Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

She placed the dish on the altar of the shrine and filled it with water. She placed a leaf of ash, one of oak, and a clipping of a bramble to float on the water. She closed her eyes and entreated Silvanus to hear the prayers of Midsummer with the ritual of Ash, Oak, and Thorn. It had been a shock to her system, being accepted, being called on to be a leader, and having people that waited to here her voice. She’d arrived a woman of few words and grown into the roles they asked of her. Still her heart beat was wild and the animal in her reacted sympathetically, offering to fight or run as wild things do.

It was always like that inside her, a swirling tangle of emotion and instinct that she kept very well guarded. She stood, baring no outward sign of her discomfort, and looked over the crowd. She briefly told them about what she had just done and what she intended yet to do. They all listened. They waited. They watched her with reverence, and she did her best to provide what they had come for.

"I will pray, make a sacrifice, and anoint myself for meditation later. When I am done I will stand and offer a final blessing ‘May you always return to your trees.’ It is a bad translation, for it means many things to a druid, and by the end of the prayer you may understand."

She knelt and offered her prayer. . .

“Each morning I sing the sun awake and each night I greet the moon's soft light.
The trees are the pillars of my church, the stones my pews, and my pious altar.
I live as one with all the realms, so may the wild always support my body.
May the sky ever stretch above my head and may the waters ever surround my spirit.
May I keep the ways of the cycle, the balance until my dying day.
And may I join the ground joyfully when that day comes for life is balanced in death,
Deep within the still center of my being may I find peace, and silently within the quiet inner grove may I share it.
With those who came before...
So I say now this blessing to all present...
If your heart breaks - may it be made whole
If you grieve - may tears free you and bring comfort.
If you are angry - may the waters speak patience to you.
For all is the balance, the unyielding cycle.
When you are lost in any way. . . May you return to your trees.”

She took the oak carving of a flower from her hair. Each carving Arturi made for her was a distinct work of his love. This one he must have known would be the midsummer sacrifice. It had just a bit more detail to it. She let her eyes linger on it a final time. He made them all knowing they would be precious to her, and there was one thing a piece of wood that was precious to a Silvanite was destined for. She took it between her fingers and snapped it in half. The sting in her heart never faded, but that was required. It was not a sacrifice if you did not break and burry something useful or precious. She placed it into the ground to be reclaimed by the earth and covered it over with soil. She dipped her fingers in ground mistletoe and swiped the ash across her brow.

She stood and relief was almost instant as she walked down the slope and gave up the hill to Sane for his own reverence. She spoke to many that day, and in the old grove she summoned the courage to sing. The beasts of the wild sing and dance. It is natural. As a female Silvanite it was her duty to sing to the forest during the Dance of the Dryads. Then to dance and spread seeds. Since her encounter with the sea guardian she had noticed her desire to sing and the strength of her voice had increased near water and the sea called behind them.

She had rediscovered forgotten shapes. She could call upon the legends of the old woods, and her elemental shape now garnered additional powers. It was a thing she keep discovering, unfortunately, at Lucia’s expense as the lingering fire aura licked out and swiped at her. All in all it was a fine day despite the mishap, and while she and Arturi parted to do other things, they found themselves back together at the end of the day.

Nothing untoward. Not mad rending of clothing. They folded into each others' embrace and spoke the truths of their hearts and the memories they had already built. He proved to her daily that falling in love was a perpetual process. She did not fall there and merely achieve a new emotion. She continued to fall. At first the sensation was scary, but it became warm and welcome. It was a sensation of relief and bliss. The feeling of coming home. . .

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“Honey, I’m home!” Jellal called to the closet of a room that passed as an apartment in the Hive. His next door neighbor pounded on the wall at his yelling. The obscenities were not worth repeating. Jellal put his face by the wall where the thumping came from and cooed, “Awwww, I love you too!”

