slender fingers goes to his forehead as he remains laying flat out on the relatively comfortable grass beneath him. A dull groan escapes him as he lowers those fingers, shielding his eyes now from the early morning light filtering its way through the emerald green leaves that dance above him in the gentle breeze.

"Uhhhg..." This is about the limit of what he can muster to express his supreme annoyance at waking up in the absolute middle of nowhere with no one around. A few seconds later he pushes himself up into a seated position, hand still on his forehead to attempt to force the dull throb pounding in his brain to abate. No such luck. "Bugger," he mutters, slowly opening one eye and peering in between his fingers at the woods around him. Quietly he stares for several long moments, his eye shifting from this direction to that one, and back again, regarding the area all around him until finally he speaks. "How the hell did I get here?"

A good question, and one he wishes dearly he knew the answer to. Almost as much as he wishes he had woken up in a nice soft bed, in a place he knew. As opposed to say, where he is now, a grass-covered forest floor. A far cry from a soft, down-stuffed bed replete with silken sheets. He finds his mind traveling backwards as he sits there, rather disheveled with the front of his vest undone to about his abdomen and hanging off of one shoulder with the long arm-sleeve he usually wears on his left arm bunched down around his wrist. His shoes are nowhere in sight either and he finds this rather annoying, but trying to figure out just what the devil happened to him is more important at the moment.

Images of a party of some kind on a noble's estate, one that bordered a very large leafy forest - perhaps the one he's in now? - flash through his mind. Small crowds of people dot the yard and gardens, talking and laughing and dancing; clearly, a party of some kind. Bright lights, fireworks maybe, overhead... And then he stops. The mental image of bright lights exploding in the air above his head is not at all what he needs at the moment given his condition and he promptly falls back over onto his back. Perhaps to gather himself. "Well... Damnit."

[Anonymous]

Morning came, the forest creatures awakening to greet the climbing golden sun.  Those who walked the beneath the moon had long since crawled into their dens, fleeing from the warmth of the light of day.  One creature had risen with the fall of the moon and the rise of the sun.  An elf, tall and old, had stretched silently from her place on a tree branch high on the plant.  Her arms stretched on either side of her torso, her face screwing up with the pleasure of the sensation.  Taking a quick glance at the sky, the elf jumped, landing lightly and soundlessly on bare feet upon the ground below.  It had taken her years to become as silent as nature herself, but even now, so many centuries later, perfection had not been reached, nor was it aspired.  She wore a plain tan tunic that fell to her knees, a belt with intricate markings wrapped around her hips.  The belt held a sword, simple in design with a cross hilt with inlaid ivory, and a brace of knives.  

Moving toward the sound water, the she-elf came upon a small stream.  She knelt, drinking water from her cupped hand.  She drank silently, peacefully.  It was as if she were a part of the forest, having lived there all her life like the deer and the birds and the mice.  And perhaps she had.  She had lived a long time, no doubt, and she preferred it out here where civilization could not impose itself upon her as it had long ago when she had lost her husband to the wars of society.  But that was long ago, now merely a memory.

Uruviel lifted her head suddenly, her eyes, the color of malachite, straining as she looked about her.  She had heard something, somewhere in the depths of the wood.  She closed her eyes, letting her pointed ears take over.  Yes... here was something; but what?  Slowly, she rose, her dark brown hair dancing about her as a gentle breeze moved through.  She inhaled, trying to catch the scent.  Nothing.  That meant that the intruder was somewhere in the other direction.  Turning, Uruviel trotted soundlessly through the forest.  The trees rushed past quickly as she went in pursuit of her goal.  She hoped that there was nothing bad, none of those stupid bandits which always thought that they ruled the world.  Or she hoped that there weren't any of those of wealth that cared not for the earth.

She came to an abrupt stop, having heard a voice... was it male?  That never meant anything good; she found that males were among the more stupid creatures of the world.  She sighed, drawing her sword.  The sound of metal rang quietly in the morning sun.  She sniffed, and caught a whiff of him.  He smelled well taken care of.  Oh good... she thought sarcastically.  Of course, she might have been wrong.  She came upon him soon enough, and paused, still making sure to remain unseen.  There he was...

He was on the ground, apparently distressed.  She could sense it in the air.  The tense atmosphere gave it all away.  Her eyes narrowed.  Perhaps she should intervene...?  But he seemed to be harmless; she sheathed her sword in its leather scabbard.  She approached quietly.  

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was somewhat deep, yet still distinctly feminine.  She spoke as if she were anxious about something, and perhaps she was.  Perhaps she was anxious that he was there.  She had at one time been open and friendly to all that she had met, but experience soon taught her that that was the naïve way to go.  All her years of life had given her a lot of experience with the ugly side.  The elf began to circle the man who was still lying on the ground.  She sniffed his scent which clung to the air around him.  She looked like a wolf about to approach its prey.  However, she really meant no harm to him... at least for now.

