30 (or rather... 29) Days of RP - A short look into Adelaide (AOKP)

1) Describe your character’s relationship with their mother or father, or both.

Adelaide gets along well with both of her parents. She was a middle child, second youngest in a family with five children (three older brothers, one older sister, herself, and a younger sister). Because of this, she is sometimes overlooked and passed over, but she tries to not let it get to her. This is easier said than done, though, so she is occasionally irritated at her parents for that. Now that she is out of the house and off in another land, she makes sure to write her parents fairly frequently so that she knows what’s going on back home.

2.) What are your characters most prominent physical features?

Sadly, since it is a LARP character, her most prominent feature in reality is probably also mine, and this I don’t know. I would joke about it being my size, but I honestly have no clue what my most prominent physical feature is.

In my mind’s eye, however, Adelaide looks different, and that version has a sharp, angular face. She has fairly round eyes and a fairly rounded off nose, which only serves to offset the sharp point of her chin. In addition, Adelaide is slight, almost wiry, and doesn’t have nearly as much girth as I do.

3.) Name one scar your character has, and tell us where it came from. If they don’t have any, is there a reason?

Adelaide has a scar on her ankle from a stray arrow. One of her older brothers was practicing his archery as darkness was falling, and she strayed a little too close to the field. The combination could have been deadly, and although she was young when it happened, it is a keen reminder of just how stupid and forgetful she could be.

4.) How vain is your character? Do they find themselves attractive?

Adelaide isn’t vain as much as cocky. She doesn’t find herself super physically attractive. It’s highly doubtful that she even thinks of it. She grew up around boys, and had all older brothers, and had only one sister who was younger than her. As such, she doesn’t really consider herself visually pleasing by any means.

5.) What’s your character’s ranking on the Kinsey Scale?

Something like a three? She’s not averse to relationships with the same gender and even participates with her brothers when they talk about girls, but she doesn’t lean one way or another. As of right now, she’s not looking for anything, romantic or otherwise, so it doesn’t really matter to her.

6.) Describe your character’s happiest memory.

Adelaide has two happiest memories. One is before she joined the Court, during a Yule celebration. It was supposed to be a grand event with all of the family, but before the night arrived, news came saying that most of her family wouldn’t be able to celebrate with her. This saddened her, and she soon resigned herself to spending Yule with her parents alone. Fate decided to work in her favor though, and the day before the celebration her siblings all arrived, extended family in tow. It was one of the best Yule celebrations she could remember, and although she would leave her home soon after, she keeps close to her heart.

The second memory that comes to mind is joining the Court of Light, or rather, soon after that. Although Adelaide had been sent to Caledonia to spy, it was this moment that started the spiral of doubt and hesitation to do the very thing she had been “hired” to do. Court had happened a mere day before, and she had declared that she wished for Eowyn to be her elder. It made sense for many reasons, not the least of which being the fact that Adelaide did also live in Caer Leon. The two of them were out not even a few days later, wandering the market, when a pretty trinket, an amulet that went around one’s neck, caught her eye. She described the symbolism behind the carvings on the amulet, enjoying the meaning as well as the craftsmanship. Adelaide had always been fascinated by hand crafted things, mostly because she had no such talent. No, Adelaide change and manipulate things given to her, but she couldn’t create amazing things out of raw material. She walked away from the necklace with a slight smile and a tiny bit of sorrow. It had been something that Adelaide would have worn, should she have been able to get it. But her family was never the richest of families, and she had money for food and occasionally to fix clothes. The two continued to meander, and eventually went back to Cear Leon. It wasn’t until dinner was served and Adelaide was about to retire for bed that she saw the amulet from the marketplace sitting on her pillow. In her mind, that was when she was really accepted into the circle of companions, and, despite all the hardships that were to come, she was determined to be her best.  I strike this out not because it's no longer a happy memory, but because of retcon stuff. I do want to have it here, but the story behind her amulet is now different. It still marks one of the few memories that she cherishes, however. It was at the most recent Yule celebration (2011 so I know for future reference). The King mentioned something appearing on his desk and handed Adelaide a package. She took it and there was indeed her name on it, written in the flowing script she knew only too well. At first she was afraid to open it, and just looked between the King and the present. Upon being told that it is hers and that she probably should look inside eventually, however, she opened it. Inside was a beautiful necklace with a medallion at the end. Attached to it was a note signed with a simple "E". She stared at the necklace for a good few minutes, not daring to move or speak in case it was all just some sort of illusion. It wasn't, and she didn't hesitate to put it on upon realizing that the gift was, in fact, real. Casimir only confirmed the one thing she already knew: it was from Eowyn. The amulet never leaves her neck save when she sleeps, and even then it stays near her.

7.) Is there one event or happening your character would like to erase from their past? Why?

In all honesty, Adelaide wants to erase the moment she agreed to spy on Eowyn, but at the same time, knows that it would be a stupid idea. Some part of her wants to believe that if she hadn’t taken the job that her elder would be sitting pretty on the throne still, but she knows this isn’t the case. Quite frankly, the only part she really regrets is the fact that she had to report to Eowyn’s mother, but is otherwise quite glad she was there. She just wishes that things could have been different and that she could have been of use. She hates the fact that she can’t actually do anything yet, because she wants to be a guardian and protector and she feels she’s already failed in that.

8.) Day of Favorites! What’s your character’s favorite ice cream flavor? Color? Song? Flower?

Adelaide’s favorite ice cream flavor (if they actually had that in the setting) is vanilla. It’s plain, which is good for her. Her favorite color isn’t black, like she jokes sometimes, but actually deep red/scarlet. Maroon is up on her list too, and is even in her personal Coat of Arms. Her favorite song is actually one she doesn’t know the name of that Casimir has sung in court a few times. Her favorite flower is the Forget-Me-Not.

9.)  Who does your character trust?

In a sense, she trusts everyone in the court, and yet doesn’t trust any of them. Its multiple layers of trust, and although she is sure they would all have her back if needed, Adelaide doesn’t like relying on others. She wouldn’t tell any of them her secrets or anything, but would trust them to help her in battle and to help her learn the ways of Court. She’s slowly growing to trust them more, but for now she keeps herself fairly guarded. The closest thing she has to a confidant is her page sister Coriana and her elder, Eowyn. She’s warming up to Vaelyn as well because of recent events.

10.) Can you define a turning point in your character’s life? Multiples are acceptable.

The first turning point in Adelaide’s life was actually not something she did, but that happened in the family. Her eldest brother decided to join the army, and it was his job to run messages between encampments. It was this that got her interested in both information and the collection and distribution of said information. As she grew older, Adelaide found that although running information was nice, it was the collection of it that she enjoyed more.

The second is the moment Mother Willowstead decided to ask her to spy on Eowyn. Adelaide’s family had been working for the Willowstead family for a while, and (had Eowyn stayed), Adelaide probably would have been set to become the first in another generation of chamber maids for them. Instead, Mother Willowstead seemed to notice Adelaide’s interest in gathering information and decided to put that to good use. Before the New Year, she sent the young girl to Caledonia. This led to another turning point in Adelaide’s life: joining the court of Caledonia and becoming a Companion of the Light. This was something that she hadn’t expected to do, but she doesn’t ever regret it happening.

The last two turning points in her life happened fairly recently, and are not nearly as happy as the previous ones. The first of these is the death of Aeric, which hit the court like a sledgehammer. It was the first time something serious had really happened with her there, since she had to lay low for some time during the summer months, and although she had heard Aeric was sick, his death took the whole court by surprise. The mood was somber, and as Adelaide reflected upon her own emotions, she got the chance to see the moods of others. Others like Sir Vaelyn, who had been Aeric’s younger, or Moira, who had known Aeric for some time. But most importantly, others like her own elder, Queen Eowyn. It was in that moment, surrounded by people she considered friends who were all in various states of anger, sorrow, or a mixture of both, that the weight of her own ideals came crashing down on her. She wanted to protect others, but how do you protect someone from their emotions? How do you comfort someone when you don’t understand their suffering? It was a question she thought about as she attempted to help in some way. She watched as those she considered friends fell apart a little, only to build themselves back up in their own ways. It was insightful to say the least, but even this insight wasn’t enough to prepare her for the last (and most recent) turning point in her life.

Adelaide’s most recent turning point was the disappearance of Eowyn. Upon hearing that she had vanished while in the care of the Green Guard, she was furious. How could they have been so careless? So when she heard the other Companions were going to search, she knew what had to be done. She prepared for a journey, but the events that transpired were things that couldn’t have been prepared for. Eowyn was sleeping, guarded by the Fae themselves. It was certainly a sight to behold. Even speaking to the Queen (or… former Queen) herself was not enough to stop a few bitter thoughts from sneaking past her, although it certainly helped. It was a slight comfort, knowing that something was being done, that it was all for the best in the end. But still, it was a bitter sweet parting, leaving Adelaide feeling a bit sad knowing that her elder would always be just out of her reach, not dead but still not able to be interacted with.

