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About me: - I barely know how this site works; you're not gonna get any pretty formatting out of me here. - I'm 26; I prefer that my partner is 21+; I'm definitely am not comfortable RPing with anyone too much younger than me. - I've been RPing for...a long time. 10+...

The plank took only some small amount of work to pry lose - nails were haphazardly jammed into slots too loose to hold anything down properly. Evidently, this particular piece of rough wood had been pried up and tacked back down a few times at this point. The space beneath was spacious, if...

Remin had opinions about Sayna's proposed method of teaching children to swim, but saying them aloud would do literally no one any good, and so instead she simply frowned softly at both that and her lack of proper reaction to the news that someone had been badly injured, and a child at that...

The rest of the day went smoothly, especially considering how the morning had gone; the healer didn't have too much specific work for her for the rest of that day, not trusting her yet with the complicated mixtures that he had to make that day. She cut more ingredients small for him, and hung...

It comes as less surprise to Remin than it truly should how little protest she finds within herself at Cyeria's idea. A handful of months ago might be a more complicated story (or would it, considering how easily sneaking around had come to her when she'd had need of it?) but now there's nothing...

Remin frowned softly at the prospect of bringing any of this up with Sayna. They were rather dependent on her at the moment, and if the conversation with Alistair was any indication, any talking they did about this with her wasn't going to go well. But- Remin had work now, and hopefully Ylan's...

"He certainly knows more." She sighs. "But pushing him to talk...I don't know. If we can avoid it, we likely should, but maybe you can do better than I did. I mentioned that we were trying to bring back the people who were lost, or- that it was a possibility, but...It only seemed to scare him...

It was kind of silly how easy it was to drift between sentimental stories of Cyeria's childhood and the real and present threats weighing on the very community those stories had taken place in; there was present danger, and they were discussing baked pumpkin. "I'd rather be killed by your...

A quick glance at the healer - who spared a slightly annoyed-looking glance at the thought of the two of them leaving him to tend to Ylan for even some scrap of time, but lightly waved Remin off with a soft nod - confirmed that yes, fine, she had the time now. She shot him a grateful glance and...

"Only if you intend to fail your attempts to stop the poachers." They shrug, leaning against the tree that they used to pull themselves up off the ground, shoulder pressed heavily against the bark. "They stop taking, we stop taking. We aren't cruel, ghilas'sal, we don't take those who don't wish...

They watch Cyeria quietly, letting her make her arguments and offers without offering much in the way of response. "...I can't make those decisions." They shrug softly, eventually, pulling themselves up to their feet, one long-fingered hand resting against the surface of a tree. "Deal with the...

"I don't know." The fae says, a bit sharply, at Cyeria's questioning of why. "They trap us, they weaken us, and we disappear. And so-- so they take our things, and so we take theirs." It's petty, so clearly, and they cross their arms over their chest. The cloak shifts around them, catching light...

"It matters," The fae says - one last bite of their apple in their mouth, core and all, though the stem tossed away into the mess of bushes and trees. "It matters, because what would you make a trap out of if you're hunting animals? Steel, wouldn't you? A sturdy metal, keeping whatever's trapped...

It was crisp on her tongue, sweet and pleasant and sun-warmed. If she expected anything to happen upon her bite into it, then Cyeria was left disappointed (or, more likely, relieved.) It was just an apple, just as it had been when she'd plucked it from the tree, just as it had been when she'd...

"What'll happen if you do?" The fae presses, an amused expression crossing their face. They took another bite - too large of one, really, the hole they left in the side of the apple gaping, "Well, you'll have an apple in you, and we'll talk. What else do you expect might happen? Do you think I'm...

In the time it took for Cyeria to wander off to the orchard and return with the requested fruit, the fae hasn't seemed to have moved much besides to lounge on the ground, their back against the tree. As she approaches, they watch her, and it's only once she's truly approached do they sit up -...

The mouth twitched into a humorless smile, but again, there's no cruelty there. It's just...there, stretched across their face, communicating something rather impossible to know exactly. If not cruel, then what? Of not pleased, then what? Was it anything at all, or just some mirror of actions...

"You're a mutt," The fae says, but it's rather clearly not meant to be an insult; it's said plainly, as a statement - a simple pointing out of fact. "...But who's mutt?" They ask, stepping closer, and as they do so, the height that they seemed to have on Cyeria shrinks away until they're...

"Hello." The fae answers, the tone the same as Cyeria's - it was honestly difficult to tell if it was mimicry or mockery. They didn't move out from behind the tree, but a thin sharp hand curled around the thick side, digging into the bark. It cracks and crumbles, littering the floor with more...

The shift as Cyeria closed her eyes was minute, and in the first moments, unnoticeable from what was simply the light filtering through her eyelids. It was just...dark and indistinct, as mundane as it'd been in the moments before she'd closed her eyes. Except - then it wasn't, anymore. Even...