[Anonymous]

Varcan's hand remains planted over his gently painted eyelids, doing well to block out any sunlight that might force its way through and cause his eyeballs to ache anymore than they already are. Laying there, he tentatively allows his mind to reel back for the second time now, past the god awful fireworks that still hurt to even think about. Not so far back, after the fireworks now, are the memories he tries to dredge up out of the recesses of his still-aching brain.

He was a guest, that night. Well, technically, he was a guest. He was the sort of guest you get to come along with you when you've got a deep set of pockets and no one else to turn to. Surprisingly enough, this was not all that uncommon when it came to the truly wealthy. A life of absolute luxury tended to cause flab where it was not wanted, among other such unfortunate byproducts of a life of leisure. It was because of these unfortunate things that sometimes the wealthy had no one to bring with them to parties and other functions, a terrible thing indeed, and this is where Varcan comes in. Attractive company for the evening, that was what he gave, and he did it will. Well enough that he possesses a few repeat customers.

He blinks his eyes gently, putting a quick stop to the rambling on about himself. Sometimes it could be difficult to keep the mind going in the exact track one wants it to without deviating into other nearly utterly unrelated territory. Back, back to last night he thinks again without hopefully any more distraction. He had found himself separated from the one who brought him there, a rather nice matronly sort of woman but with a bit of an unfortunate teeth-to-gum ratio. Yes, he had found himself alone at one point with his client nowhere in sight. Not the worst thing that could have happened, really, it gave him a chance to go out and meet other potential clientele. As well as have a good time - free food and alcohol, what's not to love?

He had, at some point, drifted into the company of a young man. A rather attractive young man. A rather rich, attractive young man. This mesh of traits is definitely something Varcan would consider a winning combination, and he quickly set to The Test. The Test being does this man swing both ways, and if so, how closeted is he. A vital thing for Varcan to determine, of course, before pushing any further in his own subtle ways. A few minutes of polite if clever conversation yielded the answer Varcan was looking for - yes, but heavily in the closet. This would certainly require a bit of work.

However, at this point, he finds himself awoken from his reverie by the sound of a nearby voice. The small little smile that had been on his lips as he was busily thinking back to the night before disappears as he slowly pulls his hand away from his eyes, blinking them a little to adjust to the still-harsh light of the sun as he looks around for the source of the feminine voice he had just heard. It was a bit of a surprise really, he thought himself rather alone out here. Still, the fact that the voice is female is a bit of a comfort - if it had been a gruff, manly one, Varcan would have had fears of becoming someone's mountain-wife. Not a fate he had any interest in.

He sits up a little, spying the woman now and tilting his head as he regards her. Unlike himself, she looks very used to living in the forest. A local, of some kind, if such can be said of someone living in a massive bush."I would dearly like to know that as well," is his reply as he brings himself up into a sitting position now, his arms hanging forwards into his lap. He gives his head a gentle shake, his hair having long since freed itself from the styled pony-tail he often has it in to hang about his bare shoulders. "If I knew, I would certainly tell you. But, what are you doing here? I am hoping at least one of us knows the answer to that one."

[Anonymous]

At first, Uruviel was somewhat angry, on the defensive.  A growl erupted form the back of her throat, proof that she had been alone and in the wilderness for a very long time.  She was crouched slightly, but kept her weapon at her side.  This one didn't look like he would be much of a problem, but she still did not like that he was here.  Yet, at the same time she was curious, although she refused to let herself feel that way.  She truthfully did enjoy the company of others, but with her traumatizing experiences, she had forsaken people and taken to the woods.  Her green eyes stared at him intelligently, inquisitively.  Who was he and what was he doing there?  He had said he didn't know, but there was still a reason, whether he knew or not.  The male sat up, and the elf stopped circling him.

He was an interesting looking person; he was definitely male in build, yet she felt that he was somehow also effeminate, beautiful like the beauty in elves.  He was quite pleasant to look at, although this did not mean much to her at the moment.  Somewhere inside, Uruviel's soul was crying, upset that her peace and her solitude had been interrupted.  She had not wanted to allow herself to become attached to anyone every again, for she felt that her heart could not bear the weight of another loss, and those she loved always were lost to death.  She did not want this to be another opportunity.  She was glad, for once, suddenly, that all those she had known were gone.

Her face softened slightly as he continued to speak, and she crouched down on all fours, inching toward him, lowering herself to his level until she was quite close.  She, too, sat herself down upon the ground, sitting herself in a position where she had to lean on her right arm; she kept what needed to be hidden from him hidden within her tunic.  

"I am here because I want to be.  This is where I have lived for the past one thousand years." She paused and made eye contact, her gaze hardening once more.  "I was content to remain in such a way until you came and disrupted it all; I can hardly ignore the scents which are all over you."  Her small nose scrunched slightly.  She had become more animal like, her senses all becoming more magnified.  She preferred it that way, becoming much closer to nature as was the origins of her people.  She was returning to her origins, discontent with where the world was going, the way the world was destroying the land, raping the earth's body.  As she thought to herself, her eyes drifted towards the ground, darkening.  She returned her gaze and met his once more.  She suddenly jumped up on her feet in a single fluid motion.   She gazed down upon him.

