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Dieu_Le_Fera
 
PostPosted: Fri, Feb 18 2011, 20:07 PM 

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Joined: 29 Jun 2009
Location: Philadelphia

*Thysaeryl stands in the forest trying to keep to her duties but is approached by one stranger after another about the wrong doings of the Eternal Order. Thysaeryl seems bewildered by this she would question out loud often enough... "why do they come and tell me about this?... Why am I the focal point for the opposition against them?" Thysaeryl would shake her head and mutter and do her best to continue her duties to the grove*

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"It is by the holy beans of Java that thoughts acquire speed, the hands acquire shakes, the shakes become a warning, it is by Java alone that I set my mind in motion."


 
      
Naivatkal
 
PostPosted: Fri, Feb 18 2011, 21:01 PM 

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Joined: 26 May 2010

Tyrus, on several of his many travels into and through the forest, would look upon those pestering the elven woman with a shake of his head. He, too, had heard of what had transpired in the forest and it troubled him in more ways than one. Be that as it may, however, Tyrus would not be one of those people to continually question her and bring up the subject. Instead he treated her much like always: simply leaving her be, save for a solitary firm nod to her in passing. The only other thing different would be a small note left behind while she was elsewhere, wrapped around the rope leading to the treehouse at the crossroads.

The note would simply bear the name 'Thysaeryl' in clear, unremarkable script of blue written on the outside so it would be plainly seen. The inside would read:

You have more allies than you likely realize.

It was left there without knowing whether or not the intended reader would receive it, caring little if someone else ended up tossing it away. The message was simple and slightly cryptic, though not all that important, and while he would have liked her to read it, Tyrus would not fret over it, already letting it leave the fore of his mind. Neither would he linger to watch, simply continuing on his business of wandering in his usual fashion.

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Whomst've'll'd'mn't I play:
Salema Nefahri :: A penny for your thots
Zrae'a'stra'fryn :: That which nightmares are made of
Khasir :: From the East a storm is coming


 
      
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