11.) Is there an animal you equate with your character?

I think of a fox, although that’s because I think of a kitsune of Japanese lore. This doesn’t even make sense to me, but I just go with it. A ferret also comes to mind when I think of Adelaide, which does make more sense in my mind.

12.) How is your character with technology? Super savvy, or way behind the times? Letters or email?

Well, considering technology doesn’t really exist in this setting… she sucks with it! But she does like writing, and does know about the most up to date technology for warfare, which does count for something.

13.) What does your character’s bed look like when he/she wakes up? Are the covers off on one side of the bed, are they all curled around a pillow, sprawled everywhere? In what position might they sleep?

Adelaide is used to having a single bedroll to sleep on, usually side by side with quite a few siblings. As such, she is used to sleeping in a tight ball so she can save space. It also helps her keep warm, since whatever blankets she had were usually stolen by her brothers or sister.

14.)  How does your character react to temperature changes such as extreme heat and cold?

Very negatively in both cases, actually. Extreme anything is bad to her, because it requires a sort of finesse that regular weather doesn’t. Heat means sweat, which is never fun, especially growing up surrounded by boys with bad hygiene on the best days. Cold makes her life more difficult because she has to pile on layers, which makes it hard to move. She would rather brave the elements than have on four layers of thick clothing.

15.) Is your character an early morning bird or a night owl?

A little bit of both. The middle of the day is the worst time for Adelaide, and she much prefers the feeling of just waking up at dawn or being out to see all the stars. This is something she carried over from her time as a servant, since those were the two times she had any semblance of free time. The middle of the day was usually busy, full of mundane work.

16.) Are there any blood relatives that your character is particularly close with, besides the immediate ones? Cousins, Uncles, Grandfathers, Aunts, et cetera. Are there any others that your character practically considers a blood relative?

Adelaide always writes to her immediate family, but she has kept some contact with her cousins. They occasionally visit, and she believes that she has an aunt on her father’s side that lives in Warwick, but she isn’t quite sure. Although she isn’t really close to anyone at court yet, she picked Eowyn as her elder not only because of the contract with the Queen’s mother. She does find that she has a bit of similarities to the Queen, although she would never admit such things aloud.

17.) What’s your character’s desk/workspace look like? Are they neat or messy?

Adelaide’s desk is a sort of organized chaos, piles everywhere but each pile representing its own thing. She can navigate the stacks expertly, and always knows exactly where something goes. It’s a simple oak desk with two drawers: one she stores letters in and one that she keeps locked. That drawer has her keepsakes, such as the necklace she received at Yule (when it's not around her neck) and a hat from her oldest brother that she rarely wears. There are quite a few marks on the desktop from her daggers. Adelaide has a horrid habit of putting her dagger to the desk point down and twirling it.

18.) Is your character a good cook? What’s their favorite recipe, whether they’re good or not? (Microwave mac-and-cheese applies.)

Unfortunately, Adelaide is not a cook yet. However, she does aspire to become a knight of Lucen, so she shall learn to cook eventually!

19.) What’s your character’s preferred means of travel?

Horseback or, failing that, her own two feet. She doesn’t like having other people transport her, and ships make her seasick.

20.) Does your character have any irrational fears?

Adelaide fears being found useless. She is worried that if she can’t do anything, people will push her to the wayside, just as they have for so long. She was a middle child, and although she loves all her siblings, she does resent being constantly passed by. She also fears being left in the shadows, which is slightly ironic since her dream profession requires hiding. In her mind, there is a difference between blending into the shadows at will and being forced there because others constantly put you there.

21.) What would your character’s cutie mark be?

Right now, Adelaide would be a blank flank because she is a page. She is slowly growing into herself and learning about all her skills. That being said, she would probably have a black cloak or a chess piece or something in that vein.

22.) If your character could time travel, where would they go?

Adelaide would like to witness the killing of Malfitzroy, if only because she has heard many stories about his reign. She knows that he was a tyrant of the worst sorts, but there is some allure to seeing the actual triumph of the Light that she thinks would be fascinating.

23.) Is your character superstitious?

Somewhat. Having now been to Avalon herself, she thinks it’s partially justified. That being said, she doesn’t think something is disproved until there has been concrete evidence one way or another. It goes with the territory, and she has seen enough instances of hasty assumptions to know that it leads to no good.

24.) What might your character’s ideal romantic partner be?

She doesn’t really have one right now. Adelaide is more interested in getting through her page-ship and working on her knighthood requirements than she is with romance. If she had to say something, she’d say someone who could keep up with her in games, although it would mostly be a joke. She does want someone witty and smart, though, so that she can have interesting discussions.

25.) Describe your character’s hands. Are they small, long, calloused, smooth, stubby?

Unfortunately, because of the nature of LARP, Adelaide has my hands when she’s played out. Which is slightly sad, because my image of Adelaide looks somewhat like me but not at all like me at the same time. Her hands would ideally be slim and slender, with long fingers (what I refer to as “pianist’s fingers”). They’d be much more feminine than she would probably like. In reality, I have fairly short stubby hands, with fingers somewhere in-between stubby “gripping fingers” and average size.

26.) Second day of favorites! Favorite comfort food, favorite vice, favorite outfit, favorite hot drink, favorite time of year, and favorite holiday.

Adelaide’s favorite comfort food is actually fey chocolate. It’s a guilty pleasure, since she knows it probably isn’t good, and so she rarely eats it unless it is in court. Her favorite vice is gossip, because she can benefit from it. In terms of the Seven Deadly Sins, it would be pride or avarice, although for knowledge as opposed to gold. Adelaide doesn’t own many clothes, so her favorite outfit is her practical wear: a nice shirt and her brown skirt or pants. Her favorite hot drink is something she couldn’t place that the Caradocs served in Warwick. Her favorite time of year is autumn, and her favorite holiday is Yule because of the celebration and time spent with friends and family.

27.) Pick two songs that describe your character at two different points of their life, and explain why you chose them.

(Present Day) Fighting for Nothing –Meg & Dia

This song wasn’t even in my mind until it came on my shuffle. The lyrics are beautiful and really portray the feelings. The chorus is exactly what Adelaide needs to hear, and even already knows, but is too afraid to admit: “But these things take time, love. These things take backbone. And they’ll tell you what you want to hear ‘cause they think it’s better. But you better know how to point out the liars. You’ve got to weigh your wars, make sure you aren’t fighting for nothing.” Later, a bridge gets Adelaide’s personality spot on (ie pissed off Adelaide is dangerous): “I’ve got my words. I hope they hurt you. I hope they scar you. I hope they heal you. I hope they cut you open, make you see you’ve been warring for all the wrong reasons. Make you see that some things are worth bruising for. Make you see that your name is your honor code. Make you see that your hands are accounted for, pick and choose where your sweat and your blood will go. Make you see your life’s not to be lived alone. Run the spit through your hair you’re worth nothing. Nothing.” It’s actually a great sort of anthem for Adelaide.

(Past – death of Aeric & the appearance of Black Mask) Fix You (Glee version) – Coldplay

“Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you.” This song represents a very specific moment in Adelaide’s life. They had just learned that Aeric was dead, and were all going through various degrees of shock and denial when a stranger appeared at court. A stranger that provoked them and prodded them, irritating old wounds and new ones to get a rise. And a rise is exactly what he got. Adelaide was thankful that she wasn’t as close to the situation as she could have been, and although she was at the ready, prepared to fight, she was able to observe as well. Observe things like the cold mask on Vaelyn’s face, or the pained movements of a wounded Casimir. Like the still blank expression on Moira’s face, and the look of pure and utter fury that graced Eowyn at that time. Even companions she didn’t know well, like Marduke and Jassuarnde, seemed to have their emotions on their sleeve this night, and seeing her new found acquaintances (and hopefully friends) like this left Adelaide with a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted to be a guardian, a protector through means other than fighting, but this night held two of her first harsh lessons: you can’t protect everyone, and there are some things you can’t protect others against. So instead, she resigned to attempting to comfort those closest to her, trying to do some good. This song is the exact mood that went through court that night: somber and morose, with a tad bit of hope at the same time. “When you try your best, but you don’t succeed. When you get what you want but not what you need. When you feel so tired but you can’t sleep, stuck in reverse. And the tears come streaming down your face. When you lose something you can’t replace. When you love someone, but it goes to waste. Could it be worse?”

28.) If your character’s life was a genre, what would it be?

Historical Fiction? All joking aside, I feel like suspense actually would fit fairly well. She’s always on edge, waiting for that next “but” to be injected into a sentence or the next twist in the story. Comedy also works well if it’s somewhere between light hearted and dark. There are moments it takes a turn for the dark, but it always remains a comedy at the core… LOOK AT THE FUCKING CLOUDS!

29.) How does your character smell? Do they wear perfume or cologne?

Adelaide doesn't really smell... At least, I've never considered it. Because she's most likely to smell like me... I guess it would depend on what I'm wearing. No perfume though. I can't STAND the stuff, so she'd never wear it.