As the swearing became louder and more intense he sat on his bedroll and kicked off his boots. He’d had no luck bringing home a woman tonight. He had never outgrown the need to have something soft and supple leaned against him in the night. He slept better, and he still slept well even knowing he’d kindly show them the door in the morning. He knew he was a bit of a cad that way and grimaced, “Gods I hope I had a son.”

“Shhh,” He cooed to her and held the teacup to her chapped lips.

Her fingers closed around the cup as she drank it down with an insatiable thirst. He black locks were slick with sweat and the decay of the hive. They stuck to his blue skin as he looked down into her clammy complexion. Her eyes were closed so she did not see the cruel smile that erupted on his face.

The way you suffer is just… Artful…

“It’s getting worse,” Melani’s voice rasped out, “There is no nature here, no influence of the oakfather to protect me. I feel the toxins seeping in from the very air. I will not last much longer.”

“I know,” He said gently, “I have already arranged for the twins to be cared for. I could not find a combined home. Forgive me, they will be separated.”

Bitter coughs lifted her with their force. He pushed her forward and patted her back to get her through them and then caught her back into his arms with her head pressed back against his chest. She shook with fatigue and moaned, “You have done so much for us. I cannot but thank you.”

“Shh, now,” He tightened his arms around her withering body and murmured, “I know you still love this ‘Ramsus’, but you are my angel, and I will look over you until your last breath.”

She turned her face to look at him with surprise. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks gaunt. Somehow she still managed to be lovely. He cupped her chin and tilted her face upward as he began to descend, “Surely it’s not surprising that I’ve fallen for you, my sweet Melani.”

She pulled away and tried to tug out of his arms. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, “No, please no. You will only hurt more when I am gone. I already owe you too much.”

“Yes,” He voice grew cold, “Yes you do. I am not sure how my patience remains intact hearing you refuse me.”

His eyes blazed and he rose from the bed. Then the anguished sounds of infants crying filled the room. She crawled toward the edge of the bed and looked like she might even try to get up. Such was a mother’s love. She was close to her last breath, but the sound of her infants drove her on. He took in the glorious sight of her wretched state before he stopped her and said, “Your children need tending and you are too weak. I will see to them.”

He moved to the nursery leaving her pitiful, hacking cough behind him as his smile again returned. The twins were asleep, and their cries were one of his illusions. He did love to torment that woman, particularly every time she pulled away from him. He took an hour to read, occasionally pausing to listen to the sweet music of her percussive coughing fits. Finally it was time and he went to the kitchen to make her tea. Into that tea he placed another drop of the consumptive disease that was spoiling her.

For months now he had been slowly letting it eat away at her, keeping the dosing steady to overcome her druidic resistance. She was right that it was easier here, but Talona’s curse was no trifle even to a druid at full power, particularly one of Silvanus’ chosen. He smiled as the black drops swirled and twisted as though alive and then disappeared into the tea as if it never were. One drop every hour or so to keep her sick. He looked at the vial and wondered if it was time to give her two.

I love watching you writhe. I have never seen anything more beautiful than your sweat-soaked skin as you twist in agony and moan for forgiveness to the gods that cannot hear you here…

A few more days yet… He capped it and brought her the next cup of tea. As he passed the hallway mirror he looked into his eyes. They were blue and the center, bleeding into yellows, oranges, and reds like a fire that burned outward from his pupils. He considered his blue complexion for a moment and wondered if he should make his disguises more human looking in the future.

“Hansen?” Her voice rasped, “Hansen I am so thirsty.”

“Coming, Angel…”

Sarisay sat with a dull thump in the cabin whose location would never be known. She penned out the events to warn her people;

Dear members of the Enclave,

You should know I am now known as an enemy of Doron Amor. I am writing this note immediately after my conversation with the Counciler, Alarielle so it may be preserved for our records in case justice needs to be innacted for my untimely demise. By justice I mean notify authorities. I will have no pacts of vengeance on my behalf.