"I can't have you here; you are not welcome."  Deep inside, she was glad for another.  She had not spoken aloud for a very long time, and was surprised that her voice had no problems remembering.  But in truth, she was afraid, afraid of what this would all mean for her.  Even if he left now, she would go into mourning, upset that she would be alone once more.  It was in this respect that she had no control over herself, something that she hated.  She had always been in control, yet here she failed.

Uruviel sighed sharply and paced back and forth, gazing at him as if she were an animal in a cage, trying to find a way in which she would be able to reach him and devour him.

[Anonymous]

Varcan watches her for a few minutes, observing her pacing and wandering mannerisms that seem to keep her wandering around him more than she ever stays still. A bit like a wild animal, he thinks to himself, though when she reveals she has spent the last thousand years here in this wide expanse of forest and presumably alone with nothing but animals to keep her company... It makes sense.

"I'm probably the first person she's seen in a long while," he says though in his mind alone, certainly not out loud. When she's finally seated herself, however brief that may prove to be, he leans forwards a little to stare at her more closely. For someone who's lived in the bush for a couple centuries she's kept up her appearance - hair isn't too ruffled or covered in feathers or something else equally odd and distressing he would expect to find from a bush woman. It was because she did not look like she was about to rape or eat him that he feels relatively comfortable, comfortable enough to take his eyes off of her.

The bunched up sleeve of his left arm is pulled up, back into place where it ought to be to cover his entire arm from wrist to just beneath his shoulder. He glances down at himself, straightening out the vest he wears and calmly adjusts it, moving it back into place and slipping it over his shoulder properly. A few seconds are devoted to redoing the miniature buttons and ties that keep his vest closed. That done, he glances about for his sandals but discovers that they are not even in his line of sight. Bugger.

Now his attention returns to her as she rises up, informing him that he is not welcome. Welcome where? It's one big glorified pile of shrubbery. It's not exactly like he's pining to be there in any case, but her insistence that he needs to be removed and is not welcome there piques his curiousity. It is worth sticking around a while yet, if only for the sake of curiousity. He rocks forwards, sliding himself up and onto his knees so that he's kneeling before the woman in the tunic. "Are you sure I must leave? You look.. Lonely," he begins, reaching up behind his head and fishing out the black length of silk he uses to tie his hair with before recreating his usual pony-tail. His eyes remain on her through the whole process however.

"I have no where to go, anyway, are you sure you would not like some company? If, only for a little while." If there is one thing he knows, it is a lonely man or woman - it's rather his job to pick that kind of a person out of a crowd. A single hand is lifted from his lap as he speaks, tentatively, to touch at her hand when she passes by him on one of her paces with just the barest part of his fingertips.

[Anonymous]

She ignored his first question, feeling that it was unnecessary for her to respond.  After all, she had just told him that she did not want him there, had she not?  Her only response was to shoot him a glance.  She herself did not understand the reason for her behavior, but this realization merely magnified her annoyance for this being.  She was having difficulties trying to balance her emotions, for the world that she had established herself over the millennium was now on the brink of destruction.  If only would leave now... it would all return to the way it was.  But was that what she wanted?  She thought it was, but she was confused right now.  Although she had forsaken society and reveled in the joys of solitude, she also had never relinquished her elven nature.  This was the source of her dilemma.

As she passed by him, pacing back and forth, she felt his hand brush her own.  She stopped.  The contact had been brief, had barely happened.  She slowly moved her head toward him, but her eyes followed much more slowly.  Her expression was like one offended, appalled at some obscene action.  For a long while, she just stared at him, still, unmoving.  She might have turned to stone.  Only the steady rise and fall of her chest revealed that she was still alive.  She gazed into those stormy, grey eyes.  Why did he do that...?  Resentment filled her own malachite hued eyes, resentment because there was something in that touch that stirred her.  Yes, she was alone.  Yes, she would like it if she stayed.

She admitted it; she had to, she could no longer deny it.  

He had nothing else to do, he said; she doubted that.  He did not look at all comfortable here; and his luxurious possessions agreed with her thoughts.  Yet, she could tell that he had been telling the truth when he had said that he did not know why he was there.  She wondered if he forgot, or if he was merely crazy.  He didn't seem crazy, but sometimes the most crazed person could appear as normal as one sound of mind.  Maybe he was crazy, she concluded, and felt better.  She could have told him that there was a town somewhere nearby, near the northern part of the forest.  But she didn't.  Something held her tongue.  Maybe she really did need the company.  She needed to convince herself that she still was sound of mind.  That she still was not crazy after all the years her mind struggled to retain its hold.