However much you've got on your plate, you're as good as you reciprocate

Floating,cold, why was it so damn cold, and I’m falling, why am I falling… Thoughts seemed to run together, and no matter how hard she tried, Bryn couldn’t see a damn thing. She couldn’t focus on anything for too long, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything. It was all so confusing, so out of place, so oddly intoxicating. Because she didn’t have to do anything, be anything, feel anything. She could just exist, or not exist, or something in-between those things. She didn’t have to shoot things or run after things or fight things. Except something was nagging at her, something in the back of her head saying that she had things to do, and places to see, and people to (irritate) help. And, as if in tune with her thoughts, something appeared in the distance. A light, a piercing, warm light. Bryn couldn’t help but flinch at first. It was cold, so cold, so dark, and the light was so bright, so warm. It hurt, everything hurt, and suddenly she could feel again, why could she feel again? She opened her mouth to say something, do something, but nothing came out and she screamed silence as the bright white light filled her vision…

Bryn opened her eyes slowly, not daring to look at any particular object. Focusing on something took too much effort right now, and although she wanted to try to sit up or do something, everything ached. Her eyes glowed an eerie bloody red-orange, a color normally reserved for when she was beyond angry. Upon hearing the news of Burningwood’s escape, they shone with even greater vigor. And as Stalar left her alone in the room, she didn’t even bother to reign in her emotions. Not that it mattered. She was still too sore to actually do anything. But in the following days, once she was recovered, her room was left in tatters. The archery targets were torn, and many sparring dummies had dagger wounds riddling them.

Speaking wasn’t essential, that much was something Bryn found out first hand. She let her eyes and her actions do most of the talking, and when she needed words, she wrote. But usually her eyes were enough. Because she still didn’t bother to take control of the light emitting from them. There was a blood red tinge to every other shade now, a sign of her undying anger. At the situation, at Burningwood, at her family for kicking her out all those years ago. At everything. But, more often than not, at a target who was there. At Nergal. Bryn did nothing to make his life easier, always keeping at least one eye on him when he was around. She didn’t trust him. Not in the slightest. And she didn’t need to. Because the others were more than happy to do that for her apparently. Her irritation at the situation grew, and eventually she limited herself to a few areas: the market, the barracks, her room, and the library. Because there was still that damn book to translate. And as much as she wanted to do it on her own, she knew she would need Stalar’s help. Not that she’d ask. Not while she was in this mood. Instead she left him the words she had translated (in common of course. She didn’t know any of that fancy elvish script) with a note attached: translate. Not a question, but a command. Granted, one that she knew would probably be done anyway, but that didn’t change a thing. Not really. Nothing that hadn’t been changed anyway.

Thoughts continued to plague her, continued to bounce around whenever she was idle. It was unnerving. Sure, Bryn was used to thinking at all times, at analyzing or joking or doing something, but this... this was different. This was like something else had wormed its way into her brain. Something that whispered dark thoughts as she watched everyone go about their lives. Something that fed on her hatred of Nergal, that told her she had been replaced by the demon-spawn himself. And it irritated her. It pushed at her and pulled her until it was all she thought about when she wasn't already occupied. So, rather than dwell, she occupied herself with fighting, with puzzle solving, with anything to stop the damned thoughts from going again. At least in the eternal silence of death she had been at peace. And, as she sharpened her dagger for another rounds of sparring with dummies, she cursed Stalar from bringing her back, and cursed the gods for the destiny she hadn't had a chance to make for herself, the one that had been picked for her.

... he starts to notice empty bottles of ale

Killian's earliest memories were of flickering lights and of training with a staff. Of running through the forest, sling in one hand and sword across his back. Of his father sitting him down and telling him that he would never be accepted by the clan, but that he loved him all the same and that his mother would always treat him like her own son. That wasn't a surprise. Killian knew that he wasn't like the other halflings. That knowledge had been there for as long as he could remember, and instead of resenting it he just treated it like any other fact. He faced it with a calm stoicism and continued to learn. And learn he did. He studied up on battle tactics and strategies even though he knew that he would never lead the tribe. He scanned religious texts and found himself questioning the very ideas that the group had used as a basis of belief. He read up on philosophies from all over and imparted some of this knowledge onto his siblings. He hoped that Bryn took something away from it all, but he highly doubted it. And Vivian's gazes held a shadow behind them that he didn't dare try to analyze. So he tended to keep to himself, participating in his sister's schemes and trying his best to keep the youngest out of too much trouble. He became a sort of confidant for Bryn, and did his best to stay out of trouble with the elders of the clan. And most importantly, he continued to study and read, amassing knowledge that he tried to pass on to others.

To say that Killian was sad when Bryn left was a vast understatement. He had watched her leave, knowing that he could do nothing more for her. It was something he had been expecting for a while, a kind of feeling he had. She wasn't meant to stay here with the tribe. He could become a wise man for the group, and his sister was destined to become the leader when their parents stepped down, but there was never a spot for young Bryn. And now she could make her own destiny. He smiled a sad smile and let his emotions grip him for a moment before his normal calm demeanor was regained. There was still much to be done and not nearly enough time to do it.

He continued training with a staff, preferring it to other weapons. A staff could kill, yes, but it was a weapon that was not normally used for killing blows, something that could take someone out without the worry of injuries that would kill outright. Besides, people tended to underestimate those wielding weapons that did not seem lethal, something Killian could use to his advantage. And while he continued to learn about other weapons as well, the quarter staff was always the one he would gravitate back to.

It was Killian who first heard of Bryn's adventures years later, and it was him who spread the word, keeping a close eye on his elder sister while doing so. She seemed less than please with the news being spread, and it made him wonder about things. Things like how she had treated them when they were kids. Or how, even with her status among the tribe as its future leader, she never seemed to bother helping anyone else out. Not unless it helped her of course. It was a trend that he had noticed as the years had passed, as he honed his skills in observation. Because he figured that if no one would bother to include him, he wouldn't hold it against them. It had taken him some time to learn, but Killian soon discovered that the tribe was locked in old habits, shunning things that they didn't understand. And Killian just happened to represent things they didn't understand. The emotional attachments that his parents had made with a child that wasn't theirs. The fact that his birth parents had abandoned him in the first place. The stoicism that he treated almost everything with, and the calm smile he put on where the others would become impatient. None of these things fit in with their world, and he was torn between pitying them for it or just shaking it all off.

When Bryn returned to the clan, Killian was happy. It was nice having his little sister back, and although he knew it wouldn't last long, the time they did have was spent celebrating. He didn't want to damper the mood with news of their parents, the event that happened all those years ago. Besides, she'd have heard by now, right? As the years passed on, it seemed more and more like she hadn't heard, and that Vivian wasn't about to tell her. Her reaction when he pulled her aside just proved it to him. He collected some items that he had been saving up and waited for her. It was hours before she moved from the spot he had left her, and although she didn't speak, Killian knew what was going through Bryn's head. Even after all this time he was able to read her like an open book. It was something he was both proud of and also unsure of. Because he didn't want to be able to read her, not now. Not when she was obviously in far more pain than she was willing to let on. It was like reading Vivian, whose dark thoughts tended to play on her face when she wasn't paying attention. It scared him, sometimes, the fact that he had gotten close enough to his sisters to read them like this. But now, it was helpful. It let him know that, no matter what she said or didn't say, Bryn was thankful for his help and the things he was giving her. That was enough for now. As he watched her leave for the second time, a small smile appeared on his face. It didn't last long, though, and for the first time in his memory, Killian felt rage start to build up in him.

The trip back to camp seemed to take even longer than normal. Vivian met him near the edge of camp, false worry playing over her face. "Where were you?" He shook his head, his face contorting in anger.
"You didn't tell her. How long? How long were you planning on hiding it?" His words weren't the rough, barking shout he had expected. Instead they were the cool, sharp edged words of barely contained emotion. He watched his sister's face, watched as shock was replaced by faked confusion. Before she could talk, he held up a hand. "Don't say you don't understand. You know damn well what I'm alluding to."
"She's gone?" The tone of Vivian's voice wasn't that of worry or concern. It only served to fuel the fire.
"She's gone, no thanks to you. You can't just let us have a good thing, can you, Vee? You can't just leave things alone when they're going right?" Killian's hands balled into fists, and he was ready to strike out at something. Not her, never her. But a tree, a rock, something that he could take his frustration out on.
"I didn't... I don't... You don't know what you're talking about, Killian." When Killian looked at his sister's face again, it had set into a stone cold mask of indifference. It was the last straw. He glared at her and roughly shoved past her, ignoring her shout of ire. "Where are you going, Killian?" He stopped, not turning to look at Vivian as he answered.
"I'm leaving. There is no place for me here, so I'm doing what Bryn had the courage to do. I'm going to find a place for myself."

