Wicked Moon, Wicked Night (M) (Countess!)

[Lion]

"Damn..." Hysaeda muttered as he stared into his reflection in the deathly still pool of water.  The river crossed from the edges of the Draconi Forest and deep into the Terrin Mountains, but here it scattered a bit and left a myriad of tributaries that allowed for a lush valley to grow.  To bad such nourishing water couldn't make the Umraeon's hair color grow into a different color.  The nightmarishly bare truth (at least to most other native Le'rannian Dark Elves) was that no self respecting Umbraeon should bare a trace of white hair.  No, they were more likely to have red, black, or even teal hair than white.  White was abhorrent and associated only with the damnable Drow and their mischievous ways.

Even as he scratched at his scalp and stared hopelessly at the water, Hysaeda knew there was nothing to be done about his hair color.  He could pray to Umbra and the dead god's spirit would most likely only whisper in his dreams the answers he sought not.  He would have to live with this burden for however long he was destined to live; though that wasn't to say it wasn't just the primary cause of his grief as a youngster.  The bruises of bullies in his younger days hurt only as far as his soul could take it.  But that was in the past and there was more to be done before the day was out.

But as he gazed up over the line of trees that led deep into the hopelessly dark brush of the Draconi he saw the plethora of colors that heralded the sunset.  And in the mix he sighed hopelessly.  "And always there's never enough time in a day.  Too bad I haven't set up camp yet," he said to himself.  Yet his supplies were limited, even to make a camp.

It was true that the Umbraeons were tribal in their ways and Hysaeda was no exception.  He carried with him only what was necessary and no more: basic clothing and tool for which he could utilize to scavenge from the land.  Across this torso was his sleeveless bone and leather armor as was the natural garb for hunters and his travel bag.  Hide pants protected his legs from the rising cold, stopping at a fold at his calves and letting his boot-like sandals reside from there.  A sheathed scimitar was slung horizontally across his back along with his bow and quiver.  Such weapons may have been archaic but they saved his hide countless times and he wasn't about to trade it for anything.

Quickly he detached his bow and held it firmly in his grasp as he crossed the river along some stepping stones and upon a desolate mountain pass.  He would have to find a suitable place to set up camp and doing so would be the most difficult aspect of the task, for there was no telling just what kind was dangers one was going to find when they journeyed by night.

[Anonymous]

Along that desolate path, far enough away from anyone that may be curious, a gate opened. The electric, silent energy seemed to cut a rectangle through the air, granting a view of some dark marble room, bare of any and all decoration.  A black boot touched down, as foreign to the soil as the scenery through the portal was to anyone here. The woman finished stepping though, her other leather boot hitting the ground just as the doorway closed, leaving her very much alone. Not as though that bothered her. "At least, this time, it's night," the female drow murmured to herself.

If she was concerned at all for her safety, anyone watching wouldn't have guessed. She had no real armor, though the top she wore was of stiff leather laced up the front. It might serve to deter some mundane attacks and bruises. But even so, it only covered her midriff and chest. Dark ebony shoulders and a graceful neck led up to a slender face and blood red eyes. Her hair, silver rather than the usual white, shone like the metal it represented. She'd pulled it up this time, leaving delicate strands to fall and frame her face. Of course, the practical reason she'd pulled it up was because, as she'd found from traveling before, it made her hair easier to manage. Bresthra did have a lot of it.

The drow took a moment to take stock of her supplies, as she usually did. Not that she could just... go back... if she'd forgotten something. The gate only opened to here. To get back home, she'd need to find someone capable of making one for her. Sometimes that was rather easy... others... Well, it gave her a chance to explore. With the loose goal of finding someone like that, Bresthra's hands slid over the hilts of the blades on her hips. The first had a black iron grip, which led down to the smooth black blade. A gift from her teacher. The second had a white bone handle, and while looking plain, would give her the advantage over the undead. If her necromancy and clerical skills should happen to fail her. Finding both blades were in their place and her traveling bag, a leather one slung off her shoulder that could carry more than it looked to hold, in place, she finally took note of her surroundings.

The sun was setting now and soon the deep oranges and reds of the sky would fade to purples and blues before the scenery was subjected to darkness. Hopefully not a true black out as when there was no light from the moon. A quick glance directly up let Bresthra know that, at least for the moment, there was no threat of precipitation. Had there been the smell of rain, or the collection of clouds, she'd been more motivated to make camp. As it was, the sky appeared to be as clear as one could wish for. The weather was decent, the light wasn't too bright... Hells, Bresthra was beginning to suspect she'd arrived somewhere –nice- for once. All too often, she'd stepped from the gate into the suppressive heat of a blazing afternoon sun, or walked out just for gray-black clouds to open up and grace her with rain. Rather than supposing something would probably ruin her luck at arriving at such a time, Bresthra took the scenery for what it was, smiled, and proceeded on her way.

This happened all the time. She'd walk through a gate into some unknown land, wander around, make friends, meet new people, take notes, and then return to either home or her temple. Whichever seemed to call to her the most. Recently, it had been home. Or more importantly, her brother. That thought seemed to release a million others, all of which Bresthra idly noted before discarding. She'd not been away long enough for the cluster of thoughts to take root. But they would, eventually, and then she'd deal with them. For now, she simply smiled a little and started down the path. Every road led somewhere, in her experience. Where didn't matter. Only that she was free to walk it.

[Lion]

A mist was building gradually across the mountains and already his feet had sunk into the clouded smoke.  As ghostly as it drifted, so did Hysaeda as he strolled in a crouched position behind several large trees  It might have appeared as if he was stalking someone or something but the actuality of such a poise was merely to exercise caution over all.  What could kill prey might also seek to slay him; this was a kill or be killed world and in the grand scheme of all, survival was the highest priority of every creature.  It was the reason why there was hunting, grazing, migration, domination, breathing, eating, and even mating.
 
Hysaeda grasped his bow intently and readied an arrow in it should the need to launch it arise.  A cold gust swept along his bare arms and incited a shiver.  But he clenched his abdomen and pressed onward despite the negative energies that pierced his senses.  Visage determinedly smoothed over, that feeling alone was enough to remind him exactly why he rarely ever ventured on evening excursions.
 
The bad feelings he had before were now gripping at the pit of his stomach.  Something's not right here, he thought with a grimace.  Already he was beginning to put tension on the bow string, but it was slight, however.  The basic instinct of his training in he wilderness instructed him to place as much distance between himself and the energy for no doubt that following the trail of the negation would lead him to find the source that made him feel so sick.  The hairs standing up on the nape of his neck told him just as much.  But he wasn't afraid, he convinced himself; he was at one with nature, the power around him was enough for whatever he may come across.  Though even that wasn't sufficient in preparing him for what happened next.
 
Approximately 300 or so feet away, he witnessed with eyes wide a rectangular gate appear right out of thin air.  And through the portal appeared a figure as equally dark as he.  "What the--" he whispered breathlessly and when he felt like his eyeballs couldn't get any wider, he snapped out of his spell and attempted to watch stoically as the figure moved from the faint light of the gate.
 
From what he could tell, it had a feminine shape with wide hips and a protruding bust.  Definitely not male, he thought, screwing his face in curiosity.  The clothing was outlandish and nothing like he'd ever seen before.  Her garb was both form-fitting and somewhat loose and was darker still than her flesh.  There was a glint of red as her eyes flashed and then he peered at her hair.  It shone silvery in the oncoming moonlight.
 
His heart felt like it stopped abruptly when the realization that she was not Umbraeon seeped into the cracks in the foundation of his mind.  And a single word leaked from his lips, "Drow..."
 
Without reserve, his blood boiled as a quick and utter distaste for the female so far away from him.  And as if he was hunting for avirex feathers, he drew the arrow back in the bow and aimed near her head.  His aim was impeccable, he would not miss.  A few breaths of concentration later and he released the arrow.  It sung in the air and whistled right passed her head.  Smiling faintly, he was satisfied at this for it was a mere warning shot.
 
