Welcome to Gaia! ::

By now Reyen was leaning against a tree. He had easily walked up to the crowd and done so. It seemed like he wasn't even noticed yet. That was interesting. He always was light on his feet. It was probably because he didn't exactly wear any armor which didn't restrict his movement. They were probably used to the loud sound of metal clashing and weren't yet adapt to hearing small noise. The woman could be excluded, as she was deaf. She used a type of sign language to communicate, Reyen recognized it.

"You are not observant enough." The words echoed throughout Reyen's head. A small smile appeared on his face, obviously none of them were if they hadn't noticed him yet. "Heh. Ironic." Reyen said as he took a seat on the ground and looked up towards the sky. The sun was beginning to fill it with a light.

Now what would he do today? Perhaps train? It seemed like a good idea after seeing the two duke it out with each other. Perhaps he would later on. He'd do it by himself, like he always did. He didn't enjoy being alone but he found ti easier that way. He couldn't exactly just ask anyone. It would be considered rude. He had no idea where any of his friends were anymore. Some of them probably died without his knowing.

The looming war also restricted what he could do. People were becoming more suspicious and rude. It was getting annoying.

Reyen somewhat frowned. "I know I travel a lot, but even to my own kind I am not known? They must be very young." Reyen thought to himself as he pushed himself up. His wings were folded behind his back. They were deceptive. When completely unravelled they're nearly two times the size of a regular Dragon's wings. He sometimes wondered what it meant when they were so much larger but passed it off as nothing.

Reyen walked over to Wyvern. He gave a simple hand gesture and a "Hi". His thoughts were trailing off to the other one. Why was he so silent now? Or maybe the Dragon did recognize him from somewhere and chose not to talk to him? Well, earlier he did say he didn't recognize Reyen. Wyvern certainly did not know who he was.

"My name is Reyen." It was comical how the Dragon was already so full of energy. it reminded Reyen of himself in his younger days. How carefree he used to be. Of course eh still had plenty of energy. As much, if not more than Wyvern. Age tends to give you many experiences and you learn to conserve it. Use little as possible. It was good that Wyvern seemed to be having fun though.

Reyen's thoughts trailed back to Synrai. The guy seemed loss in thought. What he was thinking of intrigued Reyen.

Link stayed silent through the two’s argument; not as if she could speak anyways. She knew better than to interject. They were speaking quickly so it was almost difficult to catch everything, she would lose a word here and there but nothing important. She was so concentrated on the movements of their lips that she didn’t catch the figure standing in the background; something her keen eyes would have otherwise caught.

Only when Synrai’s head turned did she see the dragon there. She wasn’t too worried about him; by his stature he seemed nice enough. Shaking her head at Wyvern’s excitability she folded her arms. Catching his ‘hungry’ comment she gave a silent laugh.

“You and your stomach, Wyvern.” She motioned with a smile, “As invitation, I welcome you to come to my home. It’s not too far off and I can make you something to eat. Plus, you look like you could use a rest and . . .”

Looking to Synrai worriedly she stopped then glanced back to Wyvern.

“And I’m sure your brother could use a moment to . . . you know . . . think.”

With his back towards the summoner and its little pet, Suriken frowned beneath his mask of wrappings, torn between his irritation of being interrupted and the rush of pure spiteful adrenaline that suddenly coursed through what could be called his veins. Turning around slowly he cocked his head in an amused fashion. It delighted him to see this pure world's affect on his own kind. He remembered the vague weakness that had pluaged him when he had first come here and choked back a cackle at the pet fallen's rather violent reaction. He glimpsed the portal closing shut behind the summoner and winced hatefully. He was denied the luxiary of instantaneous travel without the presence of his own summoner but he did not mind. Quick travel was an easy price to pay for relative freedom. A unseen wicked grin slashed across his face at the thought of his imbecil 'Lord Master' who lay.....restrained, in a....well you could call it a safe place.

Refusing the pompus summoner any edge Suriken did not speak, an incredibly dishonorable thing to do, though it was that simple fact that led him to remain quiet. He was not even entirely sure he remembered how to speak. Ah, well it would come back to him. Crossing his arms in front of him he drew his tainted knives in one fluid motion and twirled them in his inhuman way. Keeping his posture slightly forward, almost on the edge of breaking forward though still looking eerily relaxed, he trained his gaze directly on the humanoid's eyes. Yet another disrespect for one of the Wielders. The rush of evil daring pulsing throughout him nearly caused him to quiver in delight.