The sun was just showing itself as Killian left the camp. He didn't have much, but it was all essential to him. A crudely drawn map, an old charm Bryn had created for him strung next to the symbol of leadership that Vivian had made for him. His quarterstaff, one that he had trained with for a long time. It wasn't much, but it was important to him all the same. With that thought in mind, Killian set forth, not daring to turn back as he left his old home to find something else. Something better.

She paints her fingers with a close precision...

Vivian looked down at the baby, her face scrunching up in "mock" disgust. "It looks wrinkled and old." Her parents chuckled, and she wasn't quite sure what was so funny, but they were laughing. That had to be a good thing, right? They seemed happy, and at first, she loved it. After all, others happiness was a good thing. Except, she wasn't the cause of it this time. And they kinda stopped paying attention to her, focusing more on the weird baby (Killian, she had to remind herself. His name was Killian) than they were on her. And although she smiled brightly and nodded when asked if she was glad to have a baby brother, inside she was scowling. Inside, the three year old couldn't understand what was so special about the boy. After all, daddy had just found him in the woods a day ago, and he wasn't even really like them. Not a halfling. And although she'd dispel that notion as the boy grew and she started to figure out why they loved him so much, the jealousy never really went away, instead lurking just below the surface. It reared its head from time to time. Like when the other kids got noticed for things that she had started. Or when her parents had another child, and at age six she had a little sister. Again she couldn't fathom it, but this time it was worse. At least Killian had been adopted in a sense. Vivian couldn't wrap her head around why her parents would want another child. After all, they have me. I'll be the leader when they want to stop. They don't need anyone else. And the thought kept bouncing around her head, seeping into her actions around the young girl. The way the three would hatch plans, and it always happened that young Bryn would be the distraction, the bait of sorts. And she always went along with it. Outside, Vee (as her younger siblings called her) just smiled and nodded, appearing to be a happy, bubbly young girl, loved by the whole clan. Inside, however, was a different story. Inside, she cursed every soul searching look Killian gave her, mocked every eager nod that Bryn would do as she explained a plan, cherished every bit of praise that the others gave her.

She was 22 when Bryn left the camp. Part of her was sad to see her sister go, but a tiny part of her loved it. Loved that the attention seeking bitch was finally getting the boot. It was a part of her that she tried to suppress, tried hard to dispel. But it was just as much part of her personality as the facade of happiness. The facade that seemed to follow her everywhere. Things were getting serious, and both her parents were teaching her the things she needed to know for leading the clan. Over the years she had learned some of the many things that had been required as a daughter of the chieftains. It had been rough, learning all the secrets and tricks, but she did it. And she loved it. Knowing that she knew things others didn't was invigorating. It was a thrill, having knowledge and not only being unable to share it, but not wanting to anyway. She enjoyed it. Maybe even far too much. It reminded her of the childhood plots and plans. And while those had been fun, they had been child's play. Nothing compared to what she would have to later. So, while her parents were teaching her the tricks of her soon to be trade, Vivian was looking up other ways to do things. After all, there were always other options. When the trade parties went out, she'd go with and look for information she could use. Slowly but surely, she started to perfect a style unique to her, a mixture of her family's power and her own knowledge.

She should have known that Bryn wouldn't stay gone for long. And even though she had yet to physically return to the group, stories of her adventures slowly started to leak into the clan. People could hardly believe it at first, and that was how Vivian wished it had stayed. But no good thing can last, and so it seemed that her peace ended sooner than she would have liked. If one could call ten or so years "soon." The one good thing that came from an abundance of news was the fact that it was highly unlikely her sister would come back. After all, she was a "grand hero" now. The thought made Vivian smirk. Bryn would never be a hero.

It was five years later, close to Vee's 30th birthday, that the event happened. She had opted to sit out the trip to Evermeet, instead watching over the clan members who wanted to stay. It was a mistake she'd regret for as long as she lived. News of her parents death filled her with rage, but she managed to calm herself. She was the new clan leader, and she had to act like it. It was her actions that saved the clan, her abilities that let them escape harm. And it was her leadership that held them together and kept them safe for years to come. No one had to know that it was also her ears that had heard rumors of what had been happening to non-humans in these parts. Or that it was her own suspicions that kept her in camp that day. And as far as they did know, it was her guilt that caused the dark shadows that flickered behind her eyes, and the almost feral grin that sometimes appeared was just her powers manifesting even while latent. And Vivian was content to keep it that way, even as Bryn returned and became a celebrated hero. No one knew Bryn quite like her and Killian. So no one would think to bring her down with news of her parents. And no one would know that keeping it from her would make the reveal oh so sweet. Because when Killian told Bryn(and he would, she knew that much), the youngest child would blame herself. And then Vivian would be rid of her for good. Or at least for a very long time.

And that was quite alright with her.

He takes a moment to assess the sins they've paid for {the level fives}

Nevah stared at her empty hands, not quite able to believe what she was seeing. Her blade, the one constant in her life (at least... this life), gone in an instant. She felt a surge of rage flow through her, and although it was suppressed with a couple deep breaths, it didn't stop her from expressing a fraction of that anger willingly. Especially not after hearing Respite scream like a baby at the first sign of anything close to danger. And certainly not after he had pushed them well past their breaking point. After he had urged them on even when they had only just managed to fend off the gnolls. Or after a couple of them were badly injured trying to open a door. Or even after being attacked by ghouls. None of them had complained, not really at least. Sure, they grumbled, because that's what they did. But no one had really bothered to step up and demand rest. Until now, that is. All of them were worn, and as the stupid Tiefling urged them on yet again, Nevah could feel something in her snap.

She rarely spoke, that was something that she had made clear to the group. Sure, Nevah spoke when spoken to, and liked to keep things brief (when she wasn't in a chatty mood). But unless it was necessary to get a point across, she prefered to hum, to moan, to groan, to signal. Anything other than use words, because they felt so damn limiting. One could express a myriad of emotions through look and non-verbal sounds, so why limit oneself to words? But in this moment, it seemed that no other way would get through the damn (no longer really a) demon's thick skull. So as he tried to get them pressing forward again, Nevah glared at him and spoke for the first time since leaving the Oasis. "We are resting." It was not a question. It was a command. And when he tried to start speaking again, she held up a hand (a barren hand, lacking the very thing that made her whole). "We are beaten and bruised, bleeding and broken. We. Are. Resting." And as the others settled down to get their first real rest since leaving the tavern for this damned job, Nevah wrote down all that she had seen and heard, capturing emotions both threw crude drawings and halfhearted words. They weren't going to be the best way to capture the feelings she was trying to evoke, but she was a bard without the tools of her trade. This would have to do until she found a replacement. Then she would compose a grand ballad for the group. But until then, they'd have to live with some words scrawled in a leather-bound journal.

But nothing is as bright as the future that's ahead of me

The room around her seemed to steadily pulse just below her senses. She couldn't see so much as feel the steady rhythm of the room, and it unnerved her. Rooms weren't alive, couldn't live and breathe. Yet here they were in a room that seemed to do just that. The chilling miasma that seemed to seep from every part of the room made her shiver, and it took all her might to focus on the man in front of her. Burningwood, the man behind the man. Hell, the man behind every damn thing that they had gone through. Slowly, a new surge of anger started to flow through her, burning away the dread that this place was instilling. He spoke a few words, words that didn't even reach Bryn's ears as she drew back the string of her bow, an arrow of light materializing as she did so. "This is for my family," she muttered as she loosed it. Burning wood managed to easily sidestep it, and with that the real fight started. Her allies all moved in, and although Bryn stayed close enough to see every expression on Burningwood's face, she knew better than to get too close. They had fought before, and if Bryn had learned anything all those years ago, it was that Burningwood always had a trick or two up his sleeve. She could almost feel the echo of pain from her former scar, although the symbol on her hand had long since healed.

Arrow after arrow missed her target, and although her friends were doing a good job holding him off, Bryn felt her self-doubt nagging at her. As she watched Quilli fall, her thoughts became too much. She moved to him, tears steadily falling. This is my fault. I'm useless; I couldn't even help them. It was so comsuming that she almost didn't notice the failt, pearly white glow her tear had taken on, the way her energy seemed to diminish, but also the way Quilli looked as if he hadn't been touched this whole time.

As her friend rose and she continued firing arrows, Bryn's thoughts seemed to grow heavier, physically weighing her down. Each arrow fired, wach easy dodge was met with a new round of mental bombardment. Useless. Worthless. Annoying. A burden. Every new word made her cringe, sometimes visibly. The energy was seeping out of her, and ever so slowly the voice in her head turned from mocking words and became more sinister. They won't even notice if you're gone. They may even celebrate it. Your clan doesn't care. Your friends don't care. No one cares. Eventually, even those shifted. No longer was it you but instead her own voice. I'm not going to be missed... I do nothing but get in the way... I should just die. With that last thought echoing through her head, Bryn notched one last arrow and fired. Her eyes slid closed moments after it hit, and the smallest of smiles slid onto her face. None of her friends were around, none close enough to her her final words as her heart stopped beating.