"Who goes there?" he called out and stood to full length with another arrow readied in the bow.

[Anonymous]

Bresthra was fairly amazed that the darker it got, a mist began to form. She was rather enchanted. There was something exceptionally stunning about the way the silvery fog hung over the ground, swirling around her legs as she walked through it. Bresthra even stopped a moment to simply survey her surroundings and watch the silent transformation. This is why she traveled. While she was very much the hedonistic drow born in the abyss, there was a small part of her that was just stunned by the beauty of the natural world. Like her first time in the forest, it wasn't about getting to a city, it was about what was around her. That awed feeling, the experience of the 'first time' was a pleasure she could not get enough of. It was one of the few things she loved about who her Mother was. How else would she realm hop?

The drow was so enthralled by her surroundings that no part of her was looking for anyone. And she never did. Even though she'd been ambushed several times, Bresthra never bothered with precautionary actions. That required more forethought than she wanted to deal with. Would it get her killed one day? Maybe. But that was the future, and she wasn't about to change so much as to start thinking about it.

Before she was about to continue on, something whistled past her head. She twisted a little to watch the tail end of the arrow disappear into the misty scenery behind her. Either the shooter had missed on purpose, or she was about to be shot. The answer came readily enough as someone stood and called out, "Who goes there?" As a drow, the low light was actually better for her to see. It looked like someone had painted a wild elf black. For the longest moment, she just stared. Her eyes had to be playing tricks on her. Drow did not dress like that. But there he was, natural armor, black skin, reddish eyes, and white hair. She'd have thought he was a servant of Lolth if his attire were not so other-worldly. Maybe Vhearaun. If that were the case, than all was well. Her Mother and the Masked Lord were on cordial terms. Especially since Assirra's lover happened to be a rather powerful follower.

She held her hands out to the sides, away from her daggers. Slowly. No reason to be shot over a misunderstanding. "Name's Bresthra Xorlarrin." Usually she didn't drop her last name, but if he was a Vhearuanite, then it'd immediately smooth things over. Better that happen before she was shot. Bresthra had been before and it was not a memory she recalled with pleasure. Luckily the wound had healed without a scar. "Who might you be?" No harm in trying to figure out who he was. If he kept talking, then her chances of feeling an arrow enter her body would drop. Right?

No part of her actually wanted to fight him. But if it came down to that, she knew she'd have to establish a vampiric connection rather quickly. From his previous shot, he'd not miss. Bresthra could survive a shot in her head if she could draw life from him quick enough. At least, she thought she could. As a precaution, Bresthra had the spell swirling around in her mind. All it would take was a sigh. A breath. A thought. She really didn't want to, but neither did she particularly want to die. And if it came down to him or her, Bresthra preferred he die. Hopefully, all this was him just being jumpy around strangers.

[Lion]

Just like another hunting expedition, Hysaeda stretched the bow as tightly as the string could bear without a snap.  The tension was at its max and with his infallible eye it would take but less than half a second to the take the Drow right between the eyes.  Like the female before him, an Umbraeon's eyesight was created and accustomed to the thick shadows of mountain caves, for that was where their origins lied, and their skin was designed to camouflage into the darkness.

But while those were the scientific reasons for such biological attributes, the Umbraeons themselves, in all their spiritual fanaticism, would declare that their physicality was derived only from their god and creator Umbra, who so scrutinously designed them in his image with all the intent of his love.  Umbraeons didn't appear as if of the softer Elven races but were configured to be hardy and determined.  Then again...this definitely didn't help their public image as barbaric savages at all.

Sure they were wild and tribal in their ways but that wasn't just say they weren't cultured.  Perspective was key in understanding such an isolated race, but even their innate distrust for the kingdoms would hardly allow them to dare let any outsider attempt to understand their customs.  And an exercise of caution was a common one.  Hysaeda gazed sternly at her, keeping his mind steady and without thought, for there was no need for thought if it meant on killing a Drow with a single shot.  He held his breath as she stared back, certain she'd never seen one of his kind before.  Sure they might have looked alike and perhaps outsiders would consider them one in the same and that there was but a cultural difference between them.  And perhaps they would be partially right, but the animosity would never fade.

The drow called herself Bresthra Xorlarrin, whatever that meant.  It definitely wasn't Sevic that was for damn sure.  "I am the night watchman here.  Hysaeda is what you may call me," he spoke with an unmoving steadiness.  "What are you doing here?  For what reason did you step on these lands?"  He admitted silently that he didn't want to have to release the arrow but he certainly would have no qualms about doing so if she gave him good enough reason for it.  And in doing so, he loosened the tension on his bow only slightly and averted his aim to her legs instead.  But it was still easy to see he was uneasy about all this.  It wasn't like everyday that he came across a drow.

[whoops, a little on the short side.  But I did what I could with my current lack of inspiration.]

[Anonymous]

Her name didn't click with him. So he wasn't a Vhearuanite... or he was a poorly informed one. At least he wasn't an outright enemy of her family either. Giving up her name had been a risk, but it appeared, at least, that it would have nothing to do with his judgment of her. Which almost made Bresthra sigh with relief. She didn't want to have to live up to that name nor did she ever fall into what was expected of her. Granted, that meant he had absolutely no idea what to expect from her. And while that gave her a clean slate to work with, it also meant he had absolutely no reason to not shoot and kill her. Wonderful.

It was another plus that he responded to her inquiry. Night watchmen? She had to keep telling herself he was a drow, otherwise she would've pegged him as a wild elf. The bow, his dress, the watchman bit... it was like she'd stumbled into elven territory. Even though he looked like a drow, he acted like a surface elf. Granted Bresthra wasn't from the Underdark, but the 'surface elf' grouping was all she could think of. Considering her track record with surface elves, this was going a lot better than the last couple times. Which meant he was at least willing to listen. So how did she convince him that even though she was a drow, she wasn't evil? Surely he couldn't judge based off of her skin color. After all, they were almost one in the same.

Bresthra let out a slow breath as he lowered the arrow. Her spell melted away. Neither of them wanted to fight. He seemed ready to do what was necessary, but most were. But there was a huge difference between someone who was committed to killing, and someone who didn't want to. She was glad he was in the latter group. Or seemed to b. Admittedly, he could just be toying with her. But his expression was too serious for that thought to take root. She was not surprised when he asked her what she was doing here. That was the most obvious question to ask someone that wasn't somewhere you wanted them.

Bresthra shrugged a little. "Exploring?" she offered, wondering if he'd believe that. It was the truth, but it was also probably the most generic answer someone could give in this situation. "I didn't mean to stumble into your territory... I'm just new here." Of course, Bresthra then just made the connection that this was the equivalent to her walking out into the blazing sun or the rain. She should've known the location her Mother had picked had something wrong with it. That was always the case. It seemed she'd just happened into some... dark elf territory. And because she didn't know what to think of him, Bresthra was at some disadvantage. Either he already knew what drow were, or he simply didn't recognize her as one of his own... Well, she mused, at least they could understand one another. She didn't even want to think of how this might've went if they had been unable to communicate.

[Lion]

Okay, so he lied.  He wasn't a night watchman.  There was no such thing because, on a serious note, who would really want to guard a secluded section of a forsaken forest anyway?  It wasn't like there was anything particularly special about the place and even if there was how was anyone to know?  Hysaeda was the closest thing to civilization in a two hundred mile radius, even he would have no real reason to be this far from home; but what could he say, he loved to travel.  And as much as he respected nature, there wasn't any incentive to want to live in surroundings that were so much like a damned labyrinth to anyone who wasn't a native and it wasn't like he wanted an off-chance encounter with a hostile outcast tribe.
 
