"Huh? Village... goblins...?"

Goblinda frowned; She clearly was putting effort into attempting to recall what the talking cat spoke of... But it seemed mostly for naught. Despite her pondering, she came up with nothing; Not even the slightest inkling that correlated the cat-not-cat's story. While she thought, kitty still in hand, Linda tapped her chin a bit as well, thinking on Morthil's question. She'd recovered enough of her poise in spite of everything to shake off the feeling of dread that had nearly devoured her earlier.

"Your village... ah, you mean the one that Goblinda escaped with you from, I take it. Where you'd been resting... Well..." She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then braced herself for the news she had to deliver in regards to it. "I... fear I don't exactly have 'good' news. Word by courier reached Ketra yesterday morning of a village some half-day's journey from here, near the mountain's base... Or rather, what was a village. Sounded like the entire town was razed to the ground-- strangely enough, in a mix of red and green flames. There were... no survivors, as far as I know." She explained, sorrow in her words as she tried to lessen the blow to the poor man as best she could.

~~~

She hurt. Her arms hurt. Her head hurt. Her legs hurt. Everything hurt. Accured flames and the soot of charred bodies filled her lungs. Singed her eyes. She couldn't stop the bleeding from her forehead, which further impaired her vision-- Nor could she stop the pulsing wound on her chest, which stained her platinum armor blood red. Yet her spear parried yet another blow from the massive battleaxe of an opponent she was too blinded to clearly see-- her ears serving her well even amidst the crackling flames and the uneven footing.

"Hah... hah... DAMN YOU! FALL!!!" Roared a dangerous, powerful voice, unfamiliar to her. Even through her blurred vision, the burst of green flames which suddenly flared forth were still plain to see-- A nimble leap to her right to evade them, then a dash forward from the very air she'd leapt into. Her spear was poised to pierce directly through her foe's chest-- a matching wound for the one he'd given her while protecting the kitten. He had no other choice-- Releasing his axe, he caught the incoming spear with both hands, just before it ripped through his chest. She wounded him all the same-- she could feel the blade puncture something, at least-- but it was a shallow wound. He yet remained standing and, with herculean force, swung her by her own weapon before releasing the spear, along with her, and sending both into a burning pile of debris-- the remains of a home, most like.

Good. He'd thrown her away from the kitten. He yet approached, having recovered his battleaxe. Though she could barely stand-- barely breathe-- she smiled. She would've been really sad if the kitten's fur had gotten burned.

~~~

"Ugh!"

Morthil found sudden freedom; The goblin that'd been holding him suddenly released him, as if shocked by lightning. Not even a moment later, she'd crumbled to her knees, clutching her head in pain as if a seething red blade had stabbed right through her skull. "L-Lin!? What's wrong?" The brunette stuttered, her heart set to racing once more as she quickly moved to the Goblin's side, attempting to steady her a bit on her knees. "I... My head..." The red-headed goblin muttered, before attempting to shrug off the effects of her sudden migraine... if it could be called that.

"Your head...? Could... Could your memory loss be related to some kind of physical trauma after all?"

There was a dead-tone silence-- even the sound of the river was drowned out by the deafening drumming of the thugs' heartbeats as Snarg 'barked' back at them, dogs that they all were. Everyone seemed to freeze in place; even the loudest of them, fueled by the sweltering heat and prior evening's humiliations shut up for a moment's time. Eventually, however, everyone seemed to find their voices again... and unfortunately, that included the mouthy man. "...SPECIFIC!?" Rang out his loud voice, as he now trembled with adrenaline-- his body walking the fine line between 'fight' and 'flight'. "You want fucking specific!? I'll give you fucking specific!" He practically roared, kicking his foot off of the resting beast of a man, before drawing his--

"Enough. Put that toy away."

The desert thug paused-- the curved blade at his waist half-unsheathed. The voice wasn't Snarg's, nor did it belong to any of the other bandits-- twas Kiri's, who, feeling well-enough rested, finally decided to speak up. One of the men, the one closest to her, tensed a little as she slowly began to stand, the river water draining from her legs and thighs as she did so. Close as he was, the thug nearest Kiri took a proper look at her in the process; His eyes naturally drawn toward the curves of her body, tightly compacted by bandaging and little else. He glanced over the blackened metal gorget and tassets on her person-- odd choices of rainment given that she was practically in the nude else-wise, before grinning to himself a little. She had a little fight in her, it seemed! He liked that. Too bad for her that she didn't think to pick up that sword before she stood, he thought to himself before reaching out to grab her by the face with his right hand.

"Hey, hey-- easy there, lil' lady. Wouldn't want you to--"

His hand didn't even make it to her face. Hell, it didn't even make it near to her face. The few fingers that were closest— the three fingers of his right hand— plopped to the shallow river below like little pebbles, staining the waters with thin streams of red. The poor guy didn't even see it happen; Perhaps no one did. The moment his mind caught up to the scalding, throbbing pain in his hand however, he let out a sharp, horrified scream of pain.

"That was three fingers." 

The man stumbled backwards into the river proper— fear flooding his mind and blood spurting from the lumps where his fingers had been. He hadn't seen her move. Her goddamned sword was still on the ground! What the hell just happened!? "In my era, you'd have lost the entire arm— but as you are but a dog, a light scolding will suffice. This one time."

The woman nearest to the camels paled. The calmer of the three men's eyes shifted from his brash companion to the still-seated Snarg, and then to Kiri, who only now knelt down to collect her blade. It was an odd thing; The truth of it was hard to say, but the fallen bandit could've sworn that moment her hands touched the sword's hilt, the very air around them all seemed to still... and grow colder. Magic? Or madness?

"...Wha," Began the 'brash' bandit, eyes wild as they darted between Kiri and Snarg now. "What... what the fuck did you—"

"You are all dogs; Every last one. Dogs riding camels. Dogs barking at resting dogs. Theiving dogs. You are like children... Making noise, biting at one another, stumbling about without reason. Without order. I grow tired of it— and so I will put an end to it." Her tone couldn't have held more disdain if it were a top athlete in a Thanati Weightlifting Competition. Her gaze passed tastelessly over the five dogs in her presence, before landing on the most 'clean' of them... physically. And only because she'd thrown said 'clean dog' into the river earlier. "Speak. What petty theft does this hyena speak of? Do you even know?" She probed, her tone relatively even— if you could call her general RBE (Resting Bitch Existence) 'even'.

Shuffling in the distance alerted the three men to the fact that while Kiri spoke, the woman with them— the apparent 'smartest' of them— made good her escape from the entire situation, having mounted her camel haphazardly as quickly as she could and rushed off in the opposite direction without so much as a word to her comrades. "P-Parkha!!" The bleeding man screamed after her, half enraged at the apparent betrayal, half fearful that she was leaving them to their deaths at the hands of the two warriors. Kiri spared but a single glance toward the escaping bandit before frowning— her mood souring at the sight.

"Feckless mutt."