First she sneaked up to the meeting place. I let her have her fun until she settled against the wagon across from me then I made clear eye contact with her to make known that I could see her. She leaned against the wagon, closing her eyes with a soft sigh and folded her arms like a mother preparing to chastise me and said, “So. . . Why am I having to deal with rumors about me having summoned or, whatever, that Balor that was in the forest?"

That was surprising even to my own ears as I have certainly never said any such thing. I answered honestly as I always do, “I would imagine that the truth of what happened has been distorted in the telling from mouth to ear as "civilized" people like to make the story they heard more interesting in each telling. Though if you ask me the truth is far more wretched.”

“Then what should the rumor have been, if told truthfully?” She asked as if the words “rumor” and “truth” were interchangeable.

I pulled out my notebook and read her own words back to her, “I'll not save one of them" I explained that this was said as women and children emerged crying and engulfed in abyssal flame. Oh, and that I never leave out that they were orcs. I continued, "They'll die today if not by the flame then by my archers arrows."

“Did you leave out that those orcs hunt my people?” She accused, “Starting at a very young age? Or do you portray them as innocents, who've never done anything wrong?”

Her tone was mocking and cold, dripping with its normal arrogance. I would not be provoked and answered again honestly, ”No, nor do I leave out that orcs bring axe and fire into my wilds, but a child not yet able to reach my hip is an innocent. They have had no choice in life. It is... A special sort of evil not to recognize this. A level of mindless hate I will not condone nor be silent about.”

“Oh, of course,” She continued to mock, “Let me save all the orc children so they can grow up and continue to hunt my people, and destroy nature, as is their nature.”

I continued to remain calm, as she likes to provoke things to a fight and I would not play her game, “It is how they are raised, as is evidenced by orc-blooded not raised in their tribes.”

“You say that like our blood does not learn us towards certain actions,” She argued, “Like the gods have no influence over us. Just as Corellon has the power to guide me, regardless of my upbringing, Gruumash can do the same to any with Orcish blood.”

“No, I say that recognizing that we always have a choice,” I corrected, “If we are shown another way and many orc-blooded shown another path make the right choice. That gives me no right to dismiss their lives as worthless.”

“And many,” She glared, “Many more, do not.”

I wondered how many orc bloods she had met and given the chance to speak much less decide right or wrong. That I could not help but smile at, “Spoken like a zealot. Where is the temperance of your advanced years, elf?”

“Better a Zealot, true to my beliefs, and my gods, than a traitor who will betray my people,” She spat at me.

“It is treacherous to your people to give a child a chance?” I asked truly intrigued by her broken logic, “I wonder if all your people agree.”

“It is trecherous to my people to save those who would kill them,” She said like we were again not talking about a small half-human boy that could not have reached my hip on his toes and I am small woman, “And reguardless if every elf in existance agrees, Corellon would.”

“Oh so you speak for your god now?” I continued in blunt honesty as is my nature, “That is perhaps the most arrogant thing I have ever heard.”

She went on about how she was a bladesinger and how qualified indeed she was to speak on behalf of her god. I let her go on, hoping she might exhaust her voice but the woman can speak for hours if only to listen to herself. She went into a rant of how ignorant I was, further trying to bait me into another of her might makes right showdowns. I remained peacefully under my tree, closed my eyes and shook my head as I finally interrupted her monologue, “I have traveled far and met many but that is not the point. Not of this conversation. We have diverged from the original goal. You wished to know if I was telling people you personally summoned a balor. I have not.”

“Telling, implying, whatever,” She dismissed, “These rumors stop. Because if they begin to cause the trouble that they eventually will. . . It will not end well, for anyone.”

Letting go of the fact that I have not implied anything, nor ever said she personally summoned a balor, and I have only ever told the truth of what happened that day, I spoke to address the new issue, “Are you threatening me Chancellor? Because I have only ever spoken the truth. If you have trouble for the things you say I suggest you think better on what you say before it exits your lips. There were some 11 or so people there that day. I am not the only one that heard and saw it. Nor am I the only to speak on it. I am just the only one who takes notes to make sure I do not distort the truth and the only one that will tell you so to your face.”