It was one thing to encounter a Drow in the middle of a forest, but was long as there was yet no ill will toward each other they were safe from the other's intent.  But it was quite different to meet with another Umbraeon tribe.  They were always looking for ways to enter into the very profitable slave trade and just how humiliating getting captured by an enemy tribe would be a member of the Xelikuda.
 
He didn't want to admit it, but there was an unexpected problem arising now.  If he'd been his cousin, Hyn-Iharu, he would've released the arrow without as much as a second thought—Hell! He wouldn't even have loosened the bow!  Iharu was one of the rare Umbraeons who had an affinity with dragons and an unmatched skill with the spear and therefore left the Xelikuda camp for one of the Dragoon camps where he could practice his art close to the dragons.  Iharu was a trained warrior and would have no qualms about killing an unarmed Drow.  Hysaeda, on the other hand, was a mere hunter and accustomed to slaying only animals in order to survive; it just wasn't like him to want to kill another who had done nothing to him.  The fact that he'd been nigh defenseless in his younger years molded his personality to believe that only when one deserved punishment would they receive it in just amounts.  Despite the fact that she was a drow, could he really hold it against her without opposing his own beliefs?
 
"I see," he spoke and, upon his revelation that he was characteristically benevolent to the helpless—not that he at all thought her to be helpless—, he loosened the tension completely and held the bow stagnantly in his hands, his aim toward the ground.  "I suspected as much."  Holding his gaze low, he looked at her darkly as if he was both a starving animal or merely annoyed by her presence.  Putting the arrow back in his quiver and placing the bow back over his torso, Hysaeda readjusted the scimitar's sheath and smirked a little when he said, "I don't own this place.  In fact, I'd be cautious about what natives I'd find here if I were you; some of them are rather...hostile towards outsiders.  Tell me, just how did you 'stumble' here?"

[Anonymous]

Bresthra continued to watch him. She found herself insanely curious how a drow got to be how he was. So very... wild and tribal looking. Was there another drow deity here influencing things that she didn't know about? Granted, the deity didn't have to be drow pre say. Bresthra's goddess wasn't. Sharess was usually depicted as a female human with feline qualities. Conversely, Bresthra's mother was a drow... or had been before ascending... and she didn't claim drow exclusively. So that really left everything open as to what had led this male to be who and what he was. Great. Absolutely no basis of comparison to work from.

She smiled when he lowered the bow. Not one of the satisfactory smiles that some might have in this scene, but an easy going tilt of her lips. Bresthra was hardly a hostile or overtly dangerous drow. Thought it amused her to no end when he said he thought she was new. That usually worked in her favor. Sheer honesty, since some people happened to be natural born lie detectors. But Bresthra had no reason to lie. Unless, of course, he'd held some animosity for her family... in which case she would've merely sought passage and not bother him. She hated how the sins of the parents often transferred to the child. Even if that child had absolutely nothing to do with said parents. Bresthra saw her family because that's what they were; family. Beyond that, there was nothing connecting them. Except her and Fyresk... which left them in a rather awkward position since he was a cleric of the very Goddess Bresthra had run from.

She lurched from her thoughts ash she saw how he was looking at her. It caught her off guard because she couldn't recall the last time someone might've been annoyed to see her. Upset, angry, interested... but annoyed? Bresthra couldn't help but smile at that. He seemed to be mulling something over before the arrow was put away, and the bow settled. Now the smirk... why couldn't he have done that before? Made the wild elf look rather... appealing. When he spoke, she was only half way paying attention. Something about natives and being careful. Bresthra's flair of interest led her to survey the visible part of him with more interest this time than the curiosity that had led her to ponder his origins. He was a hunter, or fighter... either way, he was built for it. Much to her delight.

During the whole of her looking, there was a small part of her that nagged, 'He'd asked a question'. Of course, it took her a moment to recall just what had been said. Her blood red eyes slid up him and to his own eyes. "Stumble here?" Now she had to be a little careful. Bresthra never lied unless it was better she did so. And if he were a surface elf, saying she'd just strolled out of the abyss was probably not what he wanted to hear. So she want with something a little more benign. "I'd just visited my family. My Mother opens gates to different realms for me to... peruse." The best part? That –was- the truth.  Now, because he had said it was dangerous, she felt compelled to ask, "And you seem to know the area rather well. Care to escort me somewhere safe?"

[Lion]

Immediately, he noticed something was off by the amount of silence that ensued when his line of questioning had commenced.  And he found it even stranger still that somehow his flesh was starting to get a tingling sensation and the hairs on the back of his neck were becoming erect.  It was then that he gazed up and found Bresthra looking at him.  But it wasn't the kind of vigilance that a woman would give to her young in guardianship but the kind a starving man might award to a boar he was sizing up for a meal.
 
And with that, Hysaeda felt his eyes become the size of moons in sheer surprise.  Her eyes roved up and over his sinewy form and suddenly he felt that his blood began to boil and burn in his veins.  His heartbeat was becoming heavy and resonant in his ears, all the more audible as if he were in an empty cave and the sound was echoing off the stone walls; as if it were becoming the feral heartbeat of the forest itself.  These oscillations were stirring him.  It made him seem surreal...almost--primal.  Whether or not this hot-blooded feeling was the result of fear or anger, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out just yet.

He fixed his visage, averting his eyes back to their normal state as she snapped back to attention.  Even as she was answering him, his mind abounded with innumerable questions.  Things like, 'What exactly had she been doing with her gaze?' and more importantly, 'Why had she been staring at me like that?'  No one had ever looked at him like that before or at least he hadn't yet noticed if they did.  His years of growing up at had been too brutal and swift to care much for finding a woman.  He'd spent much of his time looking for ways to deter bullies in their methods of persecution and avidly learning the trade of Ankuman under his father's close scrutiny.  It was rare for an Ankuman to take a wife for their job as spiritual leader generally did not allow the time for one; they were in constant need, someone always sought their guidance or their medical attention.  But Heilrak did have a wife some time ago.  And then that just brought up the subject of Hysaeda's mother, whom he never knew.

In the span of years between his training and defense, he'd learn to live on his own one jaunt into the surrounding Draconi Forest.  Of course, it was as if he was lost in there in the time between sixteen and twenty-one but the reality of the situation was that he sought such a trade as hunter.  He wanted to be in an area where he could be secluded from others, to be surrounded in a place where nature was his only solace and, having learned to successfully fend for himself, he learned the trade of a hunter.  It was more of his way of escape from the troubles at camp and something to keep his mind busy when he was away from his training.

However, it seemed that learning the wild ways of the land was the catalyst for Bresthra's gaze, though this was unbeknownst to him.  He cleared his throat and affixed his eyes boldly into her own, hopefully to show that he had no fear.  But as he did so he noticed that her red ones were much darker and liquidy that his amber-red ones.  There was something cognitive within them, as if she was considering something rather pivotal.  Whatever the case, he focused on the conversation and answered, "Safety is an illusion.  And to hope to harness it is like trying to capture the wind; it will always elude your grasp."

He then strode toward her in hopes to retrieve the arrow he fired in a warning shot.  If it was found in the daytime by whomever this territory belonged to, he didn't want it to serve as a "come and get me" sign.  He reached the trunk and tugged hard at the embedded arrow.  With a few sufficient pulls, it was dislodged and subsequently placed back into the quiver.

He turned his head and said, "If shelter's what you want then you should follow me.  I don't want to be around when someone comes to this area."  Hysaeda backed away a little considering how close he was to her and awaited her response.

[Anonymous]

She smirked a little when he made his way over to her. Rather, past, to retrieve the arrow. The whole time, Bresthra allowed herself to watch him. Fighters had a grace about them, a swagger, a confidence to their walk that broadcasted who they were without ever saying it. But he walked like something less... elf like and more animal. Like a cat would walk, it's whole body in perfect harmony. With a grace and easy stealth that was simply natural. It made her heart beat a little quicker as he moved past her. Every ounce of will was required –not- to reach out and touch him.