Still unmoving, her eyes darted over his face and his body, as if studying this strange man, but with the way her eyes were chaoticly moving, she could not have possibly been really studying him.  It looked more like she was following the trail of some small flying bug as it darted through the air.  Finally, she exhaled loudly, as if exhausted.

"Come."  She turned, wondering if he would follow her.  Even if he did not, she needed to return home... Her small hut lay deep within.  She did not stay within it often, but there she could find shelter, protection, and a small store of dried food that would sustain her for a winter when she could find no other food source.  She wondered if the male were hungry.  She would find out soon enough, perhaps.  She didn't pay much attention to her surroundings as they moved past her; her mind was far too preoccupied.

[Anonymous]

He retracts his hand after the brief touch, slender fingers held in the air for a moment as her head turns so she can fix him with her stare. He blinks his eyes a little at her stillness, almost swearing she has been stricken dead by his touch and just simply refuses to fall over until he notes her breathing. They look he receives from her is one that would probably curdle milk, but Varcan has certainly seen worse and is thus not put off by it. Instead, he remains kneeling and silent as he looks up at her, waiting.

The hand that had been held where it was in the air after the touch is slowly pulled back in and folded neatly in his lap along with its counterpart. The only noise that comes from him is the rustle of his clothing whenever he shifts as he returns her stare with a placid, docile one of his own. A look honed over years of knowing that sometimes looking as innocent as conceivably possible is the best way to go about ones business.

While she seems to be taking a decidedly long time to decide on the answer to his request, Varcan busies himself with tidying himself up again as best he can while waiting for an answer. Stray grass and leaves and such are knocked free from his hair and body, his eyes closed during the process. Occasionally, he opens a single stormy gray eye to peer up at her from beside the creamy curtain of hair that form his bangs, waiting and watching. It is during one these quick glances at her that he notices her gaze jumping all around in his general direction, and he wonders for a moment if she is indeed crazy.

When she finally speaks he looks up properly now, with both eyes, from combing out some of his hair with his fingertips. The same docile look remains in place even after she turns around, with Varcan rising to his feet a second later. The grass feels rather nice between his toes, indeed the very feeling of the ground itself is a bit of a comfort. Maybe his sandals were just really uncomfortable and he hadn't noticed. Either way, as long as he has grass to walk on, he won't be complaining.

This is the thought that crosses through his mind at least as he glances down at the portion of his bare feet that stick out from beneath the hems of his dark pants. When the strange woman sets off, he follows along behind her, a slight spring in his step, "Where are we headed?"

[Anonymous]

The elf could hear him following.  Somewhere, deep within her, she was relieved.  Today she would be having company.  She was glad, although she hated to admit it.  Besides, she had not entertained anyone for a very long time, so she was sure she was bad at it.  Of course I am... Just look at the way I was just acting.  This thought amused her, and a slight smile played upon her petal pink lips.  She turned her head slightly, only just enough so that she could catch sight of him in her peripheral.  There he is.  She returned her gaze to the front.  She could still hear him walking behind her.  He was not quite as clumsy as she had anticipated.  

"You will see soon enough," was her only response to him.  Her voice was much less aggressive, almost genuinely gentle, soft.  Her plan was to take him to her hut; she was sure it would be a pleasant change for him, he seemed too meticulously neat.  There, if he needed to stay longer or rest some more, he would find a plain, hard bed; but it would be clean.  He would find food and water, as well, everything he needed in order to feel comfortable.  Although it had been a long time since she had entertained anyone, she had not forgotten how to be hospitable.  This was what she had planned for him.

"I am called Uruviel."  She introduced herself, only remembering to do so when she began to wonder what his name was.  She figured that if she told him hers, then he would return the favor.  There was no need to ask, no need for unnecessary words.  Uruviel could feel the earth beneath her feet, the cool grass bending slightly to the weight of her light elven feet.  Although it had not rained, the earth was moist nonetheless from the morning due.  The forest was always a cool and pleasantly humid place in the morning.  It was her favorite time of the day.  She enjoyed the simple pleasures of life; she was a simple creature.

There was a time, however, when the elf had known how to dress in the intricate clothes of her kind.  She had always loved to dress up, appreciating the soft fabrics and beautiful workmanship.  The patterns drawn about the clothing with shining thread she had found pleasing to the eye.  But, alas, it had been long since she had induldged in the sort of thing.  She hardly thought of it now, content for the moment with her soft leather dress and her three simple weapons.  She sometimes missed her homes built into the large trees of her forest homeland, but she was content living in the wild, hunting for herself, returning to her origins.  

She was a being of two worlds, having spent the majority favoring one part of her world.  To her, returning to nature had served as a sanctuary from her own sorrows and thoughts.  She had been healing her unseen wounds for one millennium, but she was still not sure if she were ready for civilization again.  Perhaps she was afraid, even.  Thus, she stayed here, content with the simplicity of solitude.  

