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-The golden light was just falling, as the shadow began to over cast the land. Soon those that worked took rest in their safe comfort homes, while others young of heart were just starting their night at 'Ye old Tavern'.-

-The populace usually come in small groups and the lone travelers would come late in the night where things were busy so they would linger not bothered. To enjoy the laughter, sometimes music, or even to gain information out others.-

-The night was moonless when this strange traveler of art arrived, He looked as if he didn't belong his clothes looked high of class but they were filthy with stains here and there, but wasn't too noticeable from the candle light-

((There are some pictures in my Gaia Journal if you want something visual vs the written description in the guild profile.))

Her aim had not been quick enough two days ago, but tonight it had been enough - which was just as well as her employer was not happy about the bird that had been lost during her watch. The grey shadow that had been eluding her finally came back for another meal and gave her opportune time to quietly get within range and send an arrow its way.

After returning the dead lump of a wolf back to the farmer as proof to the done job and then skinning it for extra, the ranger decided to clean up and then celebrate a bit with a drink at the tavern next to the inn she was staying at.

She had already been sitting at the counter when the new fellow had come in and had started setting up some pictures on the table in the corner. For a while, Jay watched half turned in her chair as a few tavern revelers wandered up to look at the wares as other comers and goers stopped to look for a moment as they passed through the doors.

Curiosity getting the better of her in her light-hearted mood, she picked up her mug of ale, carrying it with her as she strolled over to the table. Without a word the ranger glanced over the individuals pictures. Most of them seemed to be of ladies with the looks men would go for, some of them possibly upper class. Then her eyes were drawn back to one piece sitting on the table, the one of the little white dragon, her eyes looking between the shards of eggshell that lay strewn across the fictional floor.

Suddenly her light-hearted mood sunk a little.

"Done with visuals or from the mind?" the ranger asked the man behind, assuming he was the artist, while making a slight motion toward the picture before her.

Looking over the little dragon, she wondered if the one from the hazy egg in the past might have looked like that assuming it had lived to hatch.

"Galanmion," she said as the out-of-place picture was removed. She looked up at the speaker. She too had heard the previous question and had inwardly wondered the same thing, though she certainly hadn't been drunk enough to ask it... at least not yet tonight. But what had come as an answer from the gentleman was rather unusual and not near what she had expected. "The first name comes once I have yours good stranger," she said with no ill will in her voice, but the casual way of her words hinted of a natural cautiousness that had been built in to her ways over time.

A slight confused look appeared on the ranger's face when De'Court explained that it was both of mind and visual, though it was pushed aside momentarily.

"I'm afraid I've seen more rocks, trees, and sky than what's on the table," the ranger said as she hunkered down to look at the portraits in search of this name that was on them... somewhere. It wasn't something she was ashamed of, not knowing much about art. It was just something that was - much like how she wanted to add "dead carcasses" to the list of things she had seen as well, but it felt out of place amidst the art. It amused her (or her lightly intoxicated self), but it probably didn't amuse most others.

"Jay," she said randomly after a moment of pause, forgetting any explanation. Stopped in front of a painting in the middle of the group, she had finally found the man's name jotted in some fashion on the work. She would have had it sooner had she been able to read it on first one she found, but she wasn't going to confess that she had had problems.

"And you would be Micheal De'Court in full then," she said as she brushed off a knee and straightened up, careful not to spill anything from her mug. Staining the pictures would have been one thing, spilling spent coin that she worked hard for was another. "What brings you to this neck of the Boundary then? Wouldn't you have more success with these in some of the larger towns? I'm sure you wouldn't have trouble finding a buyer for works like these with the city strollers in Kas Kain or even maybe some of the barons that live closer to Yvette's Keep."

"Don't mind if I do," she said as she plopped down in the chair and promptly lifted her mug to accept another swallow of ale.

"Not one to stay in one place, eh?" the ranger stated more than asked, taking a moment to get a good look at this De'Court fellow now that he wasn't half hid by a table. There wasn't much to distinguish the fellow amidst the dim firelight other than he really didn't look like a traveling man.

"If you happen to be heading East and haven't stopped there yet, three towns over is Bilidau, a decent little settlement run by a man named Ver Crafton. If you chance meet that only daughter of his and show her a picture or two, I'm sure it wouldn't be long before she runs off to papa to try and get her own. A year ago she had him bothering me to catch her a live rabbit," she said with unhidden disdain.

"...selfish little whelp," she muttered into her mug, muffling the sound as she brought it up for another swig.

"Aside from that random tidbit, where do you originally hail from if not here?" the ranger asked, wanting to know more about the man she was speaking with.



((Aha aha, "being fed by this neck of the area" says the vampire. Was that intentional?))

It was if she threw the man a thistleball to catch, the way he briskly answered. Doubt crept in her mind as to whether the answer had been truthful, but as it bothered him enough to spit out the one word, she took it at face value for the time.

"If you mean my birthing place, it's far West of here in Northern Kas Kain. Unless you've been out that way, it's probably not a town you have heard of," she said, moving the conversation on as De'Court seemed to eager to do. "As for now? Let's say it cycles," she grinned, "but Astergal is one of them for someone like myself." For her, there were many and no answers to that one, though the ranger camp was always somewhere to fall back to even if she hadn't been back that way since she dropped off that egg.

Funny how that should come up again.

"Only stopped here to make a bit of coin myself. One of the villagers had a wolf problem," she said, being a little more open than previous.

"Almost is probably a little short of the truth," she said, thinking back upon her work, past and present. What she hunted was more or less the debatable part.

"You wouldn't be the first I've heard that from," Jay said with a nod about the wolves. "With the cities expanding, unusual as that sounds for the conditions out here, the more cattle and whatnot is needed and raised. The wolves find easy pickings with the farm animals and thus their numbers are going up lately."

Catching him glancing at his art, Jay said, "Not a good night here for you I..."

The ranger's sentence held at a pause for a moment by someone who had just walked in, someone who didn't look too happy.

"...I take it?" she finished as she watched the man walk toward the counter, only to stop at a table where he turned to have a few words with a fellow he recognized.

Jay turned to look back at Michael. "Not keeping me from anything that I know of," she said as she watched him start to put away his works, catching sight of his dragon versions in the pack. While the similarities of the each dragon did not strike her, the odd wings did.

"Your dragon paintings have unusual wings. Are those something you created or are they some odd version of Fallen that exist out there?" she asked, her usual curiosity coming through again. The wings looked similar to that of the Fallen, but didn't have quite the tattered look to them as well as shape. They certainly weren't the wings of the Feathered she'd seen in the past anyways.

"Trouble?" she asked, being a little caught aback by the question, unknowing that out of her sight (but in Michael's) the local man she had been watching earlier was looking her way as his buddy was pointing in her direction. "Villagers think any stranger is trouble by definition honestly," she answered.