“Councilor,” She corrected and went on another tirade saying that I distort the truth to my purposes. What purposes could she think I possibly have in starting a fight with her? I want no part of her but I will not silently cower when I see evil things done. I insisted that I distort nothing. I say exactly what happened that day and I even make note of my own contempt for most of the orc race. I told her I would not be silent about what I saw either. I have no reason to protect her from her own words.

“Your actions are leading you down a path that would make Doron Amar your enemy,” she again threatened, and I restate, she is making this threat not because of any rumor from my lips but because she finds the truth cumbersome, “It is not a path you want to tread. You distort the truth of what they are, you treat them like people, whereas they're nothing but a plague on the forest. Were orcs to dissapear from this Plane tomorrow, the world would only become a better place.”

For a moment I saw myself in her. I might have said similar if not for the many orc-blooded I have met, cast out and punished for the accident of their birth just trying desperately to do the right thing in their lives when it would be so much easier to be the monster people like her would make them. I was ashamed and my own faith in telling this story was renewed.

“Then I am an enemy of Doron Amor, councilor,“ I said dismissively, still not lifting from my place of rest, drawing weapon or casting spells, “I will not bend the truth nor be silent for your benefit.”

“I shall hold you to that then,” She glared at me and again accused, “Should you continue to bend the truth, there will be repercussions. Not for the Circle, but for you.”

She made many attempts to goad me into a fight and many thinly veiled threats to my life. She never said it directly however and I supposed that is for her own deniability. I let them slide off me, “You should know I cannot be provoked with such prods. I do not solve things by killing everyone that offends my tender sensibilities. Nor do I leave their bodies to rot on by the road for the trouble.”

She continued to prattle on making the jab, “A fight between us would be over before you could finish warding.”

I shrugged as I would to any petulant child, and let her have it, “Maybe so.”

She could not be content with that victory and added, “After all, from what I've heard, it took little effort for Batibat to best you, and I've kicked that cretin to the dirt more times than she likes to admit.”

“Then you heard wrong,” I shrugged again, “But you may tell it as you wish if you think that will get back at me for telling the truth.”

“That's the difference, between us, Sarisay,” She spat at me again, “I've no need to slander your name, you do that for me already.”

She smiled sweetly and dared me with her eyes to attack her. I again denied her the satisfaction, “That might hurt, if I cared what civilization thought of me.”

“And other druids?” She scoffed, “What will they think when they learn of you helping those who destroy nature. . . And no, I'm not talking about the Orcs. Now, I've a village to tend to, and change to enact. I believe I've made my point clear.”

“As you like I am disinterested in speaking to someone who like the sound of their own voice more anyway,” I stayed beneath the tree to give her no indication that I would rise to fight or follow her.

She clearly wanted the last word, “And, before you go saving any more orcs in the forest, you might want to think about the children whose parents you're condemned to death.”

So I again chose to treat her as I would a child. I let her have her last word and stomp off in her tantrum. That is the whole of it. I want the Enclave to know I have no intention of treating the truth like a dirty secret. For it I may be found with the arrows of Doron Amor in my corpse. I will take measures to secure my resurrection and no member of the enclave is expected to defend me or intercede on my behalf. I will compel you only as I always compel you to act with your best wisdom and do what you feel is right.

-Sarisay

She sat back and wondered at it. The Councillor wielded her people like a weapon. She threatened with the full weight of Doron Amor and Sari had little reason to doubt it. It would be fair for Sari to ask her own people to rise up and defend their archdruid. Fair, however, is not always right. She was no monarch, and would not use the weight of her position to silence or browbeat someone with whom she disagreed. She spoke the truth and that would be all the shielding she required.

She did however, want to know who had said the Councillor summoned that balor and put those words in her mouth... And so she penned notes to all the witnesses whom she knew, to track down this person that would speak lies and put her name to it.