"Not...completely... useless."

Turn around, bright eyes

Ashley Gardner
I walk along the avenue

I never thought I'd meet a girl like you

First Name: Ashley
Last Name: Gardner
Nationality: American
Spoken Languages: English
Age/Date of Birth: 21 / May 21st

Looks
With auburn hair and tawny eyes

The kind of eyes that hypnotize me through

Eyes: Tawny
Hair: Ashley has straight auburn hair that falls just above her shoulders.
Height: 5'6"
General Appearance: Ashley is a fairly skinny girl. She looks almost frail at times, not at all like someone who belongs behind a drum set. Her arms do show signs of the lifting she has to do on an almost daily basis, but that is the only sign. She is fairly tall, taller than almost everyone else in her band.
Dressing Style: Ashley typically goes more grunge than pop, preferring the ripped jeans and finger less gloves to the bright, shiny materials that infest the pop scene. She'll often dress however her band is when they go on stage.

Personality
I'll fuck you just to make you cry
but a lie + a lie + a lie makes it all just fine

General Character Traits: To say that Ashley is temperamental is putting it mildly. She is easily put into a bad mood, something that she tries to avoid as often as possible. After her turning, this was only made worse, and she finds herself struggling for control more often than not. That's not to say that she can't appear composed. Quite the opposite, in fact. Ashley tends to seem calm on the outside while her rage stews away inside her. Since she was never one to start a fight (not a physical one at least), she normally cools off in the only other ways she knows how: sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Moderation doesn't exist in her vocabulary, which occasionally leads to some problems.

Although she is easily put into bad moods, it is just as easy to put her in a great mood as well. Her emotions swing wildly, and they hop all over the place. Thankfully none of this matters when she drums, but outside of her performances, it is plain to see. Almost anything can trigger a change in mood, from seeing someone from her past, to hearing a song on the radio. It's annoying at the best of times, and can be a real risk in the worst.

Ashley is a drummer, yes, but outside of that she doesn't really do physical things. She much prefers to be in the social scene, schmoozing or sucking up to the big times than she does anything else. While she does have a little classical musical training, most of her play style involves "feeling it out". This lack of physicality hasn't stopped her before though, and indeed, she's quite brave despite being petite. She stands up for her band-mates, and is the first to put herself in danger if one of them is at risk. Instead of using her fists, Ashley uses her words to fight, her sharp tongue  just as important as any sort of weapon. 

Likes:
      Music: Music is a key part of Ashley's life. It's something that, although her parent's disapproved, she always knew she would end up being a part of. It is one of the few things that can calm her down should she get into a poor mood.
      The human body: Ashley has always been fascinated with the human body, especially when used as art. It's always been a facilitator of art, but seeing it used as a canvas is something she enjoys. She doesn't quite know what it is about that, but when she sees something or someone, she gets fixated on it.
Habits/Mannerisms: Ashley isn't the most polite person ever, and it shows. She often forgets to do things like cover her mouth when she yawns, and will talk with food in her mouth. Most of this only happens when she is around people she has known for a while though. She is also often seen twirling something, be it a pen or other writing implement, or a drumstick. 
Strengths: Ashley is a brave, adventurous person. She enjoys doing things, and is willing to put her own neck on the line to do it. She's also very friendly when she's in a good mood, and cares about her friends a lot.
Weaknesses: For as brave as she is, Ashley is also very brash, and sometimes will speak without thinking. This doesn't happen often, but it does tend to happen at the worst times. In addition, she can be fairly selfish, and is often irrationally angry. Although she is confident, this sometimes comes off as being smug or cocky.  Because of what she is, Ashley becomes transfixed when in the presence of something beautiful. In her case, it's normally someone with what she considers a beautiful body.

Personal History

They resigned to what their fate is

But not us, no not us. We're far too young and clever

Bandmates: Karen Hart - Lead Singer Daeva, Lorraine  Singer - Keyboard/Synthesizer Ventrue, Jean Maddox - Guitar Gangrel, Helen Anderson - Bass Guitar Mekhet

Background Story: It wasn't planned, although one doesn't normally plan for things like this. Ashley was out celebrating her 21st birthday the best way she knew how: drinking and watching a local band play at a bar. Sure, she had been drinking long before this, and the band there wasn't killer or anything, but legally being there felt nice. And there was something about the lead singer that captivated her. So, just like every other time they played, Ashley found herself humming along and sipping her beer. Only this time wouldn't end like every other time. When the band had long since finished and people started filtering out, Ashley felt someone sit next to her. It didn't take long for the two to strike up a conversation. The singer introduced herself as Karen. That's where things got hazy.

Ashley rarely drunk herself into a stupor, and the fact that what happened after Karen introduced herself is hazy at best irritates her. It's one of many parts to her past that she can't quite remember, but that particular piece is doubly damning, because that was when she Turned. Details eluded her, and Ashley tried many times to pull things from her sire, but it never happened. She soon moved in with the other band mates, since just about anything was better than living on her own with her new... "condition" to deal with. The others helped her a lot, although they didn't always see eye to eye. This became very clear soon after Ashley was introduced to the wonderful underground world of vampires. It had happened quickly, although this time she remembered every detail.

He had been in an alley way, drunk on something and stumbling around. It was sickening to say the least, seeing him like this. Ashley had sneered at him, almost turning away to do something else when memories came to her. Memories of him hitting on her not ever a week earlier. Of offering to "show her a good time" and making lewd gestures. Surely he hadn't thought much of it then, but now she'd make sure he didn't forget it. A malicious smirk appeared. She'd have fun with this one.

It shouldn't have surprised her that Karen would find out. After all, she seemed to know everything that Ashley did. Sure, the younger Daeva knew enough to look guilty, to play the part. Because if she didn't, Karen would be even more mad, and that was never good. But he had deserved it, that much stayed firmly planted in her mind. She was going to do something anyway, so why couldn't she have a little bit of fun before she did? After all, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, or Ashley a dull girl. 

A mere month after taking up residence with the other girls, Ashley was offered a spot as full time drummer. The old drummer was moving, and Ashley had proven herself multiple times over. She gladly took the position, glad to finally be on stage where she wanted to be. Sure, it was no big time gig, but it was a start. She had been playing music since she was a little girl, and now was her time to shine. Plus it meant the others trusted her enough to offer the spot as well as let her stay with them. Yeah, the place was cramped, and it wasn't in the best part of town, but it was a place to sleep and a crew to hang with. That was good enough for her.

Strut on a line, it's discord and rhyme

It had been a long day, and it wasn't even over yet. "Hey thar, p'rty lady." Emily tried to hide her sneer as she stepped up to the bar, earning the attention of quite a few other people there. Sure, it wasn't the best idea to split up from her pack, and it would earn her more than a little punishment. But they weren't getting anything done, and it wasn't like she was helping anyway. They never let me contribute anyway, she thought, thinking back. How exactly she had come to be the lowest on the ladder was beyond her, and how her few shots at helping always managed to turn into something worse... Maybe it was karma. Maybe she shouldn't have ever left the FBI. At least there she had been someone. An up and coming agent on her way to getting a team all her own. Now what was she? Some Omega out in the middle of god forsaken no where, trying to find some new pack-mates who somehow managed to start off higher on the ladder than she had been given the chance to. And the idiots in here were still trying to pester her.

But maybe she should have paid attention to the pestering, because it was better than the blindside that hit her next. And when she woke up with one hell of a headache the next day, she knew that splitting up with her pack really wasn't the best idea. Trying to escape a week later probably wasn't either. But Emily wasn't really known for her bright ideas. She just tried to get shit done. If that meant breaking out of here her own way and wandering back on her own, so be it.

The bulls are sedated, and this fight's fixed

"So do you understand now?" Bryn continued to avoid Aran's eyes. She had been avoiding them for almost the whole second half of her story, and she knew that he could tell something was off. And it wasn't just her family this time. She actively avoided certain things. Like the confrontation in the ruins. Like her run in with the people of Evermeet. Like the fact that she wasn't nearly as redeemable as he liked to think she was. He was too forgiving, and the more she looked, the more she saw some of her brother in him. And that just made her sad, because she had only come to terms with the fact that she saw some of Killian in Stalar as well. So that made three people she would be letting down: Aran, Stalar, and Killian by proxy. That was why she had left in the first place. So that she would stop letting people down.

Aran's words finally drew her out of her thoughts. "If you want, we could work on decoding the impossible again." His voice was soft, and the hiss of draconic was a comfort. It was so different compared to the harsh sounds of dwarven that she had been listening to. Even common felt weird to her after she spoke for long enough in her friend's native tongue. She nodded slightly, and the papers suddenly appeared in her line of sight.

