Welcome to Gaia! ::

Setting:Farore Province, Lon-lon

The early afternoon sunlight filtered in through the lush forest top, sparkling off airborne motes that dangled and danced about in the crisp fresh air. The small dirt path that wandered its careless, eventual way to Lon-lon lay as it had this morning, last evening, and the morning before, carefully trodden and worn, yet not for a couple of days at least. Travelers to Lon-lon sometimes came this route, being a quiet one, a safe one through the forest, if not always the most direct path.

From a low-hanging branch a small swallow watched the darting dustspecks duck and weave, occasionally adding its own voice to that of the one drifting from nearby. The voice, bouncing along a half-remembered tune, hummed happily out of a small bay of clear glass windows adorning the front of the building that lay along the path. It was a modest building, small to some but big enough, its squat two stories just brushing the lowest boughs of the neighboring trees. The walls were made of simple wood treated to a generous helping of a warm dark brown stain. And above the roomy door, propped open to catch the drifting breeze, rested a sign, lovingly painted and simplistically decorated, proclaiming the presence of the Coming Inn.

Inside Camyr hummed absently to himself. He bustled about wiping the night's dust from cozy scattering of round polished wood tables and their chairs. Idly he mused that this must be a welcome break, for the cloth, from the average barkeep's obligatory incessant duty of scrubbing out a glass' innards and polishing down the counters. An indulgent giggle broke his jumbled melody as he laughed at himself before sitting down. He surveyed the inn, ticking off items from his checklist as his teal eyes swept over them. The wall adjecent the entryway: first came the fireplace, a neat cobblestone rectangle with a large curlycued iron grate, cleaned from the night's fire with a fresh log for later, check; the following wall: outside the window bloomed a garden of simple greens and fruit with a few herbs as well, watered, check: next the long bar wiped down, check, and thelglistening bottles of beverages restocked, check, with the back room and its little kitchen tidied up, check. The tables throughout the large room clean, check, now. And the rooms in the upstairs floor he new were ready as well, their quilts fluffed atop the beds, pillows straight, floors swept.

Looks like he was already done for the day. Well, that's what happened during a quiet stretch like this. But he didn't mind the lack of business much. There were always lulls like this, which honestly came as a nice break sometimes from his usual gentle stream of visitors, either travelers or townsfolk of Lon-lon.

The tune remembered what it had been about as his mind wandered and picked up again, carrying him on until someone stopped by.

A breeze ruffled the trees outside, and Camyr glanced out the window at its prodding. He began thinking that a nice stew sounded welcome for dinner, but it would mean he'd have to start the stewing now. He smiled at the thought of the coming dinner as he approached the window, the better to survey his garden and decide what vegetables he'd need to pick.

He was rather surprised when he saw he wasn't the only one reaping the garden's bounty. Opening the window a little wider, Camyr leaned out to see the girl plucking his crops with eager verve.

"Hello, I'm afraid I'm going to need those later!"

He saw the girl recoil and wave her hands. The guestures meant nothing to him. Her body language shouted frightened, but at least she didn't seem so ready to flee any more.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I don't understand. Why don't you come closer and we'll work something out?"