The witnesses were lining up behind Sarisay's account of what happened in the Woods of the Sharp Teeth that day. It seemed no one knew the second elf that she had mistaken for Atria, but they confirmed a second elf was with her. No one was taking credit for accusing Alarielle of summoning the balor, nor had anyone heard such a rumor outside of the accusations levied against Sarisay. Where this rumor came from was proving vexing, and she doubted Alarielle would give up the name of the person that accused Sarisay.

She sat back in the chair, looking up at the ceiling of the cabin until a barking cough rocked her forward. She gagged and opened her eyes to watch dark tendrils, purged from her body, crawl into the ground and disappear. It was almost over. The dreams were less intense, and the purging was happening less often, still her lips twisted into a frustrated and tired frown. Taint in the woods and oceans, werewolves after her family, and vampires erupting from ancient prisons. She had no more time to give this for now.

As she walked to her next duty, she let her mind wander, and that was when it struck her. Who was an elf that admitted relation to Doron Amor, Alarielle, and had been present to hear Sarisay lament the dark events of that day? Her blue eyes blazed, and ran back to the shed to pen a letter to Alarielle. There was, in fact an elf that fit that. One that was looking for a place to call home, had been rejected by the Enclave, and who worshiped a god of conflict.

If Alarielle would at least confirm this person as the source, both of them had been made fools.

Not one lead on the source of this rumor. This mythical person who claimed Sarisay had named Alarielle for summoning a demon. She began to wonder if Alarielle had made it up or exaggerated it to make Sarisay out as more of a villian. After all, one could not make too much of a villian of someone who was merely telling the truth, but slander? That she could use to make Sarisay's opinion less influential. Though in truth, it seemed it had only worked to dissuade the elves of Doron Amor, and then? Only some of them.

That was, however, almost a distant nagging memory, barely worth recalling. The wilds had been calling her. Deeper and deeper. Away from civilized concerns.

She'd given up a piece of her unique life force, which was only useful because of her celestial blood. Her divinity as an aasimar and as a druid was necessary fuel to purify the sea fey guardian and the storm giant that had watched over the precious gem they would end up using to save the life of an ancient green dragon. Her payment was more than something so intangible however... What is life force anyway? She had trained for months and could no longer take the shape of a dragon herself. Only the spell "Shapechange" offered a pale imitation to her once imposing druidic form.

But where something is uprooted, something new may grow.

Her spirituality and desire to be a conduit of the will of the wilds had deepened immensely. She had gained new shapes and certain spells were stronger. She had not been alarmed when her ability to heal had come to rival the strongest clerics of the coast, but. . .

In the heat of battle something deeply feral took root within her. She became wrath, nature's toll on the unfaithful. She pointed at the wounds so far inflicted on the ice giant before her and said, "Suffer."

He screeched and tore at his wounds as they festered and maggots spilled out of them. One of his compatriots thought to stop her and she only touched him and said, "Die."

All of his muscles ceased activity at once and he crumbled into a lifeless heap. Her eyes turned back to the remaining giant who writhed on the ground, howling for mercy. It came as Sarisay shifted into the form of a legendary tiger and tore his throat out.

During the battle she had not even been angry. She had not felt like she was not herself. She had acted on a new instinct that had risen up inside her. As a follower of Silvanus, she strove for balance. In her healing she was nature's boon, in these new destructive powers she was nature's toll. She was mercy and she was wrath... She was...

What am I?

Conflicted. She was conflicted and confused. There was no one to tell her that there was a name to what she was becoming. Of the druids, few were to become dragons. Of the dragon druids, few where to become archdruids. Of the archdruids, a smaller population still would give up a part of their overwhelming power to become something else.

What am I?

So she resolved to step down as archdruid. Little did she know that was oft the path of her kind.

She met Karn not far from the den after having waited half a night at the beach for him. He was sitting, staring at his paws. His ears drooped, his massive shoulders slumped. Sarisay placed a gentle hand on his crown and murmured, "What troubles you of late my cub?"