Axys Mordaen glared into the Fallen's eyes, even as the creature stared into his own. The disrespect meant nothing to him, as it was not his Fallen to control. The summoner vaguely wondered what the Fallen had done with his master. In a way Axys respected the creature. Obviously, he had been clever enough to overcome the impudent fool, despite the dark spells holding him on the material plane. Axys grinned to himself. Either that, or this particular Tainted's master was unbelievably stupid. He surmised that it might have been a combination of both.

No matter what had happened, the Tainted stood before him, twirling his knives. Idly, Axys brandished his staff, flicking it to and fro lazily before whipping it against his forearm. He licked his lips. How he would love to fight this creature; a challenge to his skill at last, for he could see the strength in the Fallen's lithe form. Instinctively, Cerberus backed away. Axys smiled, his green eyes flashing.

"I have spoken with the Dark One," he said, his voice oily, smooth, and calm. "Wouldst thou know what he has commanded?" Perhaps with the right words, Axys could sway this Fallen to his side. Such a creature could be useful.

[I noticed that, in my profile, it stats: "...a dozen hens, three cows, four horses and three cows." Fenrys, could you change one of those to "three pigs", please? sweatdrop Sorry, I guess I rushed because I was excited to try Felda.]

A gentle prodding being administered to her side awakens the groggy girl. Felda creaks open her amber eyes and beholds her grandmother's smiling, wizened face. The older woman knows her granddaughter is awake. With a nod she exits the room to make a warm meal for after Felda dresses. Once Vava is out of the room, the young lady moves out of her bed. Whilst moving she catches a glimpse of her window. Outside it is as dark and ominous as ever. This is as it should be though. A few lanterns light outside roads to the village's center and a few to the four Gates that allow for travel. Those Gates permit trading by adventurers from the villages, those who would risk themselves to go beyond their own walls, slink past the dreaded Centauri and go to the border of the desert in order so that rare plants might be plucked for human use. It has also been rumored that there would be imports of plants coming from Celestir, by powerful mages or so. Humans are skeptical of this though, the only plants that grow on this half of their world are pale, sallow and nearly sickly looking. They still make for great use which is why they are collected. Lazily making her bed, Felda changes out of her long nightgown and donned her green bell dress. The soft, lulling chimes of the bells make her smile. This smile quickly evaporates as her scarred tissue is felt, tightly expanding over her face.
When will I get used to this?
It had been a year since the accident, a whole year. Shouldn't a year be enough to settle down with something? This thought weighs down on her daily, it is yet another thing that would belittle her.

After a warm meal of brown sugar oatmeal and a boiled egg, the girl fastens her cloak around her shoulders and gives her grandmother a hug. Wordlessly she slips an arm under the handle of a basket and takes an offered lantern. The basket contains a small kettle, flint and stone, black herbal tea, a few cubes of sugar, some cheese and a loaf of bread. Although she fears her own Fire, creating fire does not spook her so long as she doesn't do so often. Usually only twice a week can she muster courage to be near a short fire that is not enclosed. Lanterns and torches do not disturb her, thankfully. Felda walks out of the cozy cottage that is her family's. Giving a nod to her parents whom are loading some milk onto a small cart, the young lady makes her way into the sheep barn which is more near than the stables and cows. The sheep bleat and the goat balks, all eager for grazing hours. Reaching her herding staff in her left hand, the shepherdess opens the main inner pen gate and lets them walk out after hooking the lantern on the upward loop of her staff. She walks in the rear with the goat, slowly pushing and guiding them down the damp trail. A few laggers try to nibble at the ever dewy grass, but Felda clucks her tongue and ushers the herd to the main field. In other portions are two other shepherds. However, the neighboring boys, Vernit and Darot, had decided that the shepherdess was too much company to bear because of her scarring. Now the young lady leans back against a cold boulder to watch over her herd. Felda sets down the basket and pulls her hood over her hair to shield herself more against the chill. Perhaps today would be different, as that festival had been. Then again, perhaps it wouldn't.