There was a pregnant, uncomfortable pause-- none of the proposed answers had been answered. All three of the people in the room stood, or sat, in silence as the dynamic between them was shattered, and slwoly began to reform. Linda moved first-- still somewhat in disbelief, she reached forward with her right hand-- slowly, uncertainly-- until she touched the goblin girl's cheek. The look on her face was incredulous-- as if Linda was trying to figure out what exactly was standing in front of her.

"...Lin...? It's... It's me, Linda-- Do you... do you not remember me?"

Beneath her question was a rather obvious undertone of hurt. The lost little goblin could hear it, just as well as Linda could hear it herself-- but could anyone blame her? In that silence, she came to terms with a horrifying realization-- one far scarier than watching Goblinda return from an adventure, battered and covered in blood. At least those wounds recovered with time-- But her mind? 'Goblinda' stared back at Linda with a perplexed, concerned expression-- a fitting reaction to Linda's own fearful gaze.

"I... Should I remember you?"

You could practically hear the sound of Linda's heart shattering like glass at Goblinda's words. The goblin looked down at her hands, as if seeing them for the first time while her companion stared blankly at her, unsure of what more to say or do in the situation. Internally, she could've broken down in tears on the spot. The unfamiliar gaze of her best friend was like a cold knife to the chest-- severing the relationship they'd built over half a decade. Despite that, she simply took a deep breath and sighed; Managing to maintain her composure in the face of the situation before her. This wasn't the time for her to be weak; She needed to remain strong, for Goblinda's sake.

"It's okay-- I'm sure you must be very confused right now. I'm sorry if I startled you."

Morthil's voice alerted both to his presence, breaking the somewhat uneasy air between them. Linda had moved to speak, but was interrupted by a much faster, much louder goblin-- who rushed forth and, like an eagle striking down upon it's prey, performed a tactical swoop-and-glomp upon the orange cat before anyone could think to tell her otherwise. "KITTY!" She proclaimed, scooping the cat up into her strong arms, once again locking it's freedom away behind a prison of goblin muscle and childish exuberance. Linda was momentarily stunned at the sight, up until the goblin girl turned back to the sitting woman and showed her the cat-- as if she hadn't already been aware of him. "Look, a talking kitty! Is this your kitty?" She asked, wielding the cat with outstretched arms and an iron grip.

Linda's surprised eventually faded into a sad, yet somewhat relieved smile at the girl's antics. "He's not mine, no. But do be careful with him, if you wouldn't mind? He seems to have hurt his front paw." She explained with a little chuckle. At least deep down, memories or not, Goblinda was still her pure-hearted, childlike self.

The string of unknown words and sounds was not lost on Linda, who, despite not knowing what Morthil was saying, could understand a frustrated tone of voice when she heard one. Whatever was said, it wasn't pleasant-- the apology that followed all but confirming that. And perhaps even further confirmation was the sudden bite that followed-- the cat sinking it's teeth into Goblinda's cradling arm. "Oh-- oh dear," Was the best she could manage in response, the aggression seeming to have-- in her mind-- come out of nowhere. Granted, she had much, much more patience for dealing with the goblin girl than arguably anyone else could ever dream of having... but still.

Meanwhile, in immediate response to the bite, Goblinda... did nothing. Which, honestly, was equal parts impressive and concerning. Morthil's fangs struck true, but left little more than a scratch; The little green girl's skin was abnormally tough... like tanned leather, or the bark of a tree many generations old. It was hard to say if she actually felt it or not-- But what she didn't do was wake up.

"Well... we won't be waking her up by force, I suppose, but that did give me an idea..." Tapping her chin, Linda stood and returned to the table once more-- and more importantly, the tray of food. "You asked about how long 'Lin and I have known each other? I think... 6, maybe 7 years? She travels here and there all the time, taking on new adventures-- but eventually, she always comes back 'home'. I s'pose deep down, she still feels like she needs to protect me, somehow."

There were still beef steaks left, but they weren't what she was looking for. No, this time her eyes were on another big piece of meat-- One which was a little... 'safer' to hold for her next attempted idea. What was it? A large drumstick-- the likes of which animal it came from, who could say? All that really mattered was that it was seared to relative perfection, and seasoned with imported sea salts and herbs-- something the entire room could tell as it's smell wafted about from the moment she picked it up. She even went so far as to hold it overhead, almost as if claiming some grand prize in victory. "This one's her favorite! I think it'll work." The woman cheerfully explained, before heading back toward the bed.

What was her grand plan, one might wonder? Before, she'd practically stuffed the steak into the slobbering goblin's mouth to sate her. Now, as she loomed over Goblinda's resting form, she placed the drumstick just above her mouth-- holding it right under her nose, where the smell was at it's strongest. The result, to her pleasure, was almost instantaneous-- Goblinda's little sniffer got to work, taking in the scent of the poultry meat and her head shifted a bit as she attempted to bite at it. But Linda was quicker, and much more clever-- rather than letting her have it, she pulled it away, little by little, and as she expected, the sleeping goblin unknowingly followed the meat, shifting and turning from her spot on the bed-- and more importantly, letting go of her grasp of Morthil in the process. "'Atta girl, 'Lin!" The woman praised her goblin friend, who yet continued to crawl toward the smell, until she could crawl no further-- primarily due to the fact that there was no more bed to crawl on-- and stumbled right out of the bed, onto her face.

"Oof. Um..."

"Ow..."

Linda's eyes lit up with delight at the sound of the familiar voice. She wasn't sure just having her fall out of bed would be enough, but to her great joy the little redhead slowly began to right herself on the floor near the bed, groggily looking around as if she weren't sure if she were still dreaming. "'Lin! Oh, thank goodness. You scared me a bit, there!" She swooped down, scooping up the little goblin in her arms for a warm, hefty hug.

"...Lin? Am I Lin?"

A hug which quickly dissipated into concern as Linda loosened her grip on her friend and pulled her away a little to look her in the face-- a face filled with complete and utter confusion.

"Who... are you? Where am I?"

Linda quietly listened to Morthil's story— giggling a little at his dry humor and nodding acceptingly at his struggles. She wasn't one to judge others— Morthil would be quick enough to learn that, if the fact that she was caring holistically for a talking cat... elf... person, and a goblin, wasn't already proof enough.  She waited patiently for him to finish his story, before sighing a wistful sigh. Poor thing. She couldn't possibly know what sort of 'pranks' he got up to in his past life, but it was quite the punishment to be branded as something you hate.

"Trouble courts trouble, to be more accurate— Trust me, I would know." Linda explained, nodding to herself at her wise words as if rather impressed that she had said them. "My father-- may he rest in peace-- was a leviman... and a bit of a gold shark. As a younger girl, I never really understood how his tax hikes on the imported goods he traded caused a lot of the poverty in our hometown-- I was always just happy to never really want or need for anything. He'd pushed a bit too much of an outrageous price hike on wares one day... and we were chased from our homes for it. We... we were ambushed on the road to Ketra by goblins. I was captured, and he... well. He didn't make it." Linda closed her eyes, offering a momentary prayer to the departed. She had no allusions of her father now, as a grown woman; He was a corrupt man, and she had been a pampered, oblivious child because of it. But regardless of what he'd done... he was still her father. "If it wasn't for Goblinda, I probably would've spent the rest of my life in a goblin lair."