Bresthra was very amused by his response. Something so cryptic and elusive it actually made her more interested in him. After all, when was the last time she'd met any wild elf, let alone a drow look alike that looked... well, like that. She was so used to those in finery, the drow wearing expensive clothes that were cut to fit and flatter. And they were nice. Sharess knew how eager Bresthra was for a dressed up drow. But this look, this out and out wild appearance this male had... well, it was definitely new. Bresthra –loved- new things. If there was one sure fire way to catch the woman's attention, it was to be different. Unique.

With him so close now, Bresthra allowed herself to study him once more. After getting a rather good view of him walking, she was now able to pick him apart a little more. Some ranger, she'd guess. The bow, the grace in which he moved... He had to be some flavor of that base class. Bresthra had traveled often enough, and had been taught by Veithean how to spot who was what just by looking. It had amazed her to no end what she had missed before becoming a student to the drow assassin and high priest of Sharess. The amount of physical signals someone's body gave off were near overwhelming if one knew what to look for. Granted, Veithean had been more her religious guide than a teacher of the assassin arts, but she'd picked up quite a bit from him.

She smirked a little when he took a step back. Was he uncomfortable around her? How terribly amusing that thought was. Maybe he was strictly a loner... That would explain the manners regarding their 'hellos'. An arrow whistling by was not exactly the nicest way to let someone know you were there. Granted, she was a drow. And that was an a-typical surface elf reaction to drow. Shoot first. Then ask. Only he'd bothered to miss first rather than trying to kick the answers out of her. Which led Bresthra to believe that, over all, he wasn't so bad. Of course, he could lead her away to some companions that are out and about, and then kick the answers out of her... But Bresthra found herself willing to risk it. If only because he was so very, very interesting.

Then, she bowed a little. It was the sort of movement someone with her ample cleavage was used to doing. A clear, brief moment to peer down the front of her shirt. It always amused her to no end to watch and see who would, and who wouldn't. This elf, drow or otherwise, seemed to be the type that would be too stubborn to do so. "You are kind," she said then before straightening. " Lead away then. You would know what is best." Bresthra smiled at him then, an almost playful quirking of her lips. Where he planned to lead them, she couldn't say. But she was too intrigued now to even consider what peril she might be in. There was bliss in the amount of ignorance she had for this new land. However, he didn't seem immediately repulsed by her mere presence, so maybe she could get some information out of him. She'd find out just how chatty he could be once they got somewhere... that wasn't right here. Bresthra was in rather high spirits though. So far, since coming to this new place, things were going rather well. Sure, he'd shot at her... but he'd missed. And he'd given his name... What more could she ask for, considering her usual bad luck regarding new places and the like. Which only made Bresthra idly wonder what could go bad now... something had to. It was the trend.

[Lion]

The spirits of the wood surrounding him did more than treat to the preference of being secluded in nature itself but moreover lent itself to the entire theory that Umbraeons were born from the remnants of nature.  They were a faithful people to their single creator and of him they believed that he created the seven star signs, which every Umbraeon was born under.  However, Hysaeda's was the most ambiguous and treacherous of all: the Serpent.  Said to wander the stars and attack the spirits of the other signs, those born under the sign of the Serpent were said to be a siphon to the life forces around them.  Of course this was only mild superstition but a contributing source to his childhood torment.  Nobody wanted an Umbraeon around who not only looked like a Drow but also was born under a most dreaded sign.

The stars hanging above them like midnight candles shone bright and were amongst the only light in the sky, the moon.  Casting down into the canopy of trees, Hysaeda eyed curiously as the line reflected against the drow's similarly shaded skin.  Amidst the few seconds of silence that passed between them, he too took the moment to survey her appearance now that he had a better view.  Her outward appearance was nigh flawless and he could so now how easy it would be to mistake him as one of her kind.  Her hair, though light, wasn't exactly white but an extremely light shade of silver that it was simple to compare the two.  And their eyes held the same type of ruby sort of appearance, though he could say his were more lave-like than her blood-colored ones.  Suffice to say, if it weren't for his facial tattoos he may as well have stopped calling himself Umbraeon and became a drow.

On another, much less serious note, her choice of dress concerned him a little.  Did every drow from the bowels of the world dress like she did?  Wasn't she cold?  To him, she looked as if she were headed to the nearest brothel, which wasn't anywhere near here.  Yet those questions did little to help the sheer awkwardness of the situation between a scantily clad drow and a native dressed Umbraeon.  It wasn't that he had a problem with it; it was merely a form of dress he was unaccustomed to and despite the fact that Umbraeons were an amazingly adaptable, they were just as equally stubborn.  And plus, winters in the Thunderblacks could be rather brutal if you didn't have the right clothing.

Her next action, from what he observed, was one he assumed to be idiosyncratic of her kind.  Hysaeda, out of pure curiosity, watched her lean forward in a sort of bow as the sight of her cleavage revealed itself.  His eyes went wide for a second and his brows rose as he snapped them back to her face.  Apparently he was indignantly discombobulated by this and he set his once hanging jaw tightly, muscles protruding and quirked his brows.  Still, he felt his eyes smolder in embarrassment.

She spoke and he was glad that she was no longer trying to flash him, instead leaving him to deal with her leerings.  He merely nodded in response and walked past her, careful not to bump shoulders with her.  Many questions arose in his mind as he strode, asserting his gait so that he could cover as much distance as possible in a short amount of time.  And as much as fear and paranoia could be useful, he didn't want his nerves to get on end about having someone trail behind him.  Sometimes being alone for months at a time really got to you when you had company once more.

He learned to trust his feelings then, for danger was imminent and omnipresent.  He was accustomed to fighting for his survival and it was thus that he reached behind him and clasped the hilt of his scimitar, sliding it gently from its sheath.  While his bow was used to ambush an opponent, his blade was a far better tool to slicing off a head.  The weapon was of an outdated design, even by the Umbraeon's esoteric standards.  It was unlike most scimitars of modern calculations and looked instead like a flexed lightning bolt; a shape that allotted both chopping power and, with its pointed tip, could pierce through armor effectively.

Holding the blade in his dominant right hand, he held his other one back in a motioning fashion to slow down.  "Keep up with me," he commanded.  He couldn't tell exactly what it was but he had a feeling someone or something, was following them.  Maybe that swiftly moving shadow darting from beneath the underbrush had something to do with it.

He persisted with his venture, occasionally drawing upon the natural energy of the trees surrounding him to detect which direction the shadow headed.  Then, still walking casually as if nothing was bothering him, he loosened his grip on the weapon as they neared a large oak planted firmly in the ground.  There was little to no conversation that he incited for the specific reason of concentrating on his target; once it was dead, there would be time to discuss why she kept looking at him so slyly.  And before he knew it, that chance came when the biggest, ugliest, damnable werewolf leapt from the ends of the canopy above.

Its landing shook the ground beneath them yet as it did so there was plenty of time for Hysaeda to swing his right arm around, gripping the scimitar tightly, and feel the edge of the blade connect to something solid.  It wasn't until he heard a familiar thud of a body land uselessly on the ground and the rolling of something round go across the soil and into a nearby bush, that he was satisfied with the blow.  Slowly he glanced at the animal he just decapitated, assured at the fact that his heartbeat had been steady the entire time, and regarded it only slightly, feeling the determination to kill fade away into the recesses of his veins.  "Poor bastard," he said walking away from the body.  "Didn't even have time to attack.  Nevertheless I hate those things.  Come on, there's still much distance to cover before we get to a good spot."

[Anonymous]

Bresthra took the moment to peer up at the sky before they went on their way. Over the many different realms she'd visited, those with stars were by far the best. Her home in the abyss had no stars, but rather, was perpetually cloudy and muted. What light was managed during the day wasn't enough to be called 'sunlight'. Vampires could wander out in this pale, false daylight and be perfectly fine. To Bresthra, her home had no real daylight. Just a brighter shade of gray. Then there were the worlds with no stars. Cast eternally in some dark universe where only the moon shone and the sun rose at the end of the long, black nights. Those were interesting, but not beautiful. Not like this. Seeing the various points of light in the sky was always comforting to her. They were too alien to be from her home, and too bright to be in the Underdark. A silent reminder she was free from both.