Maybe it was the fact that she had just relived the last ten years of her life. Maybe it was the fact that friends were on the mind, or maybe it was the strong drink running through her veins. But something seemed to click, and the symbols on the paper seemed to make sense. Not literally, though. No, they were still just as unreadable as ever. But it dawned on her, the missing piece. "This is a code." Aran looked at her like she had lost her mind.
"Yes, we've established that."
"No, no. Like it's not just encoded. It's a code itself. We have the code and not the key. And it's not just that, but the encoding for the code is in another language translated into another language. There's got to be like two other layers of languages on top of whatever it started as. Look, it looks like regular Iokharic script, right? But when translated, it makes no sense, and it seems really... weird, right? Flowy and flowery and shit? I was wondering why that seemed odd. It's because we're translating into common, when it should be elven! Or whatever they write in." Bryn beamed and Aran just continued looking at her as though she had taken one too many blows to the head. She pointed to the other parchment, the one they had written their makeshift translation on. "That right there. I was wondering where it seemed familiar. Try saying it." There was no need, though, because she attempted the very thing a second later. "It's like one of the words my friend used to say. Whatever this was, it was important enough for someone to either learn a bunch of languages to keep it from prying eyes, or they had a lot of people helping. Because no one just knows a lot of languages." Her mind supplied Stalar, but she ignored it and amended her statement. "Most people don't just know a lot of languages. It's not something you really think of." She saw recognition in Aran's eyes as well, and she knew that they had stumbled onto something.
"You're right. But how do we do this then?"
"I got it. But it's gonna take time. And energy. And you're gonna have to trust me. This wedding comes first, because honestly, I'm still really nervous about it. This has been a nice distraction, but now I have to really focus and make sure I don't screw this up." She left out the again. Aran nodded in agreement, and she smiled. Once the wedding was over and the excitement blew over, she'd ask Stalar for help with all of this. He knew a bunch of odd languages, and since one was Elven, she knew that he could help. It was exciting. Almost like stealing and disarming traps. Almost.

Her thoughts were far from the code, however, when the wedding occurred. They stayed off of it when she followed Rockwell to Goldpoint. And it may as well have been in a different plane of existence when they were fighting off the giants during what should have been the honeymoon. What a way to spend a wedding.

I'm a mascot for what you've become. & I love the mayhem more than the love.

She had seen cities before, but Bryn had never seen anything quite like Evermeet. Small, squat taverns sat in between large buildings held together by magic. One building was twenty times taller than her, and she couldn't even see the top if she bent backwards. It was invigorating and dream-crushing at the same time. Just the kind of place she needed.

The people in said city were about as nice as the atmosphere. Most people ran into her and then ran on, not even mumbling an apology. It was as if even that recognition would be a burden to their apparently busy lives. The change of pace threw her off kilter a bit. And it didn't get better as the day slowly shifted into night. The normally stunning display of oranges and pinks that signaled the end of the day were covered by buildings and smoke, the by product of some spell or another. The result was a dreary mix of brown and grey that honestly made Bryn feel depressed and a tad homesick. But she had gone come to the big city for a reason. And experience, but that was looking less important now. No, now she was focused on two things: getting the information she was looking for, and seeing if any of her friends had made it here. If she could find one of them, maybe she could travel with them for a bit. It would make her feel better after having been away for so long. Something in the back of her mind was itching, telling her that there was no way things were finished, that at very least there had to be others like her & Rockwell.

It took her over a month to finish her search. Over a month of stopping in every arcane store, scouring every library and archive, of visiting and talking to every magic and ritual caster she could find. None of them had what she was looking for. There were a few names she hadn't gone over yet, but her hopes were starting to fall. She looked across the counter and listened to yet another shopkeeper drone on about the period it was from, the fact that she shouldn't have things like this, this and that. It was boring. Bryn interrupted him with a sigh and waved her hand. "Look, can you read it or not? Because if you can't read it and tell me what it is, I'd like to know." The shopkeeper scoffed at her.
"Can I read it? This is older than either of us can imagine, and you ask if I can read it. Do you even know what it is you're holding?"
"I'm pretty sure you just lectured me on it for the past ten minutes. Look, I really want to get something to eat. I'm starving and running out of patience. Can. You. Read. It." A beat, then a sigh.
"No. And I don't think you'll find anyone in this city who can. But you might want to try... Here." He scribbled something onto a piece of paper. When he handed it over, Bryn felt a twinge of recognition, but she couldn't place it exactly. She knew the place written down, but didn't know why she knew it. "There's a guy there who may be of more help. He may not be there, but he shouldn't be hard to find. Only arcane user in that or any other nearby village." Bryn thanked him and left, trying to figure out why the name looked so familiar. It wasn't until she was halfway to the town that it hit her like harder than Rockwell's hammer or Emeire's spells. But she continued on. "Well, this is just going to ruin the surprise now, won't it?"

Bryn hadn't stepped foot into Hartshire since... well, since the incident with the robbers. There was no telling how Aran would react, but Bryn was sure it would be just like old times. He'd be patient, understanding, and she'd just sit there and look as though she had been caught sneaking sweets. Again. It had been a common occurrence when she had lived there. Her hand was poised at the knocker, and although she wanted to just get on with it, something stopped her. Her heart was almost certainly racing around her lungs and through her stomach, doing laps that she had long lost count of. She could have thanked the gods that the papers were in her bag, because her hands were sweating and she could have sworn she saw one shake. The great Bryn Swiftrunner, nervous to meet an old friend. It was almost too good, but she couldn't really appreciate the moment right now, seeing as how she was living it. Before she had a change to act, however, the door swung open and a young lady walked into her. "Oh I'm so sorry, I wasn't... Bryn? Wild Woman Bryn? Well, I'll be! You remember me, right? Little Charissa? Probably not, I was only about seven last you saw me. Oh, I'll let you go, but it's good to see you back!" Her words were a jumbled to Bryn's ears, but Bryn somehow managed to separate them from the noises that she was producing to show that she was indeed listening, and did indeed remember. That's when Charissa decided to do something before Bryn could stop her; she turned back toward the inside and yelled for Aran. "You got a visitor, Ar! Little Bryn's back."

Time seemed to slow down as Bryn watched events unfold. She gave Charissa one last hug and wished her and her brother well (apparently he was off adventuring now), and suddenly copper scales filled her vision. "Bryn. It's been a long time." Everything was the same. It was as if Bryn had been transported back over 10 years to when she was still living with her friend. Before she had gone on grand adventures. Before she found and left her clan again, and certainly before she was the mess she was now. Her feet suddenly became very interesting, and she shifted from one to the other with a nervous energy that seemed unsuited to her.
"Um, hi. I got you something. I hope you like it but I can't find anyone to translate it, and that's actually why I was here, and this isn't going as planned at all and I'm sorry but I tried I can't believe it's really you and you aren't mad at me because I'd be mad at me why aren't you mad at me and the town people still remember me this is - " her long winded rant was cut short by deep laughter. It had started as a chuckle somewhere in the middle of her speech and ended up full blown laughter.
"Bryn, slow down. You're going to confuse me more than I already am. I got that this is mine," he motioned to the papers he now held, "and I got that you're nervous. But that's about all I got." Bryn felt herself go red, and just nodded. He gestured inside and the two of them quickly found themselves seated in the kitchen-slash-workshop. "Please, continue. And slowly this time." She repeated all the information, leaving out details such as where she had come from and where the papers had been before finding their way into her possession. In true Aran fashion, he sat through the whole thing and just nodded, listening and apparently deep in thought. The two of them bounced ideas off each other as to what the papers were, and why they had been intact for all these years when they were obviously so old. It was almost just like old times.

It took another two years to get even close to breaking the code that was in the papers. It was odd, because Aran had all but confirmed it to be Dragonborn text, but even then neither of them could understand it. By that time, Bryn had fallen back into the habit of living with another person. She found comfort in the small village, telling stories both to the kids and to the people who were kids when she left, and were now young adults. Some of them even had their own kids, and those were her favorite. It was odd, because seeing them all grown up should have reminded her of her own age, but she didn't really feel any different. Maybe it was because she had spent the time travelling and training. Or maybe it was another perk of Sehanine's grace. She didn't bother to think too much of it though. By the time they had made any progress on the papers, she was more worried about other matters.
"Aran, what do I do? What do you even wear to a wedding? A DWARVEN wedding! How in the gods name am I supposed to know what to wear to a DWARVEN WEDDING?" Bryn paced about nervously, not wanting to screw this up for her friend. Sure, they hadn't seen each other in ten years. But that didn't change what they had all gone through together, and it didn't change the fact that she considered Rockwell one of her closest companions. Same with everyone she had traveled with. Aran chuckled at her antics.
"Well, you could research it a little. The wedding isn't for another few months, Bryn. You have time. Plenty of time to figure out what you're going to wear, and what you're going to do. And I'll work on the scroll." Bryn whipped around faster than either of them thought was possible, and for a second she was worried about whiplash. But only a second.
"Oh no," she growled, sending a glare at the still chuckling Dragonborn. "If I have to suffer through this, so do you. How amusing do you find it now." An eyebrow ridge quirked up and she smirked in response. They spoke with their actions, and finally she won, earning a sigh from the older dragon. "I suggest you find something to wear too. Nice robes or something. The journey to Stonehaven from here is a good month if we're lucky, so that leaves us just a couple months to figure this out before we have to prepare and leave." Her friend just nodded, and as he stood to leave, hesitated. What Bryn often called "the look" passed over his face. It was that look he got when he wanted to say something but thought better of it. It was a look she had seen on others before too, but it would always be his look first, and Bryn was glad when he let it go and left the room. She sunk into a chair and sighed. It wouldn't be long before he asked about her adventures. He had probably heard stories from the townsfolk, but that wouldn't be enough. That much she knew. Aran was inquisitive, he loved asking questions and finding answers. It would only be a matter of time before he decided to ask her about her own past. And although she didn't mind telling him, Bryn didn't think she could handle reliving all of that right now. It would more likely break her than help her.