Taking a finger to her chin, Linda pivoted the subject a bit-- growing uncomfortable at the very thought. "I'm sorry to say I'm not terribly familiar with elven culture, or elven magics besides. Didn't seem like our hermit was very clear on it either... So I might not be able to help you with your little... um... kitty conundrum." She fought (and lost to) a slowly-spreading smile on her lips. Who could blame her? Unfortunate as his story was, the fact that he'd been turned into an... an orange cat, was just...

*NOM*

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Lin..."

A familiar prickling sensation set upon Morthil-- though this time not at his neck, but the back of his furry little head. Indeed; while they talked, Goblinda had finished off the steak in her mouth, and, on pure instinct, gone for another steak-- a cat steak. A cat skull, to be more precise, but it didn't seem like the little green goblin could tell the difference. Not at first, at least. But before Linda could make it to the table and back with another steak, the Goblin had already spat out the poor thing, leaving the run of the back of his head and neck covered in goblin saliva. Which was like human saliva, but... more... saliva-y.

A sigh of relief escaped Linda's mouth. Well, at least she didn't TRULY have to worry about her eating him. Just maiming, apparently. "Sorry, on her behalf... she's usually a lot better about her table manners." The woman attempted to explain, nonsensical as the explanation was.

Linda's face reflected her puzzled mind as she closed her eyes and thought on the question that the strange cat-creature had presented. She pondered for a good moment, as if working through a right proper response... before shrugging with a smile. "...Maybe!" She happily replied, as she went to grab another beef steak. Despite her small stature, Goblinda was making considerable progress through the one that had been stuffed in her mouth prior— it wouldn't be long before she was biting at the air— and potentially the cat— once again.

"I honestly wish I could say that this was normal for her... but I'm not really a goblin expert, and even among their kind, Lil' Linda's a bit of a... well, an oddity, as I'm sure you've probably guessed by now."

Goblinda gave a reassuring squeeze to the floof pillow that was Morthil; almost as if unconsciously agreeing.

"She has... a unique? Physiology. She's a lot stronger than any other goblin I've ever met, and she can shrug off fatal wounds by just... well, bathing. It's all very, very weird." Linda had made her way back toward the bed, this time with not one but two steaks. One, obviously, was for the ravenous Goblinda, who was near to finishing the first— bone and all. The other, with a little finesse, she was able to place closer to Morthil— yet still far enough away from Lin's mouth to prevent her from being too greedy. "You must be hungry as well, no?" She asked kindly, a gentle smile on her face as she went to sit back down. "While we wait for your... 'captor', to wake up, why don't you tell me more about yourself, if you're comfortable with me asking? You're certainly not a cat... but I don't think you're human, either. At least, the hermit I asked to examine you two didn't think you were."

Linda couldn't help but giggle sweetly at the antics of the cat that wasn't really a cat and the goblin girl in bed. Sure, she certainly felt sorry for the creature-- whatever it truly was, and she could only imagine how restless it probably felt, stuck in Goblinda's grasp. But... really, just look at them. She covered her mouth to prevent herself from openly grinning at the two, before lightly adding her own two cents in. "She seems to have grown pretty attached to you, in a short amount of time." It was really all she could say with a somewhat straight face. Could you blame her?

"At the very least, now I have a somewhat better understanding of what lead you two here... Right, well I suppose I'd better get explaining, then." Propping herself up a bit, as if to try to act a little more 'official' than she currently had been, Linda continued on. "We're in Ketra, right now. Capital city of Adela... though if you were staying in a village near-ish to here, you probably already knew that. I'm not sure how far you traveled to get here, but Goblinda carried you all the way from wherever you were, here-- and she wasn't exactly in good shape when she got here, either. Barely conscious, lost quite a bit of blood-- I was honestly a little worried I was going to lose her."

Linda paused for a moment, her eyes lowering a bit from the pair on the bed, to her own legs. That was the first time she'd said it out loud, now that she thought about it. Sure, the fear had run through her mind while she'd been caring for the goblin girl, but that very moment was the first in which she'd openly admitted just how close the entire situation was-- at least, to her eyes. It wasn't exactly uncommon for Little 'Lin to return from some adventure with a wound or two... But the blood, the burns... It was surreal.

"...Ahem. Um, believe it or not, she wouldn't let you go, even in that state-- so I figured I'd just clean you both up, and put you to bed." She said, before standing once more, and moving back toward the table. On the tray she'd placed, there were a variety of foods-- among them, the plate stacked the highest was one with what looked like beef steaks-- medium rare, if that. "You've both been asleep for 3 days-- So to keep you... well, 'safe', I've been making sure to bring her meals, since she--"

Linda couldn't finish in time. Really, she didn't have to-- Morthil likely very quickly figured out what she was about to say, as Goblinda unknowingly drew her favorite body pillow a little closer to her face and then... chomp. Right into the poor cat's neck. Not too harshly, mind-- It was more of a love bite than anything, given how razor sharp those teeth in her mouth were. But Linda sighed all the same, realizing she needed to do something before the silly little goblin got any further ideas. Picking up one of the beef steaks, she quickly trotted back over to the bed, and, after a gentle apology to Morthil, reached down and pried-- as best she could-- Goblinda's mouth back open. It was a daunting task, one which Linda seemed way too familiar with, and as soon as she'd managed just enough space, she took the beef steak and stuffed it between her lips-- replacing Morthil with it. Goblinda seemingly grumbled throughout, as if protesting, but eventually relaxed back into peaceful slumber with a steak in her mouth.

"Nice!" Proclaimed Linda, giving herself a mental pat on the back and a fist pump. "Didn't even cut my finger that time!"

The loud cry, surprisingly, did little to rouse the goblin girl. Surprising, honestly-- given how big and somewhat floppy her ears were, you'd think she would be more susceptible to noise than anyone. Yet instead of opening her eyes, she unconsciously tightened her grip on the orange cat, snuggling him a bit closer to her like a body pillow as she continued to snore away. This was particularly problematic-- Goblinda had a bad habit of drooling and nibbling on anything within nomming distance of her mouth while asleep, and though she hadn't resorted to biting just yet, she couldn't help but drool all over the poor cat in her grasp... out of affection, surely.

"Oh, dear-- it sounds like the cat woke up... Be right back," Came a muffled voice from some distance away, outside of the room. The door was thankfully open; Morthil's yowling may not have reached Goblinda, but they seemingly reached... someone.