When Bresthra turned her attention to him, she was a little surprised to see that the drow was studying her. Not in the guard like way he had before, sizing her up as a potential threat, but rather like one would look at something... bewildering. Strange or unexpected. Granted, she'd eyed him in almost the same light not a moment ago. How different they were for being cut of almost the same physical cloth. Pale hair, black skin, and red eyes. Though the shades were different, the similarities were hard to deny. Although he looked like he belonged in the scenery and she did not. Bresthra came from a typically cold climate, and as such, had bit of a resistance to colder weather. This mountain air was perfect. Comfortable. In Naratyr, a city in her abyssal home, it snowed all the time. Ice froze to the buildings like a second wall, and the wind tore from the Frozen Waste into the city with the bite only frost could have. It was cold, perpetually so. One did not live in Naratyr and have a low tolerance to it or they died. Even so, she'd came prepared with varying garments in her bag. One of the more useful inventions from her home. It could hold an endless amount, never changing shape or weight. Very useful.

She watched him walk past her with an amused quirk to her lips. Was he purposefully being so crafty in always walking so close to her, or was it continually a non-chalant habit of his. Whatever the reason, it was rather curious. Rather than ask, or inform him that if he wanted to be close, he could, Bresthra merely followed. Like a good little drow. She'd traveled enough that she was easily able to keep up and keep pace. Not the sort of gait she'd set if she were leading, but Bresthra wasn't so she conformed to his. She used this opportunity to peer about and continue her observation of their surroundings. Even though he did become a part of the scenery she happened to like watching the most. Bresthra had a healthy interest in someone that seemed as learned as he. At least when it came to nature. She'd never been able to connect like that, though she'd only made a mild attempt at it. The natural world was something that fascinated her, intrigued her, but not something she was so keenly interested in as to study. It was like magic, but a form of it she did not nor had no desire to learn. The display, the effect, was brilliant. But not in a millennia did Bresthra want to know why simply because that would ruin it for her. It was nice that something was so foreign to her that it remained stunning no matter how many times she saw it.

Because she was paying rather close attention to Hysaeda, she noted when he drew his scimitar. Bresthra made no outward sign that she'd noticed... and it didn't seem like he was trying to keep it from her. She turned her attention to their surroundings, and this time she really looked. Past the magic of the scenery, Bresthra tried to figure out what would make him decide to draw the blade. She would have used a spell, if she'd cared to really know. But her way of dealing with most threats was to wait and see what happened. Then, if necessary, destroy it with a bit of Necromancy. Bresthra only caught half glimpses of... something. Still she cast no spell. The thought didn't ever occur to her.

She was invested enough their surroundings that she made no effort to make conversation. There was a time and place for conversation, and while she was discovering new things... well, it could wait. Besides, with that blade drawn he seemed rather intent on... something.

Bresthra was suitably surprised when a werewolf revealed itself. Fear shot up her spine as she automatically thought of the worst case – that it was S'ric. If her Mother's Hound was sent after her, she'd have no choice but to step in between the two. And that was her first reaction. That her Mother's Hound was here, and that Hysaeda was about to die only because he'd been around her. That thought lasted as long as it took Hysaeda to swing his blade. Only then did Bresthra realize the beast before them was smaller than S'ric, dirtier, without those blue eye that froze Bresthra in place. No, it wasn't him.

Bresthra breathed a huge sigh of relief when Hysaeda decapitated the animal. She felt a small pang of sympathy. After all, werewolves were usually just hungry outcasts... but she wasn't about to wish the brute had been successful in his hopes of making a meal out of them. "Poor Bastard," she heard Hysaeda say as he started walking away. Bresthra had to agree. Her gaze went to him at the second half, when he'd finished with, "Come on, there's still much distance to cover before we get to a good spot." For as jumpy as he had been when they'd first met, he seemed to be fine with leading her now. Which actually made her smile as she thought about it. Bresthra prized herself on being... well, friendly. Sharess nor Bresthra took little delight in being scary, aggressive in a violent way, or appearing threatening. Life was too good for all that. What she and her goddess shared was a want of pleasure. Was the desire to live fully, experience much, and enjoy themselves. In lots of different ways. "My champion," Bresthra teased a little as she quickened her pace to actually walk next to him. As sad as the dead werewolf was, at least he'd acted for the betterment of both of them. She remained close, silent, and no longer interested in the scenery. There was something much more fascinating right next to her.

[Lion]

Like Bresthra, Hysaeda was comfortable with the surrounding atmosphere.  The air caressed his dark skin like a blanket might a child and despite his armor covering only his torso, there were still spaces in which the cool night air could grace his flesh.  He was indigenous to the mountains and therefore would expect every place he traveled would be cool enough within reason; all except that damned desert city of Essryn.  As much as he was in tune with the weather, so was he with the nature about him.  This was his real home, this forested land where he could be secluded from the troubles of civil law or society in general and be one with the wild.  It was here that he learned to appreciate the true beauty of the natural world, the paths of stars, and how to connect with the spirit world.  He learned much in his time alone and most of all, how to survive.  It was his stalwart belief that all things were looking to have an advantage over another somehow and the primary reason why he decapitated the lycan beast.

It was kill it, or have it kill either him or Bresthra and he wasn't about to let an innocent be harmed, no matter how disturbing, crazy, or half-naked he found her.  If he wasn't going to kill her, he certainly wasn't going to let some creature of the night take that charge for him; sure she was a drow, the creature Umbraeons hated beyond all else, but in all honesty, he didn't have much against her to begin with.  Perhaps, he might even be able to understand her better when they reached a good resting destination.  Then he could properly ask his questions regarding just who she was.  She'd only given him her name, but he needed to know a little more than that if he was going to go anywhere else with her.

Hysaeda loosened his once death grip upon the handle and allowed his fingers to gently caress the leather-wrapped hilt.  The paint-like blood of the werewolf dripped a little at the edge of the scimitar and it took only a few wipes of a cloth from his pack to clean it.  But he wasn't ready to put it away just yet.  There were more things in the woods far more powerful than this sorry excuse for a dog.  He certainly had more to fear from an outcast Umraeon tribe than from a werewolf; at least a werewolf wasn't bent on blackmail or torture.  However, he couldn't say the same for Bresthra as she walked up from behind him to his side.  He still didn't know what he thought of her.

Though her action of walking to his side caused him to sigh in relief.  At least she was no longer in a place where her eyes could linger on his behind.  His ears twitched a little when she spoke; regarding him as her 'champion' if he heard her right.  That didn't stop him from glaring at her a little in response.  He perked his eyebrows up and said gruffly, "Don't be presumptuous."

He went on in silence after that and led her to what felt most familiar to him as he traversed this side of the mountain in daylight.  They came upon a familiar knoll that sparked recognition.  "This seems to the place.  There's a spot where I made camp a week or so ago.  I think some of my supplies are still there."  With a nod to himself, Hysaeda ignored that blood-rushing feeling he got when he was too close to her and, instead, focused on getting where he was going to.  They passed a river, one he suspected to be the one he peered into earlier before sunset, and toward the edge of the hillock where it rounded off in a climbing cliff-like hill.  There, away from the trees, was a small cavern inlet, a makeshift lean-to of sorts, that was covered by a flap of sewed-hide.  This was not a permanent dwelling but one that suited him for the time being; never in a million years did he think he would come back to it.