Finally, she crossed a narrow stream.  "This is my home.  You may stay here if you would like."  Her hut was other side.  Once she reached the threshold, she turned, finally stopping.  She ventured a glance toward the male before pushing aside the fabric flap that was her door and entering.  Her invitation for him to join her was silent, but still apparent.  Inside, there was only one room.  A bed was on the right, a fire pit and some wooden shelves on the left.  There was a plain rug on the floor in the center, and many trinkets covered the walls.  They were memories of her past, of those she knew.  There was one small painting hanging on the wall nearby the bed that depicting a much more refined Uruviel with a man.  He was wearing a simple brown cloak, his light brown hair held back in a queue, a goatee decorating his features.  He was distinctly human next to her but they looked happy.  The elf did not look at the image when she entered.

[Anonymous]

Varcan seems unperturbed as to where they are headed, the woodlands around them are charming enough to entertain his sensibilities as they walk along in whatever direction it is that Uruviel is leading them. Stormy gray, curious eyes turn this way and that as they walk along the barely visible forest path, likely carved out by the animals of this place. And, he reminds himself, possibly the woman in the leather tunic walking just ahead of him had something to do with it as well.

His steps are light as they move along, subtly buoyed by invisible wind that causes only his toes to brush the top of the ground whenever they track over any terrain rougher than the soft grass that had served as his bed for all of last night. His attention leaps back over to her when she introduces herself properly, bringing a polite smile to his soft pink lips even if she does not look behind herself to see it. "My name is Varcan, it's a pleasure." As much of a pleasure as it can be, waking up in a forest with no idea where you are or where the devil your shoes happen to be.

Varcan dances a little - or rather, walks with gusto - as they move along through the forest now in silence that initial pleasantries have been exchanged. He is as silent as a leaf falling from any of the nearby trees to the surface of a pond, however, so his capering is not exactly noticeable unless Uruviel happens to turn around and look at him. Long, slender arms stretch out around him as he steps quickly, spinning about for a single rotation now and again. Careful placement of his feet are part of the reason he keeps so silent - as well as the fact he's not actually touching the ground any longer. Perhaps the beauty of nature overwhelmed him to the point where he had to dance to express himself. Either that, or he just has too much pent up energy left over from the night before.

He sinks back to the ground properly when they cross the stream, grabbing at his pant legs near the knees and lifting them up so as to avoid dragging them through as he dips his feet in the delightfully cool water. A contented sigh escapes him as he tilts his head back, remaining in that position even as he drops his pants back down to their rightful spot on the other side of the stream. When he opens them, he is staring at her home. "It is..." He trails off, tilting his head a little and squinting at it as if to determine just exactly what it is. It's a hut, that's what it is. "It looks comfortable," he finishes, stepping inside after her and taking a look at the interior of the place with pretty well a single glance. Seeing as how it's only one room, the details reveal themselves promptly.

"You live here alone, I take it," he observes, though this is spoken more quietly and mostly to himself than to her. A few steps carry him in the direction of the portrait, his eyes scanning over it as he taps a finger against his chin thoughtfully. The portrait looks.. Old. The elf woman in it also looks more refined than she does now, he thinks, with a glance back in her direction. He keeps that to himself, however, and instead paints a smile across his lips, "Thank you for taking me in." There is no lie in his words, he means what he says.

[Anonymous]

So his name was Varcan.  She smiled politely, but said nothing and did not turn to acknowledge him.  His step was perhaps as light as her own, she realized, for she could not quite hear his footfall.  However, it was not the sound of his movements that let her know that he was there; it was his scent.  It stood out in all the scents of the trees, the dirt, the fallen leaves, the water, the air.  It separated him from everything, and that was how she could recognize his position behind her.  

Once he had entered her home, she listened to him speak.  She understood that even though this was a change from staying in the wilderness, it was still probably not as sophisticated a place that he was used to.  "Thank you," she said quietly.  "It's not much; only what I need.  But I hope that you will like it here."  What?  Why was she saying that?  She didn't know him, didn't want him to stay for long, right?  She could have sighed in annoyance at herself, but remained silent.  She watched him for a moment.

From the way he had danced about the wood on the way here, she thought he must be a much happier being that she.  She envied him in that way.  She had once been able to be light enough of heart to dance about the wood and celebrate her life and all that she had.  This was long ago.  And she missed that feeling... or did she?  It had been such a long time since her heart had felt light that she could not quite remember what it was like to feel that way.  Such a thought merely drew her further into darkness.  Aware of this, she drew her mind away.

"Yes," she said in response to him.  "No other person has entered into my home."  She paused, as if thinking.  Her green eyes momentarily looked up to the ceiling before she returned her gaze to meet his.  "You are the first visitor."  She smiled ever so slightly at this, but the expression was soon lost.  In her home, the light was dim, and it was somewhat difficult to see.  Aware of this fact, she looked to the candles, lighting them with a single thought of intent.  She wasn't much for using magic; her skill mostly lay within healing, but she did know some of the simpler tricks.  