Said 'someone' slowly popped into the room just a few moments later; A brunette woman of some 20 or more years. And a pretty woman, at that; Her eyes shifted between sterling silver and emerald green, dependent on the way light reflected off of them, and her peach-skin seemed to nearly glow in the ambient light granted by the room's windows. Save for a few freckles across her face, and a taller, slightly more meaty build, she might've passed for a Serenian moreso than an Adelan. Her garb-- a plain, traditional, tan-and-white Adelan dress was a bigger giveaway than anything else.

"Cats are usually the heavier sleepers... but I suppose you're not an ordinary cat, right?" She spoke up, before taking a few steps further in. It was only when she fully rounded the doorway that it became apparent she wasn't wandering in empty-handed; She carried with her a tray, upon which there were an assortment of traditional meats, porridge and a couple of cups, which she quickly went to set down on the table. The tray must have weighed at least half of a person; It was no wonder she was quick to be rid of it.

"Phew... that should do. Sorry, friend-- I tried tending to your little paw as best I could, but Lin wouldn't let go of you... Still hasn't, I see. But I'm getting ahead of myself-- You must be so confused as to where you are, and why... Sorry." So saying, she took a chair from the table she'd set the tray down at, walked over toward the bed, and sat down for a spell to chat. She seemed rather at peace with the fact that a goblin was resting just next to her-- She clearly wasn't... well, 'normal', but who was anymore? "My name is Linda-- Lin for short, I suppose. I own a few storefronts here in Ketra, and help out from time to time with administration for guildwork. No need to worry about pretending to be a cat with me," She said with a proud smile, though a layer of mischief played underneath her words, "I've been fluent in beastspeak for years... but you tend to mutter in your sleep. In common tongue." She teased, before crossing her legs. 

"I know this all must seem very strange-- but why don't you tell me your name? And how you ended up in 'Lin's... um... 'care'?"

A silent gloom fell over the duet of warriors as they sat; The midday sun as radiant as it was oppressing. Essyrn's heat was ill-mitigated by course of the river, soothing though it was. Despite the heat, however, Kiri felt not a bead of sweat run down her brow... A likely side effect of the transient state of her soul. Curious-- if a little disturbing. An ever-present reminder of her circumstances, that she was no long truly an inhabitant of this world... Moreso a stranger in a strange land, or a figment of history's imagination.

"Down there!"

She took a moment to take in a long, deep breath, expanding her lungs and revitalizing her body. The skittering footpads had gone from a distant echo to a very noticeable clamor, and now were accompanied by the tell-tale jingle of tempered metal against metal, and the  flapping of leather against skin. Those weren't random animals mucking about in the distance-- they were camels, with leather straddling mounts and-- as was typically the case-- leather-clad men and women doing said straddling on mounts.

The stink of the animals was already more or less upon her heightened senses before they even closed in; Thankful was she that she thought to savor the last bits of air before they drew closer.

"Scumbag! Thought you'd escape us after the stunt you pulled last night, huh?" The accusation was thrown like a foul, month-old fish at the back of Snarg's head, as four hooded figures hurriedly approached the two resting souls at the riverbank, dismounting their camels and strutting toward the two resting warriors. They were an intriguing lot; the leather armor they wore was fairly uniform, with a few deviations between one another out of preference. All bore the same insignia on their right shoulderpad; That of a front-facing lion's head, with wings seemingly sprouting from behind. They were all armed, as well-- though that wasn't surprising in this world, all things considered.

Kiri didn't move, in spite of their proximity and hostility. They weren't talking to her-- surely they weren't. She was right, of course-- though not because she somehow knew the future. Moreso did she sense the tension and intent of the scimitar-wielding strangers long before they so much as opened their mouths.

"Thought you'd make a fool of our boss and run off with that bitch of a giant, huh!? Where's our fucking gold!?"

Of the four, two men-- the particularly mouthy one, as well as one other-- were the closest. Neither'd drawn a blade yet, potentially out of concern for scaring off the resting Kiri near to him, or from a show of patience. Granted, the latter seemed particularly incredulous in the circumstances, as not even moments after he'd come in barking as hot as he had, the mouthy man had placed a boot to Snarg's back, rather disrespectfully nudging him to stand up. "Can't fucking believe we had to track you down-- Can't even find that other piece of shit-- But if you don't cough up what you did with our fucking gold...!"

"Tanner, calm down-- you're gunna scare the girl." His nearby compatriot chimed in.

"FUCK THE GIRL! IF I DON'T GET THAT GODDAMN MONEY BACK EVERY LAST ONE OF US IS FUCKING DEAD!!" 'Tanner', apparently, replied in kind.

Said 'girl' finally exhaled, having had a particularly calming meditative breathing session. She could feel her mind sharpening and her awareness heightening with every passing second, as she willed the effects of the poison out of her very being. Good grief-- what a relief to be able to think clearly again. She almost smiled-- but settled for a contented face faulting instead as she opened her eyes and got a proper view of the situation they... or, well, mostly the dog, had gotten into.

Eyes narrowed, teeth bared in a somewhat unhinged grin. Blood yet dripped freely from the still bleeding-out corpse on her spear, rolling down it's length and coating her spearhand in steaming red. Indeed, Goblinda looked practically feral at the moment; Ready and willing to rip and tear into each and every one of the goblins before her. Why? Well heck, why not? They were being mean to the humans, after all! Linda was a human. Linda didn't like when goblins were mean to humans-- so naturally, she had to kill any goblins that were mean to humans!

It was basic common sense, honestly.

The standoff felt as if it lasted ages-- yet there were really only seconds that passed between her declaration and the eventual approach of a... well...

"KITTY!!"

The little orange thing was exhausted to the point of collapse by the time it approached her, which the now-ecstatic, no-longer-blood-crazed Goblin warrior took as permission to abandon her previous train of thought entirely for sole purpose of swooping down and collecting the critter with one fell glomp. Indeed, were it not for the fact that the cat seemed to have lost consciousness already, it might've fainted from the simple fear of her crazed, obsessed expression alone.

And so, darkness claimed the little cat...

...Until it did not. Who could truly say how long had passed in the critter's unconscious state? Certainly not Goblinda, who, along with the orange cat, was now comfortably sleeping in a warm, plush, bed-- certainly not the sort to be found in a burning, ruined village, nor a goblin's den. No, the stone walls and calm, interior decoration of wooden dressers and wool rugs gave the impression that they were somehow much, much removed from the chaos that was Yermomstead.

Two things were rather apparent, wherever they were. The first, surprisingly, was that the right paw of the cat had been attended to; soft cotton and soothing balms wrapped around it's leg, as if it had been cared for rather intensively in it's resting state. The other, more pressing note was... well, Goblinda-- who's still-sleeping, unconscious snuggle-grasp on the cat was essentially vice-like. Nevermind her snoring.

What on earth had happened, and where the heck were they?

Another day. Another incredibly dull conquest.