The two of them skirted around the issue for the remainder of their time together in Hartshire, and continued to do so during the journey to Stonehaven. The question of just when he would ask haunted Bryn for the next few months, and when he finally cornered her in a Stonehaven tavern, she had already resigned herself to her fate.

Just because I'm losing, doesn't mean I'm lost

It was hot out, that was the first thing she noticed. And not just the normal heat. After all, she was in the desert. Hot was normal.

It had been two years since she left her clan again, but Bryn was gone. She had traveled around a bit, undergoing her own form of "training" as she called it. There had been jokes about her recklessness leading to setting off traps in a very... unusual manner. But her skill was there. Now she just had to work on finding the traps, and learning more wouldn't hurt too much either. So that's exactly what she had started doing. She started in Southvale, making sure to stop and say hi to old friends before moving on. After that, a quick romp through elven territory nearby and off to the desert she went. The Greysand Oasis was where she currently resided, and it really earned its name. Maybe it was minerals in the water, or maybe some sort of magic was at play, but the sand was always ash grey. Not that Bryn bothered enough to actually look up why it was that way. She just went with it. Because that wasn't why she was here. No, she was here for the ruins. Just outside the oasis city is where the real fun was. Some of the ruins had been cleared long ago, little more than tourist attractions meant to draw in trade and commerce. A little further out is where the treasure was, and with it, traps. Lots and lots of traps.

She really should have payed more attention to where she was going though. Maybe researched a little into Dragonborn architecture, since they were the ruins of an ancient Dragonborn civilization. The part of her that missed her companions told her that Aran would have been a valuable asset, but she ignored it. Just like she ignored it when the gang had split up, and when she had left her family for a second time. She was good at that. But no, instead she was here, pinned to a wall, trying to figure out if the hallway in front of her would have blades or arrows. Her gut said blades, but only because she knew Leonidas liked them. For all she knew, they liked neither and acid would spew out at her when she tried to walk. Bryn shuddered at the thought and tried to find the trigger. Keyword: tried. Before she had a chance to actually do anything, some halfwit looking for treasure tried to walk down the path. She blocked him, giving him a sturdy glare. "There's a trap. So unless you want to be mince meat, you'll stay put for a second, sparky." The traveler (a human) just laughed at her and tried to continue on. Her eyes flashed once in irritation before she reigned it in. In the blink of an eye, her dagger was out and pinning his shirt to the limestone walls.
"Who do you think you are? I would like to go down here, and no matter how cute you are, pint-sized, you won't stop me." Again her eyes flashed. This guy was trying her nerves, and she had half a mind to let him just trigger the trap for her. It would certainly make life easier. But instead she held up a finger and threw one of her coins onto the trigger stone. Just as she had hoped, it was heavy enough, and arrows started shooting through holes in the walls. The human just watched, wide eyed as puffs of air disturbed his bangs. As the arrows died down, Bryn pried her dagger loose with a smirk.
"That's why I was stopping you. But if you'd like to continue, than please do. By all means, I'm no longer stopping you. But at least let me finish my work, alright?" She ignored his comments, her mind slipping into diagrams and tools. She knew the stone was the trigger, but she couldn't figure out quite how it would reload. There had to be at least another trigger, because the stone she had thrown her coin onto was still tripped. Finally her guest's words reached her.
"The off colored stones. But that doesn't stop the actual arrows." Her eyebrows shot up at his comment, and she could have smacked herself for not realizing it earlier. The off-color stones were the safe stones, something for someone who needed to get by but didn't want to fully disarm the trap. With careful precision and practiced ease, Bryn hopped from stone to stone until she reached the other end of the trap. Or at least, what she hoped was the other end of the trap. It had something for her to do, and that was enough.

The nice things about ruins was that they tended to be falling apart. This one was no exception. Large portions of the walls had holes, and she was staring into one now. Only, instead of more chambers like most of the holes had, this one was full of firing mechanisms for the arrows. "Why, hello there. Let's just have a look see," she murmured, and her hands went to work. A few minutes (and annoying shouts from her guest) later, the trap was done. She had managed to disarm it without setting it off. Well, without setting it off on accident (she wouldn't count the coin thing.) "It's safe. Keep the coin, maybe it'll bring you luck. You're gonna need it if you keep blundering forward like that." He looked less than impressed.
"I would have been fine, I'm sure. Besides, you look like you need it more. Not many halflings decide to wander through ruins on their lonesome. You sure you don't want a little company?" Bryn gave the human a once over, although she already knew her answer.
"Are you kidding? You were about to stumble into a trap, you're wearing leather, so you don't expect anything to go wrong. Either that, or you really can't get much else, because it's always better to be prepared. And you have no clue where you're going, because the treasure rooms aren't this way, but left at the last fork. I know, I looted them. So it seems like you need my help, not the other way around." A sneer managed to find its way onto her face as she spoke, and Bryn couldn't help but let it stay. She didn't let her eyes go haywire, but she was almost certain her body language spoke volumes about her feelings right now. "Now one of two things can happen: I can let you go now and we forget you ever stumbled across me, or you keep running that mouth of yours and I find a trap that hasn't been triggered or disarmed to shove you into. Because you're testing what little patience I have left. I have been in these damn ruins for the last two days for training, I have had next to no sleep, I want real food not rations, and I'm sick of all this damn sand," she ended, her words coming out more like snarls. She just wanted peace and quiet to do her thing, to look around and maybe find some cool stuff that she could actually use. He was having none of it though, opting instead to be offended by her words.
"Excuse me? I must have you know, even leather is extremely hot in this weather, and full armor would be worse. You're in leather and you seem to be just fine. And who says I'm looking for treasure. How can I even know you actually did what you said. Two days? For 'training'? I think you're full of Minotaur shit and just won't accept it. Who do you think you are, pretending to play the lone adventurer?" His words piled up on Bryn, and she could feel herself snap. It had been four days (two in the ruins and two for travel), she had been plagued with nightmares (which was currently normal) and thus had no sleep, the rations sucked and she wanted real food, sand was getting in her boots, and worst of all she had to deal with this asshole. Her eyes didn't glow with their normal vigor, instead casting an almost eerie, blood red light just in front of her face, illuminating what little bit was in shadow. Ire and some irrational rage seared through her, and before she quite had time to process it, her dagger was back out and pointed.
"Who do I think I am? You really want to ask that? I think I'm the one who's faced down countless creatures you've only seen in your nightmares. I think I'm the only one of us here who's looked death in the eye and lived to tell the tale. I think I'm the one who's been in this desert for a god's damned week prepping in the heat before I even touched these god's forsaken ruins. And I think that, of the two people here, I'm the one who has the map. You know, the one from the archives in the city? No, you wouldn't. Because no one goes to the damn archives. How do I know? Because if they had, they would have known I have the only copy of said map." She left out the part about stealing it, because the nice people in the building hadn't wanted to let her make a copy. That was better left unsaid. "So I think you'd best turn around and walk home, green stalk. Because I think you're out of your league." Before Bryn could do much else, her feet were walking away, through the hallway, past the (now disarmed) arrow trap, and to the next area.

It was a good hour before she calmed down even a little bit. Thankfully there weren't any living things she could take it out on. Well, unless reanimated skeletons could be counted as living, but she didn't count them. Finally she found what she had come there for (besides the traps, that is). In one of the far corners of the ruins there had been an archive, or a library of some sort. And even though she hadn't seen him since before her adventures, somehow Bryn knew that if she could get one of these books for Aran, he'd be grateful. Not that she cared. No, she just wanted to do something for an old friend. He had been on her mind a lot recently, and had their last encounter not ended... well, she just was hesitant to go back. Maybe she'd leave it on his doorstep with a note. And maybe the gods would take pity on her and the earth would swallow her whole before that actually happened. Either way, she found a room that seemed to be mostly intact, and they appeared to be the right area according to the map. Quickly taking whatever was still intact after all these years, Bryn set up the instant camp and called it a night.

For the first time in two years, Bryn didn't see the faces of her family in her dreams, wasn't haunted by the derisive laughter of fate, couldn't feel the pitying stares of her former friends and companions. Instead she slept more soundly than she had in a very long time.