She observed him silently as he looked at the picture of her and her late husband.  "Not at all," she said when he spoke to her.  "I just thought you looked so uncomfortable out there," she said with an honest tone.  "This isn't much better, but here you will not have to sleep in the grass or the dirt."  Here, she smiled and the expression remained on her features.  She nodded to the picture.  "My husband, Gareth," she said sentimentally.  "But that was long ago..."  Her voice was almost  sad, but it was clear that for the most part she had accepted this fact at last.  

"That's why I'm here, you know; I needed to escape from society.  I think that inside, I blamed them for his death; he died in my arms in a battle we had fought."  She gaze had drifted slowly toward the ground as she relived those terrible moments.  She lifted her head once more, and continued.  "I used to be more of an adventurer, though it's been a very long time since I've been on any noble quest of any sort."  She laughed quietly.

She looked to the flap that was her door as a breeze fluttered in.  She could see the sunlight shining brightly outside.  "Have you had any breakfast, yet?"  Her guess was that he hadn't.

[Anonymous]

The inside of the home is indeed a welcome change, in some ways. There is a certain quality to it that he has not felt in a long time. By and large, the interior of the homes he sees are limited to the front door, the hallway and or stairs, and then the bedroom. Not a lot of time to feel particularly cozy in it - not that in those situations he'd even want to, in any case.

If there is one thing he loves about the outdoors though, it is the wind. Here in the forest he could feel it, fresh and clear. It carried to him all the scents of the woodlands around him, refreshed him and reinvigorated him. It was as much a part of him as he was a part of it, and being able to feel its touch always does wonders for his mood. This is especially important on days where he wakes up in the middle of god damned nowhere with no shoes.

"It's more than enough. I'm just grateful that you had the decency to come and collect me out of the woods, and even bring me to your home. I don't meet many women or men like you. So, I'm honoured to be your first guest." One arm is folded over his chest as he speaks to support the elbow of the other, a single finger tapping gently at his lower lip as he regards the portrait where it rests for a moment longer. "Many would have left me. Or done something worse."

The finger comes away from his lip, stretching forwards to touch the portrait when the candles suddenly come to life. He pauses, glancing around himself at the now-lit little hut before looking back to her with his finger still in the air, "Ah, don't be silly. This is much better than the grass, a bed is always welcome to me." He smiles as he speaks, looking back to the photo with his hand still held in the air. It makes all of another inch, when Uruviel mentions how her husband died.

His hand freezes in the air, stockstill as his stare glazes over for a passing second. His hand returns to his side without ever touching the picture, however, and the look disappears. He glances back at her now with his once-again grateful smile, "I have not, actually. If you are offering, you are too kind - you've already helped me out of the woods, so to speak."

[Anonymous]

Here, in her home, she was not so much on the defensive.  Being indoors with another made her feel less like she needed to protect herself and more like she was hosting a party of sorts, although she didn't know why.  She watched Varcan while she spoke, and also in those small periods of time when there was silence.  He was a strange fellow, she thought.  They way he moved and did things; they weren't necessarily strange, but different.  Perhaps it was just the fact that she had only been around herself for a long time.  She undid her belt and draped it over the one chair that was in the hut, which was located near the farthest wall.  She wouldn't need that for now, and it would only add weight and be cumbersome.  If she really had to, she could always defend herself in other ways.

"Not at all," she said.  "I feel like I need to slowly re-immerse myself into the world of civilization, anyway.  Honestly, if you had come a couple hundred years ago, I don't know what I would have done to you." She laughed, but she was serious.  She might have just left him to fend for himself, or she might have killed him in some unjustified rampage to get revenge.  Although a healer, she also been a warrior at one point and could distance herself when killing.  But deep inside, she knew that killing was something that she did not like to do... at least to those who really did not deserve it.

She was glad that he was not displeased with her humble home.  That made her feel a little better.  "Thank you," she said in response.  She watched him as he appeared to want to reach out to touch the picture of Gareth and her, but did not.  She wondered why he had wanted to touch it.  He could have if he wanted, and she would not have minded.  Strange...

"It's no problem at all," she said, waving her hand as if to wave away his statement.  "Besides, I have not yet had my breakfast either."  She moved a couple steps toward the rug at the center.  Kneeling, she lifted it, revealing a handle in the ground.  She pulled it and within the hole it revealed were several things such as cheeses, wines, and salted meat.  There was also a loaf of bread that she may or may not have stolen from the window sill of some cottage a couple day's ride; most of it was eaten, but there was some left.  She did not feel like going out on a hunt or going out to pick berries, so she would do what she could.  She took out all the elements within except the wine, and replaced the ground and rug.  

"I hope you don't mind eating this.  I don't have any utensils, but these are foods which can be eaten with your hands."  She did go and get one of the knives from her belt.  This way she could cut the meat, cheese, and bread.  She did so, putting meat and cheese on the bread, handing it to Varcan.  She began to eat as well.