While havoc yet raged in the village, at it's center sat the eye of the storm... literally. Somewhat separated from the other residential homes, a decent-sized building was likely originally meant to belong to belong to the chief of the village... Yet now all that remained of it was shattered walls, collapsed roofing, and burning debris. Atop it all, seated upon a throne comprised of the ruins of the building itself, was the goblin leader... and what a truly menacing visage he framed. Fresh blood stained his already blotched-red-and-black armor. The remnants of some poor sod's flesh hung from one of the spikes on his left pauldron, likely the result of a flaying. Grim, golden eyes glimmered darkly from beneath an unkempt mop of raven black hair as he, bored, watched the affairs of the town square from afar.

He had to admit, the chief knew the best spot to look over the city; he almost felt bad for destroying it.

"Chief Velgurx! I, ehehe, I come bearing news."

"Report."

Yermomstead was simply one of many conquests that the Velgurx, proclaimed 'chief' goblin of the goblin horde, had sacked. He did so not for food, nor for human women-- He and his clan wanted for neither. No, his aims were far more simplistic... and yet equally complex. "All is, eheh, proceeding apace! Just as your lordship predicted, once we took the east gate, the humans-- ehehehe-- they panicked like trapped rats! Delicious rats, ehehe. Most have been gathered below, at the town square, your lordship!" Below him, and the burning wreckage he'd claimed as his throne, knelt one of his many subordinates; A sniveling little goblin by the name of Glats, who served as his attendant... at least, in foolish matters he couldn't be bothered to attend to. Always seeking approval and praise, ever-so-desperate to ingratiate himself to 'his lordship', Velgurx tended to avoid having to directly interact with the strange little goblin... and understandably grew frustrated when he had to.

"...And you thought this was worth my time?"

"J-jiiiiii--!! W-we-- we also, ehehe, ahem... W-we also found a strange one, among them-- an elf, that the men report is able to transform into a, ehehe-- a cat! Ehe-- P-perhaps... perhaps, methinks, that he is--"

"Fool that you are. My quarry would not so easily succumb to you lot." Glats shuddered at the sharp edge of his master's words-- As if a blade had been pressed to his skull just for the audacity of his implications. Yet Velgurx was motionless-- perfectly calm, equally bored, even as the flames continued to burn around him. "This was yet another failure, in the end. So be it-- I lack the patience to wait while the last of the rodents are rounded up." At last, the goblin chief moved; Standing from his throne of flames, he looked from Glats, and outward toward the open midday skies, now marred by smoke and embers.


