Azukai
Zuki
Vinestria
Ashen Knight / Hunter
Temple of Northias, the Sanctuary
Passing glances were the extent of interactions that Vinestria received. Ironically, this made him feel far more comfortable in the ever-growing group. With no pressure to speak, the warden could simply listen and observe from the edges of the makeshift camp; though, he quickly lost interest in a conversation which devolved into dinner logistics. Instead, he began closely examining the mannerisms and features of each arrival. He had full faith that no one here knew who he was, much less had a stake on his life; however, erring on the side of caution was simply the present way of life.
Nonetheless, it was the first time in over a century that he had willingly subjected himself to a gathering of this size. As such, his wary examinations quickly shifted to those of curiosity instead. What caught his eyes the most, were the varying forms of attire that each individual wore. Unlike his rather muted robes from an era long past, modern fashion had seemed to have adopted a far more elegant display. Even those who wore armor felt far more majestic than he ever remembered.
Perhaps they are all rich? Vinestria pondered. It made sense that those with power and influence would have caught the princess's eyes, but if standing was a qualification for the congregation of knights, then why was he here? A question for the princess, if she ever shows her face. He eventually concluded with a shrug of his shoulders.
Overhead, a large shadow blotted the lingering sun and turned his attention away from his thoughts. A shiver ran down his spine. Very little phased him in the current day and age, but seeing one of his kind, hovering above the clearing, was enough to shake his soul. It had to have been at least two centuries since he last laid his eyes upon another Aerouant. He could feel a tear welling in the corner of his eye but swiftly quelled any outward emotions. It was neither the time nor the place.
He did, however, continue to stare--at least until she matched his gaze with a rather soft expression of her own. Unable to control his emotions, Vinestria shifted his head towards the ground to hide the pain and sorrow which marred his expression. It seemed that there was truly no happiness for their kind, as the scars on her body told a story far more tragic than his own.
With his mood somewhat sombered, Vinestria simply stood in silence and watched as the Beastiard prepared the meal. Although he had no intention of partaking in the stew, he was at least happy to see that his offered ingredients were being aptly used.
A small smile returned to his face. We were gathered to bring peace to the land. This is not a day to look to the future, not to the sorrows of the past.
By now, the camp was relatively divided between two groups--those who wished to converse and discuss the current situation, and those who simply wished to remain bystanders to the crowd. Vinestria chose to be one of the latter. With no new information being presented, he saw no reason to join in. There were far too many variables at the current point in time; not to mention the letter had clearly stated that nothing would occur until nightfall. With the sun dipping below the horizon, it was only a matter of time until the festivities were due to begin. Until then, he could entertain himself.
To think another of my kind still lived. Vinestria snuck a glance at the older dragon who had distanced themselves even further than he had. Perhaps, they too are from...? Vinestria's thoughts trailed away into a sudden idea. He swung his knapsack off his shoulders and began rummaging through the contents within. After finding what he was looking for, he took several deep breaths before silently stepping forward. There was another in the vicinity--a strange woman with traits akin to a reptile, who was actively attempting to converse with the dragon.
Vinestria sniffed the air. He recognized the scent of a common medicinal herb wafting from the direction of the woman. Likely an ointment for a minor injury, he concluded upon his arrival. It wasn't his intention to interrupt their conversation or even join in. All he wanted to do was offer the small cookies infused with multi-colored seeds. To the woman, the offering would have likely been exactly as it appeared; a foreign-looking cookie. But to the Aerouant, there was a chance the small treat could be something more--a memory from the past; a chance to relive a certain long-lost treat which had once been favored amongst the Avalonian populace.
[Interactions: Juju November Witch ]
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