"So why are you here?" she asked again.  "I mean, how did you end up in this forest, do you know?"

[Anonymous]

Varcan quirks a well-maintained pale eyebrow upwards slightly, though his smile does not lessen in the least as he turns around now to properly face her. "Then I suppose I am fortunate I did not get lost in these woods a few hundred years ago, or you may not have been so hospitable. That would have been an unpleasant thing to wake up to, being feathered by arrows or something equally painful."

Varcan gestures flippantly with his hand as he moves away from the portrait now, taking a few seconds to roam about the inside of Uruviel's hut as they speak. It is a small place, but he is curious about much of what he sees lining shelves. For such a small little home, there are a number of curious trinkets that attract his attention. One such trinket, some silver bauble of some sort, is the first on his list of 'to go look at'. He leans in, peering at it intently as he speaks over his shoulder to her, "Though, what has made you change your mind? A few hundred years is a long way to become set in one's ways. I think it's progress that you even wish to slowly begin re-immersing yourself in the society you left behind. Many would not even consider it."

He looks, but he does not touch. A curious nature has taught him that touching strange things can result in any number of things, including explosions and fiery holocausts. Anything that has to do with him and the surrounding area being buried beneath a fireball is not something he wants to investigate very deeply. He does however lean rather close to everything to inspect it in a rather owlish manner. The subject of food, however, is far more interesting to someone with an empty stomach than non-edible trinkets.

The medley of meat, cheese and bread - better known as a sandwich - is taken gratefully by Varcan who shakes his head. "Not at all, I am just glad to be fed. I don't think I've eaten in at least a day now. I don't recall eating last night, at least. I was at some kind of.. Celebration, I guess you could call it. A party. How I got from there to here, though, is a mystery to me. I'd sure like to know though." Enough talking, now it is sandwich-eating time. He tucks in promptly.

[Anonymous]

The elf shot him a mischievous look.  "Or something with sharp claws and a merciless jaw."  She was referring of course to her ability to shape shift, but of course Varcan did not know this about her yet.  She left the comment at that.  It wasn't an important fact, and she was honestly not sure why she had mentioned it.  She had been persecuted against in the past because of it.  But then again... that was, in a way, how she had met Gareth.  Both of them could shape-shift, although he was limited to a brown hawk while her gift was limitless.  She had shape-shifted several times when food was scarce and  her elven form was of no help.  She had never done it often though, because she felt it gave her an unfair advantage in certain situations.  She was all about fair chances, which had been her downfall in the past.

"You must remember that the reason why I am here is because I held a grudge against society," she began.  "I can survive in solitude, but I, personally, am not a solitary creature by nature.  I have always loved to be in the company of others."  She laughed a sad laugh to herself.  "But I didn't come here to establish a vendetta; I came here to reconcile my own problems with society.  I didn't know this at first, but I've had a lot of time to think it all through.  I wasn't really running from society, I was running from myself."  She paused, as if considering something.  Her green eyes lifted upwards, but she saw nothing.  She was looking into herself.  "But...  Just because I admit it to myself doesn't mean I want to accept it, even if it is my own advice I'm trying to follow."  She sighed.  "I suppose I needed a little nudge out of the door."  She smiled and gazed at Varcan thoughtfully.

"Most of those are alright to touch," she said, having been watching his seeming curiosity come out.  Varcan seemed very curious, always wanting to touch.  "They are just a bunch of healing potions I've made over the years of my existence.  That was my forte at one point: healing."

She began to eat her own meal, biting down and ripping off a large chunk.  She wasn't rude about it, but her eating habits were slightly out of touch, especially for an elf.  Out here in the wilderness, she had forgotten how to be civilized.  When your only colleagues are the animals and the plants, your habits tend to slowly resemble theirs.  She chewed quietly; this skill she had acquired in order to keep her meal out of the interest of other starving creatures in the middle of winter.  It was difficult at times to keep your meal to yourself during those harsh months.

She listened to Varcan's explanation as to how he had not eaten.  "A party?  Well, it's been a long time since I've been to a party, but I don't think that the one you were at sounds like a very pleasant event.  Back in my day, if you fell asleep in one place, you woke up in that same place.  I don't think you could have wandered off this far on your own no matter in what state of mind you were. "  She seemed concerned.

[Anonymous]

Varcan would certainly reply to her were he not very busy at the moment with the sandwich clasped carefully between both of his hands and held in front of his face. It took him until the very first bite to realize just how very hungry he was indeed. Obviously, he knew he was hungry, but there's always that certain realization after the first bite that lets someone know just how empty their stomach is. It rather hit Varcan like a ton of a bricks, and were it not for his own conscience reminding him 'manners', he might have just ignored the one who fed him in order to eat.