He had come with her into battle a few times after the new powers arose and frozen up. He'd just stood there, watching her as she ripped through swaths of enemies alone. Since then he had been staring at her for long periods of time, and less interested in coming down to the beach for fishing. She sat across from him and he continued to stare at her. No lazy moans, or snarky grumbles. He just stared.

He would improve with Arturi and Sorcha got home. He was almost himself then, but alone or with her he was like this. She pleaded with him, "If you hear the call of a mate or the wild, please return. I cannot bare to see you like this. What can I do? What do you need?"

It was frustrating and humiliating that even as her powers in nature grew, she could not figure out the needs of her own companion. Of course, he had never needed anything before. She put her arms around him and shoved into him, trying to get him to wrestle with her and he just rolled over onto his side. He lifted a paw and half-heartedly covered her with it, giving a faint grumble. She frowned, untangling herself. Much as she hated to admit that she, a prior archdruid, could not figure it out, she needed help. Something was very wrong.

She went back to the edge of the clearing and drug her stringer of fish over to him. He sniffed at it, giving only light interest, but she knew he would eventually eat. At least his appetite was still present, if not as ravenous. With a heavy sigh she just sat there and watched him for a candlemark as he picked at the fish until they were gone. He licked his chops and went into the den, laying down.

She wanted to believe she was overthinking it. Maybe he was just slowing down for the fall, preparing to hibernate for the winter? Something in her heart told her there was more to this. She'd start with her sisters, then Sane and Arturi, perhaps Emmanuel if he was not busy with his new duties. Karn's change in temperament was more subtle around Arturi and Sorcha, but she was sure the ranger was already becoming keen that things were off.

She took him back to the den, curled up almost on top of him as she had when she was small. She was still a short, stalky thing, and so she doubted her weight would be too much for 1500lbs of bear to take. He seemed to relax almost instantly, giving a content moan before drifting off. She buried her face in his fur, tightening her hands in it with frustration. Why couldn't she understand what was troubling him so?

Sarisay tucked the last bit of cover over the entrance to the den where Karn had lapsed into hibernation with a thoughtful scowl. She splayed her hand against one of the larger stones as her lips pressed into a thin line. Emotion was not something she freely wore, but there was a subtle tension to the druidess as she whispered, "Sleep well cub. May you wake up renewed."

Windrunner, her old roan stallion, stood with his weight shifted off the rear left leg. He was gray lame in that foot, and always took his weight off it when standing to eat. Before him and Arturi's horse was a fresh breakfast of steamed hay and oat bran. Sarisay seemed to think they'd need the extra energy, so some apples and carrots also dotted the gently warmed meal. Windrunner was doing his best to lip through and pick out the treats from the healthier fiber. Most farmers would scoff at the care taken to warm and steam the feed, but it was decidedly free of dust this way and neither horse sneezed or heaved while eating.
Off to the side was a collection of odds and ends that were organized and ready to be packed onto either steed. The smell of breakfast was still in the air, though they'd eaten and set to work. The fire was down to embers, straw had been packed over the gardens to protect them from the winter and the area had been well marked in warning of trespassers. Sarisay had left word and it would be checked regularly in their absence.

Arturi placed a hand upon Sarisay's shoulder. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to. He found himself staring at the entrance cover as if he could see Karn through it. His eyes subtly dropped down to the ground before they closed. He gave a light squeeze to her shoulder before letting go, moving back to check on the horses. Arturi had fetched plenty of water from the stream nearby that morning and would let Patrin and Windrunner drink their fill. He would take some of the dry hay from they had stashed away and rub the horse down as he drank. He didn't look to Sarisay as he spoke evenly, tending to Patrin. "You don't have to come with me, Rymtta."

Her eyes moved to him, traced his face, and drank in his expression even as her own remained blank. She watched him tend the horses and then her eyes widened just a hair at what he said. She didn't bridge the distance between them, but her eyes and expression softened as they were want to do whenever she spoke to the Gurr.