"Here it is," he said before sheathing his sword once more.  "It's not much, but it should do for the evening.  I have rations and drink to last for a few more weeks.  All should be enough for now."  He bent over and crouched into the cavern.  It was small for one and couldn't entirely be called a cave because caves were...well, cavernous and this one just wasn't.  With digression, the 'inlet' as he could call it, had the remnants of a hearth and a few items like wrapped herbs, and a few leather-bound bottles strewn about.

Stepping toward the makeshift hearth, Hysaeda grabbed a handful of the remaining fuel that resided in corner and threw it over the ashes.  Then he placed his hands over it as if he was attempting to heal it.  His lips uttered silent words and slowly but surely his fingertips and hands began to heat up.  Opening his eyes, he stared into the slowly growing pile of smoke that emerged from the pile of twigs, branches, and dead leaves that would light the cavern for the evening.  Eventually a flame rose and emerged in full force.  Pulling his hands away, he was satisfied at this little trick that Heilrak had taught him, to make fire in his studying the early stages of mysticism.

"There," he muttered as he fell back on his haunches, "That ought to keep us warm."

[Anonymous]

She had no problems walking next to him, to where ever he would lead them. Were she the suspicious sort, she might question why he was being so nice though he knew nothing about her. But Bresthra, truthfully, didn't care. Life would go where it would until she reached the end of it all. And like everything else mortal, she would eventually die. To Bresthra Xorlarrin, that was almost a novel idea. Most of her family had sought immortality for one reason or another. And most had achieved immortality. Whether it was to spend the rest of time as a banshee, vampire, Lich, or in her Mother's case, a Goddess... For her to accept the fact she'd die was decidedly un-xorlarrin of her. Though most of what Bresthra did was very much not what her family would do. She was the only one that didn't pay heed to her Mother, the only one to turn away from Thanatos and everything the Xorlarrin name carried there... the only one to worship another goddess... Though there were rumors of one of her cousins following one of the Demon Princes. Not that it mattered.

Bresthra was pulled out of her thoughts when he said, "Don't be presumptuous." Of course that was in response to her calling him her champion. The glare he added to the words made Bresthra laugh softly. To be nice, she didn't say anything else as they continued on their way. Rather, an amused smile remain fixed on her lips as she spent more time watching him than the scenery. It had lost its glow. He had not.  She'd truly never met someone like him. Bresthra was absently curious how long he would stay around her before going on his own way. He seemed like the type that preferred to be alone. That was how she found him. Apparently rather far away from any sort of city... why else would he be out here?  Bresthra's thought that he spent a lot of time alone was further confirmed when they finally stopped and he informed her this was a place he'd been a couple weeks back. So he'd been out here awhile. She noted the river... Bresthra would have to come back and see how cold the water would be... and if she could tolerate it. There was nothing so refreshing as bathing in mountain rivers. Bresthra continued to follow him to the inlet... then smiled despite herself. Rations and drink enough for a couple weeks. How long did he plan on being around her?  What's more, if the opportunity presented itself, would she continue to travel with him? The answer was easy .Of course she would.

Bresthra watched him duck into his previous camp before following him, rather curious. She'd not have known this was even here without him leading. Though Bresthra's idea of a camp was reclining somewhere, anywhere, and drifting off. Sure, sometimes she awoke to unpleasant things. But other times she didn't. Normal animals were not a concern of a necromancer cleric, and anything that would be had yet to wake her up. She took a moment to survey the little space, noting the bottles and herbs.

Bresthra's attention was drawn to him as he moved over to what had to be the hearth. She shifted where she was, against the far wall, and sat as he went about lighting the fire. Using magic. Her brows rose just a little and her smile shifted to a smirk. Was he a hunter... and a sorcerer? Bresthra was fairly sure that her Mother would've had a heart attack if she knew someone who was a magic user decided to turn to a life of seclusion and nature when they had such an ability at their disposal. For all that Bresthra had pulled away from her family, her Mother was still very much a drow.

She watched as flames leapt up, coating the whole of the inlet in its warm, orange glow. It make the shadows that played over Hysaeda sharper. Because she was behind him, he seemed more framed it the glow than highlighted by it. The added light gave her a new way to study him. Some of his features, his armor, and weapons, stood out more. The general shape of him was lost though. The shadows across his back, shoulders, and neck blurred the details to be found there. To Bresthra, the affect was rather... wonderful. She leaned back, silently, against the rock and didn't even notice how cool it was against her as she watched him for several breaths. Only when Bresthra was sure she'd taken the appropriate amount of time to appreciate the scene in front of her did she turn her attention to her bag.

As she fiddled with the ties, her thoughts were still on him. Several thoughts swirled around her mind, but it all came down to how different he was. From everything she knew. From everyone. Her curiosity was attached to him. Bresthra wanted to know him, about him, what had led him to become what he was. But in that came the knowledge that if she knew him, he would become familiar. Things were always complicated then. Bresthra stared down at her bag, mulling over what she should ask him first. With so many things she wanted to know, she wasn't quite sure what she should start with. In the end, she just settled with, "What were you doing out and about, alone, in the mountains?" Bresthra's blood red eyes shifted to him then, watching and waiting.

[Lion]

He was vaguely aware of the eyes that were surveying his form, taking in the smooth yet angular shapes that made him up, and he tried desperately, without avail, to prevent ht hairs on the back of his neck from standing on end as if a ghost were trying to reach out to him.  It was quite incomprehensible just why there was any interest in him; it wasn't like he was particularly fascinating.  Was he?  There were things in the greater sphere of the world that currently eluded his mental grasp; among those was the subject of attraction.  It was nigh impossible for him to believe that any woman would care to have an interest in him, because he didn't think there was any aspect of him he found remarkable enough to catch a woman's attention.  Well, there was the matter of his hair whose whiteness was so rare that it really only made him a glutton for punishment.

Still, even his unbeknownst ignorance could not stop his body from reacting in the only way it knew how: to retreat.  However, as much as he wish to be alone as he always did, he found Bresthra's company strangely welcomed.  It was a nice difference compared to the constant silence nature offered him.  As a plus to the argument, something compelled him to stay, something almost...inviting...  It was the dark, nocturnal energy that drew upon the spirit of the night and all creatures active within its caliginous realm.  He heard stories of how vampires were nearly driven mad with passion with the approach and arrival of a full moon.  But there were two things wrong with this assumption: One, the last time he checked he wasn't a vampire and, two, what he read in the stars a fortnight ago indicated that a full moon was a while away.  So, again, that brought up the subject of just why Bresthra kept a constant vigilance upon him.  Did he just so happen to look amusing?  Was there a big spider on his head or something?

He was gathering the gumption to inquire that very thing when she beat him to the punch.  He was not expecting her to ask, "What were you doing out and about, alone, in the mountains?"  Suddenly she wanted to know about him and that in itself was enough to send a sharp electric spark down his back.  Nobody ever wanted to know about him before, why now?  

"Uh," he began in attempt to answer; apparently he was still trying to recover from the shock.  "I live here.  And have for a little more than two hundred years.  I travel about from place to place, selling skins to traveling merchants and hunt for more.  I like to be with nature; it's the way of my people."

The answer, essentially, was purposefully vague.  It was that inherent feeling of distrust he had toward her.  How exactly was he to know that she wasn't going to try to locate his camp and lead more Drow there?  Just because he wasn't going to kill her, didn't mean that he was ready to let her have his life in her hands.  Then again, it was difficult to for him to trust any outsider, let alone a single drow.

"Please," he continued, feeling his confidence grow as the conversation would become, hopefully, more casual.  He positioned himself so that he was sitting cross-legged on the floor.  "Sit."  He shifted himself so that he was a medium distance from the fire and facing in her direction.  Then he proceeded to unequip the bow and quiver from his body.  His hands worked the intricate strings masterfully and slid the quiver from the shell of his armor and subsequently removed the bow.  The scimitar came next as his hands reached toward his waist and he untied the sheath strap.  All three items were placed neatly to his right in a far corner.  If he was going to get any rest then it might as well be comfortable.