Thus he pauses, halfway through the sandwich, to look up at Uruviel. He does not speak for a second, as a mouthful of food will do that. The sandwich is swallowed and lowered down from his face now, "Sharp claws?" His voice is quiet, quiet enough that he really appears to be speaking more to himself at the moment. His eyes drift away from Uruviel, glancing around the hut again briefly, checking for any wolves or bears lurking the corners he might have missed. Maybe a water bowl with the name 'Fido' on the side. It certainly doesn't appear like she has any pets lurking about.

When his gaze returns to her, he smiles one of his trademark small little smiles, "Well everyone needs a little help now and again. Sometimes its for something grand, like a war between nations, and sometimes it can be as simple as someone wanting to reconnect with their world and themselves." Sandwich time! He falls silent again in order to devour the remaining half of the sandwich still clasped in his hands.

When he is finished - signaled by licking the tip of one of his index fingers - he lowers his arms to his sides and leans forwards into a proper bow before Uruviel. His creamy-coloured hair swings forwards over his shoulders, swaying gently in the motion before he pulls himself upright again. "Thank you, for feeding me," he announces earnestly, the expression on his face one of sincerity.

He sighs a little as he comes out of the somewhat rigid stance he had been in to facilitate the bow, nodding his head at her when she speaks of just how far he managed to come without even knowing he had. "I wish I knew how I got here. The latter half of the night is still a foggy blur. I'm rather hoping if I give it a little while, and just keep trying to slowly recall what happened to me, I'll be able to put all the pieces of the puzzle together." He pauses, glancing upwards slightly as a look of one who is thinking passes over him. "How far, exactly, am I from civilization anyway? Does this forest have a name?" He lifts a hand up to gesture to the door they entered from, to the woodlands beyond. The hand is retracted hesitantly as he adds, "Do you think we could go outside?"

[Anonymous]

She chewed somewhat noisily, chewing with her mouth slightly open.  She had found, out here alone in the wilderness, that when she ate noisily, things seemed to taste better.  Or perhaps it wasn't that they tasted better; perhaps it was that the noise had taken up some of the empty silence during meal times, kept the atmosphere from being too eerie.  Either way, she did enjoy to eat this way.  She took another large bite of the bread, meat, and cheese ensemble.  Mmmm... So simple, and yet so wonderful!  She smiled to herself, her nose wiggling at her own delight.  Out here, she was her own entertainment; she was used to pleasing herself.  

She giggled at Varcan's first inquiry; such a sound had not been released for a long time.  But she could not help it now; she was feeling a bit playful for some reason.  She leaned forward as she gave her response.  "I'm a bit of a shifter," she explained.  "Out here, it's easier sometimes to shift into more vicious forms."  She smiled.  She was suddenly reminded of Gareth.  She pointed to the picture.  "He was, too; his form was a brown hawk.  My forms are limitless as far as animals go, but I was a hawk as well, with him.  A white one."  She reminisced for a moment, smiling distantly as she gazed into the depths of the image.  What wonderful days those had been.

She nodded, her attention returning to Varcan.  "Oh yes, quite true; everyone could need help at least once in their lifetime.  No matter how experienced, how intelligent, or how wise."  She thought for a moment.  A single finger lifted to her face, resting on her bottom lip.  She looked as if she were about to say something, but thought against it.  She saw how involved he was in his food, and realized that he must have been very hungry.  Thus, she was content to allow him to get his fill; she needed to get her fill as well.  She continued to eat, chewing noisily the large chunks she ripped.  When finished, she waited patiently for him to do so as well.  

She got up to return the knife she had used to cut the foods to its place on her belt.  She remained where the belt was and turned around to watch him for a moment.  She smiled.  "Oh, not at all," she said, waving his thanks away.  "The food wasn't going to keep forever anyway."  She watched as he stood.  She continued to be intrigued by his appearance.  In her eyes, there was something effeminate about him, but it was pleasant to the eyes.  Overall, his appearance contrasted with her own.  He was pale, quite well dressed while she was somewhat darker, although her fair elven blood protected her from getting too dark, and she was dressed like a wild woman.  She sighed to herself, enjoying the contrast.

"Ah yes," she said.  "Time is always the best remedy when trying to remember that which is forgotten.  Anyway, it's not entirely important how you got here.  At least you are safe and did not meet some terrible end."  She paused.  "Well, you are not that far from civilization, but considering the way in which you arrived, you are quite far.  It's about a five hour walk, I'd say, so honestly I have no idea how you could have possibly come here; here being the Draconi Forest near the city of Adela, I believe it's called.  I could be wrong about the city, though.  Things change, sometimes."

She put on her belt, feeling better than her weapons were near.  Turning, she walked toward Varcan and opened the flap to let him out.  "Of course; I was thinking the same.  I much prefer being outside to being inside anyway."  She inhaled the scent of the wild, and sighed with pleasure.  Upon a second inhale, she caught a faint scent of something else... but she didn't know what.  Then it was gone.  She was disconcerted, but ignored it.  It was gone, anyway; nothing to worry about.