"We are one, husband," She said softly, "Where you go, I go."

She took in a breath and let it out with a puff of her cheeks as she looked back at the entrance. There she added, "Besides, there is naught for me to do here but worry. I may worry anywhere. I would rather worry by your side where we might protect each other."

A chuckle at her own emotional state was given though that emotion only showed in a snarky self-directed smile. Her glowing eyes closed as she looked inward at the softness festering there as it had always been. Denying that weakness in her was less and less possible in the company of her mate.

"How will you hold me when I worry if I am not near?" Another slight, soundless chuckle, came before her eyes opened and moved to him again, "Do you have any idea where to begin?"

He shook with his own silent chuckle as he faced the horse. He didn't even see her do the same. His hand still placed to Patrin's back he turned to face her. His lips pressed into a thin smile and his expression softened slightly.

"Then we will walk this path side by side as always have, eh?" He replied quietly in a tone reserved for her.

Arturi left Patrin and Windrunner to finish eating as he made his way to where their belongings were laid out. While he took a mental inventory of what they had, he continued speaking while he looked over the odds and ends.

"As for a heading of the caravan, I have none admittedly. Menowin sees to it that the route is not discerned in pattern. The caravan is not short on enemies or those who would wish us-...them... an ill fate. But..."

He paused as he turned and made his way to her. As he stepped up close, he looked down upon her as the corner of his mouth twitched upward in something akin to a smirk. "I know someone who might."

He dropped the smirk and spoke evenly, "A man by the name of Gann Iaom. Known to befriend nomadic Gurs, allowing them to weather the winter on his land most commonly, but season has no true bearing to this deed. He bears a... grudge against the Valdaska caravan and keeps up with their whereabouts through the other caravans he deals with, eh? We will seek him and his word."

Slowly, his hand moved forward to find his pinky finger to hers, wrapping around it gently as they had done many times before. He looked down to the pairing as his voice quieted once again.

"Gann... is my mentor. Or was, eh? My friend. Menowin was a father figure, but Gann would have been the father I would have chosen. I um..." He pursed his lips lightly, “I would be false if I hadn't wanted you to meet him.”

He flinched a brief, wan smile that left as soon as it arrived, "He lives alone, left to his life and home outside of Asbravn."

His proximity always had its effect on her. As he moved up close, she became still. Not even the perception of breath could be caught by his keen eyes. Her pupils dilated and when his pinkie twined with hers it was as if the spell was broken. Breath returned, and with it blood flow to her cheeks, which took on the faintest shade of rose. Her pinkie gently squeezed his and her cold, stoic, expression became warm and peaceful. She tensed slowly at the mention of meeting the equivalent of his father. Her eyes bounced a little, side to side in thought before returning to look into his own. Her smile then was odd, and somewhat forced. The slight hitch to her voice might have been imperceptible to anyone but him.

"I am honored," She said and the intonation settled most squarely on the second half, "I hope he will find me suited to you."

Where it anyone else, she might have been convincingly detached but Arturi knew her far too well, "I look forward to meeting him."

She attempted a quick change of subject, "If our leads run dry, I can scry them. It should be a last resort, as it may alert them to the fact that we seek them. Most second-rate sorcerers can detect a scry attempt."

His eyes narrowed lightly at the hesitance, in appraisal to the subtle expression and cues familiar to him. As he searched her expression, his own held a muted reaction hard to place. Was it empathy and understanding? Was it faint amusement? Or was it an epiphany that how far they had come, such a meeting held more weight than he had realized. Perhaps it was none of them. Perhaps it was all of them at once. Regardless of its nature, it was punctuated with a gentle return squeeze of their hooked pinkie fingers and a shadow of a smile, both in unspoken reassurance. He lingered in the look only briefly before his golden yellow eyes trailed off her, tracing the surroundings for something, followed by a light exhale through his nose.