"Relay my order; Kill everyone. No survivors."

~~~


At said request, Glats wasted little time; Gleefully, he made for the town's square, where most of the villagers had been gathered now, and held at spear or swordpoint. Children cried; Men and women alike begged for their lives, and cursed the creatures in equal parts. There was a standstill; All of the goblins waited with bated breath for the order to strike, and at last it seemed the time had come as the out-of-breath Glats's voice rang out toward the town square.

"Hi-- His lordship-- His lordship has spoken! Everyone! His orders! Ki--"

"Who the bloody he-- h-hey, wha, whaaaaaa!!!"

Glats's words were cut short-- Not by a villager, not even by one of the waiting executioners... But by one of the wandering goblin soldiers, who screamed fear and bloody murder as he found himself forcibly catapulted from somewhere nearer to the southern gate... to the town square. At TERRIFYING speeds, no less; One villager's eyes just barely happened upon his soon-to-be-corpse piercing the wind itself as he, without warning, collided directly with the goblin that'd been holding a blade to the captured elf. Both were sent for a solid tumble; The flying goblin stopping first, motionless-- dead, it seemed, while the other suffered such grievous injuries from the collision that he couldn't even return to his feet.

"I got two! With one! Yes!!"

Naturally, heads turned toward the southern gate-- Goblins and humans alike. The men and women of the village were kicked aside, blades pulled from their necks and turned defensively toward the direction as a singular figure approached... or, well, 'happily trotted' was probably a more fitting description. Many of the goblins' mouths hung open at the sight, while others, in an understandable moment of confusion, turned to look at one another for validation as the figure drew closer, and was revealed to be... An armor-clad... spear-wielding... warrior-goblin... girl?

Many men and women took the opportunity to stand and attempt escape in the ensuing confusion. The goblins, their concentration and overall confidence shaken, were still mostly stunned; Even Glats didn't exactly know what to say or do in the moment. One unfortunate soldier managed to regain his bearings just quick enough to turn and attempt stopping one of the humans escaping; Alas, within all of 3 seconds of him yelling and running after them, he too was killed-- almost faster than anyone had time to see. Not by a thrown corpse this time; From head to... well, unmentionables, in a single, almost instantaneous leap, the goblin warrior-woman had crossed the distance between them and skewered him like the worst shish kebab possible. Whatever shock the goblin horde had recovered from was only doubled at the sight of the woman thereafter flipping her spear upright-- their killed comrade still skewered to it, and then pointing it's bladed tip forth at the nearest gob.

"WOE! DEATH AND DESTRUCTION BE UPON YA! GOBLINDA OF THE SEVEN LABORS COMES FOR YOU ALL! EXCEPT THE HUMANS! THE HUMANS PET GOBLINDA, THEY CAN LIVE!"

Truly a terrifyingly adorable declaration of war if ever there was one.

Goblins were a curious handful of creatures. While they often resided within the depths of forests and caves, steering mostly clear of humanity, they did this because on some instinctive level, they were very much aware of their weakness and hierarchy on the proverbial totem pole that was Leraana. In a land of hunters, a lone goblin— even a small group of them— were often prey to creatures or humans... and so they often kept out of sight, stuck to their forests and caves, and went unnoticed on the main roads. Normally. There were exceptions to the rule, of course; lone goblins who broke away from the mold and made names for themselves across Leraana, as well as entire hordes of the creatures that weren't so easily denied taking to the civilized lands. This was a story in which both cases collided. A certain cursed elf just so happened to be caught in the middle of it. Midday, early Summer. The overbearing sun had thankfully been blotted out by rainclouds over Yermomstead, one of many small villages that dotted the base of the Thunderblacks. It was a quaint place; located to the south of the mountains, it contended with typically hot afternoons and cold evenings— a result of being located so close to the mountainside. For a blessing, miles south, east and west of the village were fairly clear, the Serha plains every bit as vast as they were flat. Raiders were often seen quite a ways off, and while the villages defenses weren't particularly impressive, the able-bodied hunters of Yermomstead often doubled as defenders at the gates when needed— their prowess with the bow and arrow allowing them to mark targets from afar before they could get within any dangerous range of the village. It was a peaceful town, one which enjoyed relative security and stability for several generations. Until today, at least. Who could say from whence they came, truly? The plains were quiet, tranquil... until they weren't. The hunters on guard, a pair of Adelan men— one a few years past his prime, the other in his early 20s— could feel it before they could see it. The rumbling. The vibrating earth beneath their feet, as if the ground itself were being trampled by a newborn, furious river's current. Raiders, they may have thought originally— yet with such vibration, surely the horses would've been seen over the horizon by now, yes? Yet there was nothing-- not a hoof in sight.

The rumblings, however, continued to grow in force and urgency. An earthquake, perhaps? Yet the ground showed no signs of faulting, nor did the structures within the village show any signs of failing. What was it, then?

"...Better call the chief. Go on, Serk-- I'll keep watch." Spoke up the older of the two men-- His blend of gray and black hair shifting in the ominous winds that picked up in the vicinity. His arms had instinctively drawn forth the bow and arrow with which he'd taken down several beasts in his time. 'Serk', the younger of the two, a red-headed man of considerable physique, did not contest his words-- It would've been folly to do so, in his eyes. The older man was his mentor, after all; He'd taken him on several hunts in the past, and of the man lessons the older man had forced into his head, disobeying an order in a time of uncertainty was one that stayed at the forefront. "Call if anything happens, then? I'll-- I'll be back as quick as I can." Came the redhead's rather uncertain words, though his body didn't move with the same hesitation-- indeed, before he'd even finished the sentence, he'd stepped down from his watchpost behind the village gate and begun making his way north, towards the residential's. His mentor was right-- the chief needed to know that something was amiss. With any luck, it was nothing and the tremors would stop soon.

Alas, luck was a two-sided coin.

"UNVEIL! ATTACK! TAKE THE SOUTH GATE AND CIRCLE TO THE EAST!"

A veteran rarely loses his edge. Under threat of beasts and raiders alike, it was natural to ensure that one's nerves were as steeled as a nocked and drawn shortbow. Yet as a therefore unseen stone javelin of relatively crude make quite literally materialized out of thin air, mid-flight as it spiraled directly for the hunter's head, his instincts won out; He ducked, thankfully in the nick of time as it just barely grazed his graying hair before landing harmlessly past the gates. As he cowered, the trembling silence gave way to a massive roar-- not a singular creature, but the symphony of tens of hundreds-- A rancorous, rallying battle cry. His eyes snapped open, and in spite of the unknown danger, he once more lifted himself up to peer above the gate from the watchpost... To find a sight most horrifying. For what now rushed forth at the gates was no mere raider party, nor flock of beasts... but a goblin horde. A MASSIVE goblin horde-- Lead from the front, it seemed, by a particularly unique 'chief'.

His armor was crimson and spike-covered; Likely painted red with the blood of his enemies-- And he wore the skull of a bear, fashioned into something akin to a warrior's helmet. Yet what caught the man's attention was neither his armor, nor the large warhammer he wielded in his right hand. No... it was the fact that in his left, he very clearly wielded magic. Magic that, as he made a singular gesture with his fingers-- like pointing a projectile weapon at the main gate-- pulsed forward with a horrifyingly surreal force. Green flames, as green as his skin, poured out from his hand and slammed against the wooden gate like a flood of water, shocking the older hunter and throwing him off balance besides. Before he could catch his footing, the unthinkable happened; The flames had burrowed a massive hole straight through the village gates, the sturdy wood giving way to unnatural, profane forces. It all happened in an instant-- all as if premeditated. Before the words "Goblin Horde Attack!" Could completely make it out of the hunter's throat, the little green raiders were inside-- and he was burned to a crisp by flames of green from their leader.

The rest of the village fell in short succession. A cascade of villager's screams and warcries echoed through Yermomstead within minutes of the horde's arrival, as they spread and terrorized the men, women and children alike in their absolute conquest. Those who could fight, did; Hunters took to their bows and spears, and though they valiantly defended their homes in the ensuing chaos, there was only so much they could do against the encroaching horde. Before long, the small town had gone up in flames; A pyre which could be seen far into the distance, even in the midday sky.

A pyre which a certain young Goblin heroine just so happened to be close enough to spot, as 'luck' would have it.

"...Teen years. Before that, probably not. You gotta consider how long it takes a wild dog to mature when—"

"Hey, sunshine, are you still with us or what?"

"Huh?"