Reaching into this flask he pulled out a medium sized flask and unpopped the top.  Immediately, the potent stench of hard liquor filled the air and a great swish resounded as Hysaeda took a quick swig of the liquid.  The fire burned down his throat but it was an Ankuman belief that liquor helped opened one's mind so long that it was consumed in adequate quantities.  Turning to Bresthra, he said, "Have some brandy," and laid the container beside her.

He leaned back casually against the wall, his right leg poised like an upside down V now wherein he rested his right arm atop it.  The light more thoroughly graced his features now, the warm glow reaching out to all and caressing his skin, much more satisfying than the night air had done only a moment before.  "You're Drow, Bresthra, aren't you?" he remarked without reserve.  "I shouldn't have fired that warning shot...  Your kind and I, have ill-gotten origins.  Do you even know what I am?"  His own amber-red eyes burned with the question as he stared back into hers, strangely riveted.

[Anonymous]

Hysaeda had clearly not been expecting her to ask anything. Of course that made her smile. Bresthra usually did the unexpected. Much to the confusion of those around her. Not even the closest person to her could guess what the drowess might do next. She'd simply surprised everyone too often to have them guess anymore. Bresthra liked to believe that was because she actually catered to her own whims and desires. Everyone else seemed restrained by some form moral, social, or otherwise personal obligations and standards. Bresthra did not. What care did she have if someone didn't like what she was doing? It was her life. In that regard, she had trouble understanding why some people didn't do what they wanted. You only lived once.

Even so, Hysaeda answered her. To her, the answer wasn't really vague. It made perfect sense. She nodded a little, showing she understood that he traveled. It's what she did, after all. Granted, she skipped out on the hunting and trading of skins. And Bresthra wasn't going to claim she was apart of nature at all. No, she rather liked creature comforts. That and she liked clothes. Fine fabrics like silk and lace.

Bresthra was pleased to see that he was getting comfortable. She shifted in place. The fire was a little bright without him in the way, but she was easily able to adjust. With the heat that accompanied that orange glow, Bresthra actually felt even more cozy than before. The warmth soaked into her clothes and was a welcomed sensation along her face, shoulders, and chest. The amount of skin exposed to the air made it easier to feel the fire. Her eyes even closed so she could focus on the sensation of the warmth on her. Bresthra remained content to sit, waiting, until there was a familiar scent in the air. One she knew very, very well. Her blood red eyes opened in time for her to watch him set the flask next to her and offer her some brandy.

Never one to turn down a free drink, Bresthra leaned forward to pick it up. As she brought the alcohol to her lips, it reminded her of her Father. Or the figure she'd consider her Father. He always drank brandy when flustered, or when he was meeting with someone he could remotely relax with. Bresthra could make a list of the things her Mother had done wrong, but hooking up with her Father was one of the things she'd actually done right. Bresthra took a rather small drink before passing the flask back to Hysaeda. She let the warmth ghost through her, spreading to her extremities. It would take quite a bit more alcohol for Bresthra to feel anything more than that initial warmth. Considering how many years she'd been heavy into alcohol... and even once she'd cleaned up some, she still drank on occasion. Bresthra had a rather high tolerance.

Once again, she opened her eyes when it seemed that he would say something. And she was not disappointed. Though what he said... She thought it rather silly he just asked her if she was a drow. She and he were one in the same. Or at least she would say so, considering their looks. Rather than correcting him right off, she let him finish. Her eyes matched his look as he asked, "Do you even know what I am?"

Bresthra stared into his exotically red eyes as she considered his question, going through all the observations she'd made since they'd met. His dress, his mannerisms, the quick way he'd dispatched the werewolf, the camp... the fact he traveled and had been for some time... all of it allowed her to sum up rather well who he seemed to be. But that was a 'who' and not a what. What he was... that was infinitely easier. But no matter how curious she was about him, what he'd said, 'Your kind and I, have ill-gotten origins.' Did not sit well with her. Not because she thought he might kill her... but because Bresthra was rather tired of having the crimes of her race hung about her neck like some sort of talisman. She took a long moment to answer him, mostly because she was wondering whether she should make the attempt to explain the differences between the individual and the race.

Bresthra brushed a silver strand of her hair behind a pointed ear. Then, she asked, "Are you telling me that I am responsible for the crimes of my race..." Bresthra smiled to take the sting from her words, "Or would you rather judge me as Bresthra, and we'll see where that leads us? What we are does not define who we are." His response to this would be rather crucial. It would tell her what sort of person she was dealing with, and whether or not there was any hope of them traveling anywhere together. While she could deal with racism, she had before, Bresthra found it was infinitely harder for others to tolerate her presence if they thought she was going to start spouting spiders and sacrifice them in their sleep. The Spider Queen really did give the whole of her race a bad name.

[Lion]

The silence that followed may as well have been a knife that stabbed through the thickness of the air.  By her silence, he felt it was safe to assume that she didn't know what he was.  And by their looks, he also thought that she would assume he was a Drow.  It would've been an acceptable answer had she said anything along those lines, but what she did respond with was another cause for surprise.  But instead of raised brows and a shocked visage, Hysaeda found himself involuntarily grinning and a deep chuckle erupting from his throat.  He found her sudden conclusion overwhelmingly amusing and when the words lost their charm he kept a low smirk on his lips as he said, "You trap my tongue and twist my words.  I didn't mention anything about holding whatever alleged crimes your race has committed against you.  Don't just immediately assume that I'm going to hate you for being a Drow.  No," he shook his head, "I'm not.  If I had good reason to do so, then I would but so far I haven't found anything."

Hysaeda reached into his bag once more and traded the flask for a small rolled up pack of leather.  As his hand busied themselves unraveling the material for the contents within, he continued, "You and I are different.  You most likely already noticed that from how differently we are dressed.  But there's more to the story.  You see, I'm a Umbraeon; we are the native Dark Elves of Le'ranna.  Situated primarily this mountain range.  Out ways are as esoteric as the meaning of gods and humans would call us nothing more than bloody, barbaric savages."  The roll was undone and revealed the dry-ish smell of jerky, which was probably bear meat from the looks and smell of it, but had it's flavor as he popped a few pieces into his mouth."

"The thing is Umbraeons are not the same as Drow.  We bear only the same dark skin and eyes.  Most of my kind have brightly colored hair: Red, blue, green, black.  And only on the rarest of occasions does the color white appear.  That's why I look so much like you do."  Upon finishing his piece, he laid the pack beside him as to allow Bresthra a slice if the notion suited her.  He was about to explain the true message he wanted to convey, but found the works lacking.

Instead, like a masterful orator, he allowed a moment of silence to settle.  It was almost as if he offered reverence to the dead or at least were giving sermons (though Ankuman were the kind of spiritual leaders to do such a thing).  Fear of direct conversation, of revealing too much, of being discovered, no longer flowed through the audacity of is veins.  Replacing it was little more than cold determination, as if he needed to prove to her what he was saying was true.

He leaned across now, much closer to her than he would have wanted to be had he a conscious mind of what he was doing.  His face was fixed in apathy yet his eyes burned in solemnity like a fire in the night.  When he gained enough distance toward her, he rested on both knees, stopping when he was but a few inches from her face, and leaned back against the wall to his side.  

Looking at her intently, he spoke softly as if any thing above a whisper could make the thread of tension snap between them.  "And yet despite all our differences, for there are far more than I want to count, Umbraeons have an inbred distaste for anything that has to do with the Drow.  It's in our blood and my ancestors would most likely claim that you're no more than a common demon, meant to prey upon the righteous and tempt the weak.  Olden stories speak of a common hatred.  Though the same can't entirely be said of me.  Like I told you before, I hold nothing against you.  As a matter of fact, I think you're pretty lucky for having found one of the more tolerant Umbraeons to be around.  If anyone else had found you, I suspect that you'd be dead."