"I'll fetch Sorcha. The time to depart is nearing, eh?" He voiced as he faced the tree line, but his eyes found her in a sideways glance

Her pinkie tightened on his for a fraction of a second before she released it to let him search for their canine daughter. She tucked a lock of dusty blue hair behind her ear as her eyes met his. She made it a point to lock that eye contact for a few breaths before she would look away. Even now she asserted herself in these subtle ways as his equal.

In her way, she was respecting him. She knew that he could see through her and yet she would not cower at the exposure. It was just a fact of their bond that she was bare before him even with all her clothes on, and she faced him without flinching her arms across herself for cover. She knew deep down it was one of the reasons he loved her. Still, those were small details; The small details that covered the bigger moment of them striking out together as they'd always said they would. They went as a family, together to meet whatever needs and fate that were presented. There was no enclave, no friends, no call of a bigger organization. This was them, answering a personal need and acting as one. She nodded in agreement, "Yes, it's time."

She went to Windrunner and dug through some papers, producing a map. Her finger traced a line indicating a trade route., "Shall we stick to the roads? Or cut through the woods we know so well?"

She tapped the Reaching Woods on the map. He lingered in his look and the thoughts that had crossed him as she walked away before placing his finger and thumb to his mouth to let out a whistle that pierced the stillness of the air. He didn't wait for the dalmatian. He knew she would hear it and come without question. Arturi turned from the tree line, making his way over to his mate and the map she held. The ranger stepped behind her, looking over her shoulder in close proximity as he followed her tracing across the parchment. His own hand reached out to confirm the route as he spoke, tracing it with his middle finger much as she had done.
"Through the Reaching Woods will be our swiftest path to Asbravn..." He agreed after she tapped the location. He sniffed once sharply as his own middle finger rested on the Reaching Woods, but his index finger extended to another point on the map simultaneously to point to the West.

"While I place my faith in Gann's knowledge, we may be remiss in forfeiting the information we could glean in Scornubel, eh?" There wasn't a shift in his tone, but in the way she knew him, his breathing altered. It became shallower at the mention of passing through the ever shifting "Caravan City".

She nodded once slowly, "I know it well from my time working as security and navigation for caravans before I was dropped in the Gate without pay."

She was silent a moment, "It’s funny the turns of life, as often as I treaded through that city I never made it to Asbravn."

Her hand slid from Scornubel to Asbravn which looked such a short span on the large map, "I wonder how many times our paths were so closely parallel to have never touched. It seemed like the worst luck... A druidess stranded in a big city like Baldur's Gate, but there I met Merrick and Ronja. My employment with them gave me cause to stay... Just long enough to get tangled."

She moved her hand back to his, twining her fingers with his as the Dalmatian bounded over to them. "And now we set out together. Come... The ferry to Roaringshore, the shore to Soubar, the northern route to Scornubel... Together."

She brought his hand to her lips, placing a small, sweet kiss on the ring that snuggly wrapped his pinkie before letting go of it to make their way. If she'd caught his ill-ease, she said nothing of it.

He blinked with his hand still left in the air from where she had let go. He had lived his life reigning in his emotion in favor of a still mind. He had tried to anyway. And yet this blue-haired druidess had proved to chaotically topple every wall he had built. Sunder that cold armor he had fashioned so as not to get close anyone. In the wake of all that she had destroyed, she had used that armor, the rubble of the walls and framed a path, paved a road, built a bridge with unfathomable foundation. A way that always led to her. As she turned, he voiced in response distant, yet warmly in such thoughts. "Together."

He felt the fur of Sorcha's head rest under his fingertips as it snapped his attention away from Sarisay and looked down to canine, sparing a moment to meet his companion's look, an understanding in the bond they shared that transcended mundane connection. He motioned with his head for Sorcha to follow and made his way to Patrin to begin preparing the horse for the journey ahead. He spared no more looks to Sarisay, no more words. He did however, stop briefly to step to the other side of the horse...and work in silence closer to her, preparing for the road they would take. Together.