Nearly dropping the ink quill in his right hand, Kinara looked up from the scrawled letter he'd been attempting to read over. It had gotten so dark now between the dense forest and the oddly moonless night that it took most of his concentration just to maintain his place on the page—that wasn't even taking into account the whole bumpy, barely existent road bit. Instinctively, he quickly folded up and put away his letter, as if it were under threat of being taken away; An odd enough reaction to being jolted to attention, as literally no one cared enough about the thing to do so, to his knowledge.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, sunshine. You plan on staying with us this time?"

The bunny-eared boy gave a quick look about. As far as he knew, he was still where he thought he should've been; In the back of the caravan's trailing carriage, seated closest to the exit, on the right. He was, of course, not alone; seated across from him, to his slight discomfort, was something like a giant of a woman. She had to stand at least 6 and a half feet tall, an educated guess on Kinara's part between having had her tower over him earlier in the day, and meekly looking up at her even now, as they were both seated. His own five foot and some odd inch frame seemed to shrink even more so in the shadow cast over her by a lantern just outside the carriage. And she wasn't just tall; she was coated, almost literally, in an admirable layer of muscle from neck to toe, the occasional scar here or there telling the tale that it wasn't just for show. Piercing emerald eyes bore into the smaller boy from beneath a short, wild mop of crimson red hair— not with intended intimidation, sure, but that didn't mean it wasn't there.

"O-Oh, sorry, I was just—"

"Ass-deep in that letter, again, for the... what—3rd time in a row, now?"

Kinara, flustered enough to bring a tinge of red to his cheeks, began to attempt explaining himself (again) but was spared by a soft hand reaching over from his side and patting him on the shoulder. "C'mon, cut him some slack. He's probably writing home to a sweetheart or something." Kinara's eyes averted from the larger-than-life lass to a much more realistic figure; A young lady, probably somewhere around his own age, with long, auburn hair and deep emerald eyes. She had a neutral, olive skin tone that gave off the impression that she took decent care of herself, yet sported a small tape bandage just along the cut of the left side of her face. What drew Liv's attention more than anything else, however, were the pair of goggles that sat atop her head—a style unlike any she'd ever seen before—and the small, bizarre-looking object—  like a rhombus, covered with strange symbols—  sitting in her lap. It looked like... some kind of relic? A key, maybe? Or the removed pommel of a blade. But surely it wasn't... right...?

"I think it's smart to keep up with your loved ones while you're away from home, anyway—If they need you, or vice versa, and all that."

"He's probably been gone, what, a few moons from home? If he's still that strung on his some girl's tits that he can't put her out of mind for more than a night, he shouldn't have left." Came the larger woman's extremely tactless reply, earning a deep flush and spot of panic from Kinara, and a much less impressive frown from the brown-haired girl. "Wha—No that's—How can you say something like that out loud!?" Exasperated, Kinara practically shouted at the woman across from him, forgetting himself in the process. This, surprisingly, didn't earn a scowl, nor a disapproving look in the least from his verbal aggressor... But a deep-bellied laugh, hard enough to rock the woman in her seat—slightly unnerving, as the carriage uneasily shifted under her merriment. The auburn-haired girl rolled her eyes. "Classy. Really."

"You'll have to cut her some slack as well, I'm sure. Usually, people don't tease others about their sex lives unless their own is fairly barren."

The laughter stopped cold. A chill ran down Kinara's spine as the rather jovial look in the larger woman's eyes turned nearly feral—like a wild animal, twice scorned. Her gaze, along with Kinara's and the brown-haired girl's, turned to the corner next to the giantess. There sat a young man, with dusky brown skin and black, locked hair. He likely stood somewhere between the giantess of a woman and Kinara himself in height, and his coal black eyes seemed so narrow as to avoid reflecting even the slightest bit of light under the canopy of the carriage.

What was most unique about this lad in particular, however, wasn't him at all; It was actually the serpent, coiling slowly around his slender, sculpted body which demanded the most attention. Near pure white, it was—  with cream-colored patches of scales here and there, and what seemed to be an onyx jewel, darker than the snake's amber slit eyes resting atop its forehead. As it comfortably moved from one side of his shoulder to the next, the snake eyed each one of the carriage's passengers, before nesting itself somewhere along the man's arm. This display, even if only slightly, unnerved Kinara; It did not, however, bother the likely moments-away-from-murder redhead across from him.

"...You wanna say that to my face, guy?"

"I'd have to get you down on your knees first, I imagine."

The woman hands slowly curled into fists as she moved to stand, eyes narrowing even further.

"Try it."

"Oooookay! So I don't think we properly introduced ourselves yet!" Kinara suddenly interjected, a last-ditch attempt to defuse a bomb on a very short wick. All eyes moved back to him; the redhead, albeit somewhat annoyed, gave one last glare towards the darker-skinned man, before settling back down in her seat. "I mean, we're all going to be a team on this venture, right? We should at least know a little about each other's stories, right? Or... or  just names?" He near-pleaded, defensively waving his hands as he did so. There was an odd moment of silence which seemed to stretch on into infinity, as all three (well, four) other individuals in the carriage gave him a once-over, as if surprised by this sudden outburst, before the auburn-haired girl, with a bit of a smile, spoke up again.

"Well I think it's a good idea, anyway. You never know; Getting at least a little personal might help if we got separated or something, and needed to verify identities." Crossing her legs, the young lady finished her words with a nod, rather content with her own reasoning. The young man in the corner nodded in agreement as well, his serpentine friend moving to coil about his neck now—loosely, mind you. "Good point. It might also help us out as far as working together in combat. Who's strongest in what spot, as it were." He chimed in, hand-waving his own explanation in. This left the crimson-haired woman alone, as far as agreements went, and while she did originally look about the group, a bit surprised by how quickly everyone got on the same page, her shoulders—and whatever leftover hostility they held—eventually gave way to reason.

"What, so he's the 'leader' now? Whatever. I guess it wouldn't hurt to get a couple juicy secrets outta you lot." She eventually replied, earning a collective sigh or eyeroll out of the group. Kinara in particular was just happy that no one's head was rolling—eyes were fine. Sitting back down, he cleared his throat a bit, took a deep breath, and nodded to himself. "Right! So, um. I guess... I should start?" He eventually spoke up again, as the collective carriage once again rolled their eyes and sighed, though now on a much lighter tone.

"Right, sorry, dumb question. So! My name is Kinara—  I'm from Summervale... kinda. It's a long story."

Surprisingly, Kiri sat on his words for a brief period of time— seemingly considering them quite genuinely. Whether she felt slighted, disappointed, or even disturbed— it was hard to say. But the pause she gave in response to his words was meaningful— or at least, seemed to be to be from the outside looking in. "I have my answer," She eventually responded, staring out into the opposing river's edge— perhaps beyond it.

Skittering footpads echoed quite gently through Kiri's attuned ears. A tiny, insignificant lizard passed behind the two of them, as they continued to take in the cooling river's current, and the warmth of the sun above. Eventually, she lowered her hands back into the current— cupping another drink of water.

"Whatever meaning there is to be found in life or death must be found by you, and you alone. If that is to lay down and die like a dog, then by all means— walk back into the river."

Perhaps the words came off as aggressive— they weren't inherently meant to. Much as Snarg had no patience to play the 'philosopher' as he so put it, she could not validate— nor invalidate— the man's will to live... or lack there of. Instead, having finished the drink of water, she closed her eyes once more, and fell into a state of pseudo-meditation.

'Pseudo', it seemed, because despite this, she was very much aware of her surrounds... including the skittering footpads once more. 

They had guests.

The tranquil flow of the river against Kiri's bare legs, the sound of the current as it flowed free and transient toward the ocean's edge-- Despite the calm that she displayed in presence, the young woman couldn't help but acknowledge the foreignness of it all... if only to herself. Time passed just as slowly within the cage that was her true 'home' as it did outside of it. There was no breeze, there. No earthen dirt to feel beneath her feet, no grass to run betwixt her toes, no bubbling river brooks to occupy her ears... No sun to illuminate her sight. There wasn't even sound-- not truly. For years, she could be simply 'exist'; Her very senses cut off from the outside world. Only her thoughts remained-- perhaps a result of the hastily-cast soulbinding, and perhaps a curse meant to drive her to madness with time.

