Rainforest Cliffs
The rain didn't stop, no matter how far south we went. Even when the terrible forest seemed to meld into an overgrown jungle, the downpour came in sheets, drenching me to my bones, or so I was pretty sure, anyway. Duir was of an equal mind, his dreary gait alongside me indicative of the mood that the weather has put my usually optimistic friend in.
It has to stop soon, I try and console the both of us, but even my mental tone suggests I don't believe a word. Both my ears fall further back than they’re already tilted, in an attempt to keep the rain out. It dampens the sound of the jungle about us, which is frightening, if Duir’s elevating anxiety is any sort of clue.
The distraction of a white figure, then, is obvious and welcome. Pausing to get a better look before we approach, Duir is the first to recognize her, though I stare, aware the stranger is familiar, but unable to place them.
Erthe, he says, his way of naming people peculiar as usual; it's not actually her name, rather pictures of her, flashes and energies that aren’t really words, but ideas, and feelings.
Ugh, is my entirely emotional retort, feeling my shoulder pang in memory of her bow. Still, something nags at me as I look at her, that I’m fortunate to know anyone in this distant world.
Forgive? asks my buck, looking out at her hopefully.
No, I answer, moving towards her regardless. I pause when I’m close enough to chat, but not enough to scare her off - hopefully. I had beat her ass the last we’d seen each other, after all.
”Should have figured you’d have made it through,” I dryly remark, no smile, not a glimmer in my eye, only despondency, a depressing placidness - who I am now, I guess, ”nothing could kill you, I don’t think. What’s with your hair?”
And why do you look like such hot shit? I’d almost asked with wry humor, before I’d really got a look at her. She’d had a kid recently, if her figure was any hint, but I didn’t see one tailing after her. Deciding not to jest in case something terrible had befallen them (she’d shot me for being callous about her loses before, the crazy wench), I still don’t chose the entirely “nice” route either.
[ OOC: phone post :o ]
It has to stop soon, I try and console the both of us, but even my mental tone suggests I don't believe a word. Both my ears fall further back than they’re already tilted, in an attempt to keep the rain out. It dampens the sound of the jungle about us, which is frightening, if Duir’s elevating anxiety is any sort of clue.
The distraction of a white figure, then, is obvious and welcome. Pausing to get a better look before we approach, Duir is the first to recognize her, though I stare, aware the stranger is familiar, but unable to place them.
Erthe, he says, his way of naming people peculiar as usual; it's not actually her name, rather pictures of her, flashes and energies that aren’t really words, but ideas, and feelings.
Ugh, is my entirely emotional retort, feeling my shoulder pang in memory of her bow. Still, something nags at me as I look at her, that I’m fortunate to know anyone in this distant world.
Forgive? asks my buck, looking out at her hopefully.
No, I answer, moving towards her regardless. I pause when I’m close enough to chat, but not enough to scare her off - hopefully. I had beat her ass the last we’d seen each other, after all.
”Should have figured you’d have made it through,” I dryly remark, no smile, not a glimmer in my eye, only despondency, a depressing placidness - who I am now, I guess, ”nothing could kill you, I don’t think. What’s with your hair?”
And why do you look like such hot shit? I’d almost asked with wry humor, before I’d really got a look at her. She’d had a kid recently, if her figure was any hint, but I didn’t see one tailing after her. Deciding not to jest in case something terrible had befallen them (she’d shot me for being callous about her loses before, the crazy wench), I still don’t chose the entirely “nice” route either.
[ OOC: phone post :o ]