Hysaeda smirked, a crooked grin of satisfied tension, and hoped that what he said was executed congenially enough.  Successfully rendered non-hostile conversation mostly (and usually covertly) depended on not so much on what was said but on how it was said.  Apparently, he was still unaware of how close he was, or else, if he did, he undoubtedly would have retreated several feet from her.  But he persisted in pleasant conversation, grabbing another piece of jerky as he did so.  "But what of you Bresthra?  What might you have against me?"

[Anonymous]

Bresthra decided she liked his laugh. It made her smile. She watched him, curious and intent. His words though did not match the smile. Rather, her blood red eyes narrowed just a fraction and her smile slid into a small smirk. He sounded almost like some of the more liberal surface elves she'd spoken to. A little full of themselves, a little confident that they would always judge a person by who they were rather than what. And usually that was the case. But most of the time... when it came down to it... Bresthra would see if he was that sort.

She continued to watch him, the smirk in place. The whole time she was sizing him up, wondering if they were about to have some sort of social debate about their respective places in the world. Bresthra didn't much care about how one thought about drow. As a whole, the dark elves hadn't earned a right to wander around and be accepted. But Bresthra wasn't the type to skulk and remain in the shadows just because the rest of the world thought her evil. She knew of a demon who was now a famed Performance Master. Granted, it'd taken him a plethora of years to convince most people he wasn't going to kill them... but now... Bresthra didn't think that she could ever do as well as he had, but one had to start somewhere.  

She listened to him list the differences, and explain that his white hair was actually a rarity. When he paused, she almost thought he expected her to say something. Whatever that could be, she had no idea. Bresthra just kept watching. She was terribly surprised that he moved close to her. The smirk faded and a serious cast settled over her features. This was terribly important to him. Bresthra didn't quite understand his need to clarify, but she would listen. Her expression remained neutral for the whole of what he had to say, as he explained how his flavor of people hated hers. She'd heard this before. She knew this story. The details were different, but the story was all the same. Drow were bastards. Demons. Devils. The scum of the elvan world.

The smirk he had when he was done caught her a little off guard. But he was still close. She studied him as he asked then, "But what of you Bresthra? What might you have against me?" Bresthra would've smiled. That answer was so very easy. She had nothing against anyone. Not against the surface elves that had shot her, or the ones that had gagged and tied her in a tent with the intent to kill her while the 'purifying' rays of sunlight were upon her. Bresthra didn't hate anyone, for any reason. Because she was simply too busy enjoying herself. The elves that had shot her with arrows, she'd saved from gnolls. The ones whom had thought to sacrifice her she'd warned against a drow raiding party.

She studied him, taking a moment to imprint those very exotic eyes of his into her memory. She could've told him everything, and explained that she wasn't capable of holding anything against anyone. But they were words. Compared to the passion he'd shown, how determined he was to distinguish between the blasphemous drow and his own people... She had no words to match that. Nothing that would explain to him that Bresthra lived and loved by her Goddess' will. All she could think to do, to explain it, required more than mere words.

Slowly, so he would know she meant no harm, her hand came up to brush against his cheek. And as he had moved close to her to speak, so did she. But Bresthra finished the distance between them, pressing her lips to his in a quick, chaste, and unexpected kiss. Nothing more than the briefest of contact before her hand withdrew and she leaned away from him. "I hold nothing against you, nor will I ever," she breathed gently with a smile one usually reserved for a lover.

[Lion]

Mist was a phenomenon of nature and as every minute of night progressed, though still quite early in the evening, already the thickness of it seemingly compounded together then further it descended upon the mountains.  Like water, it seeped into the most labyrinthine spaces, clouding, blinding, obscuring.  And it seemed that it was the mist that climbed into Hysaeda's mind and made it hazy.  He felt faint for the briefest of seconds yet elevated and glowing from within.  Warmth engulfed him, not quite from the fire leaping magnetically in the hearth, but from something else; something that managed to escape his understanding.  His heartbeat rang in his ears, like the constant beat of a drum and then he remembered that had this exact same feeling when he first found the drow gazing upon him back in the woods.

Still the clouds making him vague and dizzy threatened to hermetically seal him from within his prison.  Blood rushed through him and he wasn't quite sure what burst of adrenaline triggered such actions.  And still he locked his gaze upon her, watching as would a trapped animal while surmounted the rest of the distance between them.  He fought through the haze, wanting to say something even though she moved so slowly toward him.  Her touch upon his flesh sent ragged sparks of electricity through it and down his neck.  Again the hairs became erect.  Then it happened.

Bresthra brought herself forward, the heat emanating from her skin, seeming to make him sweat and pressed her lips to his.  There was little pressure and the motion was swift and light, but it was enough to make him lost.  If only for a moment.  Then the clouds dissipated and he was left there like a dumb drunkard, barely realizing the fact that she'd just kissed him.  He was swept away and found himself slightly registering words being uttered from her side.  When he looked up at her, he was tempted to say, 'huh?' but then shook his head and listened closer.

Hysaeda snapped out of his trance and said, "What was that for?  Why did you kiss me?"  His eyes became bewildered, slightly disgusted but mostly just confused.  The truth of the matter was though, he'd never been kissed.  Nobody wanted anything to do with him so, naturally, why would they want to kiss him.   Umbraeons had very little restriction when it came to using mates and parents usually never interfered when it came time for their children to find a wife or husband of their choosing.

He wasn't marrying any time soon and was rather suited to living alone.  But even as his mind searched endlessly for reasons why she couldn't use words alone to explain herself, he failed each time.  He wondered always, for he had a calculating mind and questions always arose with someone like him, however sometimes there were things that should be enjoyed without thought or discretion.  He was yet to discover such a thing that didn't have anything to do with nature.

[Sorry 'tis a little short.  I was running low on muse juices.]

[Anonymous]

Bresthra watched him, easily able to see she'd flustered the man. Despite how momentarily lost he looked, it made her actually giggle softly. Her hand came up to cover the sound as her attention remained riveted on Hysaeda.  She couldn't recall the last time such a simple thing, a quick kiss, had ever done that to anyone. But that was the beauty of a first kiss. That moment when one doesn't suspect the other, the first contact of seemingly intimate intention... First kisses were a favorite of hers because they were so very rare. You only got one with each person, and each one was different. The brief contact she'd had with Hysaeda was perfect for the moment. So when he snapped out of his confused state and demanded to know why she'd done it, Bresthra couldn't help herself. She laughed. It wasn't the soft, hidden giggle from before, but rather the light, airy sound of a female drow thoroughly pleased with the way she'd behaved.

Bresthra eyed him after he'd asked his question, a fully self satisfied smile fixed on her lips. She finally came to wonder how often such a thing happened to him. How many times had Hysaeda been close enough to someone –for- it to happen? Not just physically, but... Well...  Like this. How he'd allowed her to get close enough, whether through curiosity or confusion, it didn't matter. Her gaze idly played over his features as she tried to think of an appropriate response. Why had she? Because that had seemed the best way to emphasize her words. That and Bresthra was rather attracted to the wild dark elf. She'd never seen anything like him. Given the nature of her, reinforced by her Goddess, Bresthra saw no harm in doing as she had. Though it'd clearly baffled  him.

After a suitable amount of silence had passed since he'd asked his question, Bresthra decided she should offer some sort of verbal explanation... even if she wasn't quite sure what a good one would be. In the end, Bresthra shrugged with a small smile. "It seemed to be the right sort of response." At least that was the truth. Bresthra then leaned to pick up a piece of the jerky and take a small bite. Was it so strange to him that she'd kissed him? Besides, it had been very brief. The barest of contacts. Bresthra savored the flavor of the meat, taking her time to chew slowly while she watched him. It was something she'd never had before, but that didn't mean anything. Rather, she liked the taste. Her thoughts shifted to ponder what it would be made of, so she looked away from him and at the meat she held in her hand.

[ Ish ok. I fail too. ]