A curse which nearly took hold... very many times. For what was a life without sight? Without touch? Without smell, taste, or sound? What was an eternity, with neither a body to grow restless within, or proof that you yet lived? That you ever lived? Yet her willpower persisted-- originally out of a soul-borne need for vengeance, which eventually faded to mere mindless hatred, through the depths of despair, and even periods of despondent nothingness. It was... humbling, in a sense; the realization through time of how very little truly mattered, when cursed with eternity itself.

"You sit and stand like a warrior, now. But you carry yourself like a dog." Her eyes paid him no mind. Neither the unwarranted odor of booze that yet tagged her nose, nor the closeness of his body to her own deterred her relative peace of mind as she continued to meditate on the flow of the river. "Indeed... you have grown from dog to man, yet much within you is still dog. Once, all men lived like beasts. Yet it seems in this age, man has become more beast than the beasts themselves." It was a pointed statement, an insult, and an inquiry. And in her mind, it was a fair assessment of the madness of this era. Who could blame her? Kiri was a stranger to the... 'customs'... of this time, and this place. She would admit that readily if asked, and learn from mistakes if pressed-- but she would not apologize for what was blatant to her.

"You have yet to overcome yourself. You've yet to even try. Is that normal, in this era?"

What in that Shah's name, indeed.

Derry wasn't one to be easily startled or caught off-guard; His father's 'family business' being a pretty big part of why. But as he watched from a still far-off distance as the labor livestock reacted to the strange woman's presence, he reminded himself that reticence wasn't always a boon— sometimes it was a problem.

Take his current situation, for instance. He'd just up and agreed to chase after this... thing, without really questioning how much danger he'd be putting himself in if he did so— all because he wasn't particularly phased or afraid of her. And for money, obviously. But when he stopped to think it over, wasn't that inadvertently reckless?

"I mean... they did already pay me. Do I really HAVE to do this?" He muttered to himself, still watching the animals panic from afar. Just earlier, a hippo and a crocodile had gotten uncomfortably close to his favorite shoes— likely also because of this woman. Assuming it was a woman. He only intended to transcribe some old notes, and deep dive a few documents to shed a little light on the mysterious 'star-bodied woman'... And that part of his job was over.

"...Technically, that's all I got paid for..." He also noted, nodding to himself again in assurance. Sure, he SAID he would go find her... but hey, he didn't have to do that TODAY, necessarily. If she was clumsy enough to get caught by those two fools, she'd leave enough of a trail to follow... eventually. For now, he figured that with nothing better to do, he'd continue following her at as far a distance as he could— more so listening for the sounds of the aberrant chaos her presence caused than the actual sight of her.

Perhaps Veride had grown a second head. 

Perhaps her flourishing hair, so vibrant and full of blossoms and blooms, had been set ablaze in a fury of rage and red. 

Perhaps she'd become a mortal! 

Any and all of these were just as like to be true, when both Neverlie and Erstwhile alike stopped their bickering, as if entranced or shocked by something beyond their kin, and turned to look at Veride with blank, if not speechless expressions. And stare they did, for a time, with naught but the wind and a stray field mouse to break the silence.

...And then both laughed. Vigorously. Heartily. Yet there was always a clear difference between the Fairy King and his closest follower— for where Erstwhile laughed 'with' Veride, Neverlie very pointedly laughed 'at' Veride.

"'Surely it couldn't be any more dangerous than spring.' Never I, Neverlie, shall hear so hilarious a thing! Caw, caw, pipipi!" Impressive, truly— The Fairy of Crows rarely lose her composure, yet Veride had managed it from each possible angle— mirthful laughter and fathomless frustration alike. Erstwhile, in turn, was just as amused— though there was a far clearer innocence in his joy, as he laughed for a different reason.

"The four courts are alike in that regard— Their beauty and their malignity." He explained, both to Neverlie and Veride. "Indeed, we of the Unseelie can be quite a bit... 'too playful' at times. But... having said that, not all of my subjects are quite like me. For instance... many of my subjects only tell lies," He continued, before looking specifically to Neverlie, "While others like to tease and fuss." This, of course, earned him an indignant pout— which he promptly ignored.

"The spider in my garden... might be a little bit of a problem. She very much does enjoy the taste of Spring fae. The more vibrant, the better."

A pause. Another sip.

This moment was far more important to Kiri than simply rehydrating after the night of vicarious self-indulgence she'd suffered. As she sat at the bank of the river, legs crossed on the ground, sword settled on the ground at her side, she allowed herself a few moments to truly acknowledge where she was— or perhaps more impactfully, WHAT she was.

Free.

How long had it been, truly? She could only recall having been allowed out of that abhorrent darkness— that cage of enchanted metal which her very soul was bound to— once. The circumstances... what were they? If her memory served her truly, the armor which bound her had taken some sort of severe damage. A battle... with a wolf? No... a man. It was a wolf-like man, yes; She could remember brandishing her blade against him in self-defense only moments after tasting sunlight for the first time. A fearsome opponent... one she was much too disoriented at the time to kill.

She'd have to rectify that, one day.

Alas, just as then, Kiri knew she could only enjoy this 'freedom' for a short time. The magic which bound her soul to that... 'thing', was still in tact. Even as she tasted fresh water for the first time in an uncountable number of years, and felt the warmth of the sun on her skin in kind, she could still feel the 'pull'. The compulsion of her very soul to return to the cage in which it was destined to remain.

The Vallyae family's magics were fearsome, indeed. A shame, then, that she was all that remained of it.

As she opened her eyes, and wearily watched the fool of a warrior seemingly come to— or closer to— his senses, she could merely wonder for how long she would be allowed to walk the earth this time. A day? A season? A calendar? It mattered little, in the grand scheme of things. Eventually, the armor would recover— it always did— and she would be locked away once more.

"You are awake, then?"

As for the time she had...

"You are a warrior, are you not?"

Kiri frowned. As they wandered out into the open sun from the 'protection' of the old, crumbled walls, the sun assaulted her in full force; The squinting glare that she was forced to make-- both from her radiating headache as well as her overall disdain for how bright the sun's light was after... gods, had it been years? Decades, since she'd last seen it? She was so used to heightening her senses through magic to visualize the world outside of her animated shell of a prison-- she had yet to fully adapt to actually 'seeing' once more.

The poisoning didn't help.

With a slight shift of her shoulder, she adjusted Snarg's weight a bit-- making it a bit easier on her hand as she continued carrying him along. "A warrior dies on their feet, on the battlefield; A dog dies destitute, in the street." Her tone was almost lecturing-- almost. More than anything, she sounded grumpy... which made sense, given the circumstances. "I know not what rhyme or reason you had for indulging that... thing, but I'm neither a judge, nor jury-- I'm a warrior."


The trek wasn't particularly long, but it was grating all the same. The sand-crested wind hit her bare skin-- the course pebbles scratching at her arms and midriff, irritating her further. Yet onward she walked, Snarg in hand-- and before long, the two of them had reached said river-- which reached a solid half-mile across, and stretched from one distant gaze to the next. Having reached their destination, Kiri gazed about, verifying that there were no threats in the immediate vicinity.

And then she unintentionally tried to kill him.

"Drink," Was the only warning she gave. With the same show of nonchalant force that she'd carried the man thus far, Kiri lifted him somewhat slightly off of her shoulder... and then tossed him into the lake.

Not far into the lake, to be fair. Just far enough that he wouldn't die from slamming into the riverbed unceremoniously. After which, Kiri herself stepped a few steps into the river herself, before kneeling gracefully and taking a drink from her cupped hands.

Kolara ignored his question. Of course she ignored his question; She was annoyed, after all. Yes, in as short a timespan as two sentences, she'd gone from fairly docile, perhaps even gentle, to her typically harsh, chest-puffed persona. Why?

"'...Fine'?"

For a petty reason, obviously; Even if he hadn't meant to, Arlen had slighted her. She was phoenix-born-- The flames of rebirth given shape. She'd mended wounds capable of ending careers, cured ailments deemed too aggressive for mortal hands to touch-- she could even bring back the dead, if she wanted to. But he was just 'fine'? "You... Who do you think you're talking to?" She bit back, putting his question aside with one of her own.

She must've passed out in the midst of healing him before; That wouldn't happen again. A familiar glow began to burn in Kolara's eyes as her gaze fixated on his weakened wing. And as she did, the familiar golden flames began to burn across the wing. "S-sit... sit still... and... I'll..." Yet once more, almost as quickly as the flames began to spread across the wing did they snuff out. More concerning, perhaps was that her eyes, which were alight with magic, quickly dulled, before rolling back and closing. Moment's later, she fell limp in his arms again-- the warmth of her body, oddly, fading... though her breathing, albeit weakly, maintained.