He's got inside my head, got hold of my hand

"Is everything alright?" Bryn blinked and the forest was gone, replaced by dwarves drinking their ale and a worried dragonborn to her left. Well, she knew he looked worried at least. She had long gotten used to his eyebrow ridge things.
"Yeah. Sorry, I lost myself for a moment there." She almost decided to drop it, to not continue the story any further. Aran was looking at her like she would break, and it was starting to annoy her. Not that she would let him know that. "Look, it was nothing, alright. I met up with my family, hung with them for a bit, and left because I wanted to go see more. Nothing big." The look persisted, although it wasn't as strong. That was good at least. She put on a lax smile and tried to convince him. "Really. I'm just being silly and remembering all the good times I had during those five years. It's nothing to worry about, alright?" That seemed to put him at ease.
"If you say so, Bryn. But if there's anything you need," he started, trailing off with another pointed look. The second half was unspoken between them, as it had been when he found her in the woods all those years ago. As it had been when she had managed to find him again.
"I know. Anyway, where was I?"
"Travelling around, something about a desert."
"Oh right! So there I was..."

Please don't forget me. I'm going away.

She left soon after. Killian was waiting for her a little way into the forest. They stared at each other for a minute, neither one wanting to break the silence. Finally, he offered a small smile and a shake of his head.
"Vee will be mad." A nod. "The camp will be disappointed." Another slight nod. "I want you to take this." Bryn was going to nod, but the words sunk in and she just gave her brother a look. "Don't give me that look, Bryn. I want you to have this. And these actually." Her eyes went wide as Killian started taking off his gloves, and had she been in the speaking mood, she would have refused. He just chuckled as he handed them to her. "I know, my favorite set. Take good care of them. I swear, if you lose them, I'm forcing you to make new ones. And here." She almost didn't catch the bright red sticks, although she would have sworn it was because she was still shocked over the gloves. "It doesn't run out, but there are a couple sticks just in case. Don't tell the others, but I've been using them to mark paths through here. It's how I've been able to get us back to camp." Both of them smiled, although with utterly different emotions. One smile was soft, understanding. The other sorrow tinged and slightly apologetic. "There's more in this. Handy items for camp sites and such." He handed over a bundle, and Bryn couldn't help but wonder if he had known she would leave this early all along. "I figured your time here was coming to an end. You never were good at staying in one place, little bird." She scowled as he ruffled her hair one last time, and whispered a quick word of thanks before bolting past him.

Taking the ring of Avandra tied around her neck and bringing it to her lips, Bryn whispered a prayer asking for guidance. There had to be someplace for her to go, even if the way wasn't clear to her now. With that in mind, she started walking.

I used to hear it all so loud, the sound of my heart breaking

The decision to leave Stonehaven was easy. There wasn't anything there for her anymore. She wouldn't go back to stealing from innocent people, and although nobles were usually far from innocent in her eyes, Rockwell wouldn't have been pleased. Besides, dwarves were no fun to steal from. They all had the same traps. Maybe if she could find some elves... But that was beside the point. There was also the fact that the local guard knew her well enough by now that it wasn't really a good idea to stay. And, for all the flack her former companions had given her, she wasn't stupid. Far from it. Sure, she was reckless, and tended to set off more traps than she disarmed, but that was fine by her. Both ways got the job done: no one else got harmed. So it wasn't all that stupid really.

The darkness funneling into the tunnels from outside made it clear what time it was, and Bryn could have laughed. Something about this whole thing reminded her of when she had first left her family. That ring, the one with Avandra's symbol etched onto it, was now around her neck, a piece of leather keeping it in place. The feather was also still on her, wrapped into the handle of her bow. A lot of the trinkets that she had taken managed to stay with her, now that she thought about it. As much as she liked to leave the past there, she also was more sentimental than she really gave herself credit for. With a quick whispered prayer to both Avandra and Sehanine, Bryn started walking into to the night.

She found River's End first. A couple months there got her a pretty penny and more than a few pretty ladies to help her out. Once again Bryn found herself settled in the shit poor part of town. Something about the atmosphere there drew her in. It wasn't that she had no money, quite the opposite. But to see people drinking heavily, laughing and gambling what little they had made... it was intoxicating. People being happy and dirt poor were more fun to be around than stuffy nobles with all their money and angst anyway. Not that common folk and beggars were free from it, but somehow they seemed to let loose more often. At least they did here. For the first time since leaving Stonehaven, Bryn found herself settling into her casual smirks and carefree laughter once again. It seemed like she hadn't freely laughed in far too long, since at least the incident with the drow.

From there it hadn't been too hard to find her old clan. They moved around a lot, but spring time was ideal for selling things in port cities, so they usually drifted there. It was almost surreal to Bryn, how easily she shifted back into nomad mode after so many years in survival mode.The two were connected, sure, but she hadn't really been a nomad in years. Not that it mattered much now. She held her head up high as she entered the temporary camp.

It was different. Normally they had places to stay for the shifting seasons. Spring was normally spent closer to Evermeet, since it was large and tended to have better trade offers than River's End ever did. Plus, they had a permanent fort of sorts there, a place that provided better shelter than the tents that the clan (her clan, she mentally corrected) were currently living in could ever offer. This wasn't normal, and that set Bryn on edge. Still not quite in control, her eyes glowed a faint grey in the low light of the morning. The situation wasn't lost on her in the slightest. How odd, that she had left in the shadow of the night, and now, all these years later, she returned with the first rays of light the sun had to offer. Life certainly had it's ways, and she murmured thanks to Pelor and a quick prayer that her companions (Stalar) were well. No alarms were ringing, and the dead silence was ringing in her ears. She was almost hyper sensitive to noise now, listening for anything at all that would placate her fears. Because even if she hadn't been back to visit, they were still her brothers and sisters, her friends. People she had grown up with. People who threw you out. The thought ran through her head, echoed where there was silence. The sound of arrows being drawn, of leather on leather, brought a sigh of relief to her. Even though she knew that arrows were being aimed at her from almost every direction, this was the clan she knew and had left behind. "It's alright! It's just me guys. Or do you hold grudges that long?" She tried to keep the shake in her voice from showing. It wouldn't due to have them know she was worried. She'd never hear the end of it.

A voice from directly behind her almost caused Bryn to turn on her heels and launch into a hug.
"It's her alright. I'm surprised we didn't smell her a mile off." Instead Bryn just laughed, a quiet but throaty chuckle.
"I love you too Vee." And with that, she did turn around and wrap the older halfling in a hug. Vivian was slightly taller than Bryn was (even if she would never admit it), and as they pulled away from each other, she rested an elbow on the top of Bryn's head, putting a scowl on her face. It was all in good fun though. Her sister turned and made some motions, ones that looked familiar but she couldn't place their meaning.
"So, what a pleasant turn of events! What brings you back to us, Bryn?" Vivian's face held a smile, but Bryn couldn't help but feel like it was off somehow. She hadn't been around her family in a while though, so she just shrugged it off. Not seeing someone for over ten years meant she couldn't judge, could no longer read her sister's face with the startling accuracy that she used to.
"Just in the neighbor hood, and I remembered you guys used to camp around here. Why aren't you using the forts?" A dark shadow passed over Vivian's face, and it surprised the young halfling. Her sister had always been so vocal about not being sad, about how happiness could be found in everything. Sure, Bryn always tried to be cheerful and vivacious, but only because her sister had been first. Just like she learned all her physical skills from her older brother. Sensing that a change of topic was in order, she went to that instead. "Where is Killian? He should have been easy to spot, given how tall he is!" That did the trick. The light returned to her sister's eyes and she giggled.
"He's out hunting today. He's gotten even taller, can you believe it?" A look of false shock was all it took to set both the sisters off in a new round of giggles. Killian was always tall, surprisngly so for a halfling. He was easily four inches taller than their father had been, and that was already quite tall for someone like them. But despite rumors that he wasn't really a halfling, they loved him all the same. He was their older brother, and nothing would change that. Besides, he still had all the skills of a halfling. If it growls like a bear, leaves prints like a bear, and has a coat like a bear, just call it a damn bear. Bryn said as much to her sister, and was pleased to hear a snort in response. "Always the same. Ten years couldn't mellow you out. Let's hope Avandra decided ten years was long enough. Don't want them running you out before the fun starts tonight." At this, Bryn just looked confused. There weren't any holidays coming up, and none of the harvest celebrations were planned. So that only left one thing, something that scared her quite a bit. Her wide eyes seemed to send the wrong message, though. "Yup, we're gonna have a feast to celebrate your return!"

After a long discussion about why that was a bad idea, Bryn resigned. Her sister could be just as stubborn as she was, and Bryn was quite sure that it ran in all of her family. Long-arrow. The name she never got to take. Her sister wondered what name she had picked as a replacement, and found it funny that she took Swift-runner. "You were always first when we held races. I bet that helped you more than once, what with the trouble you've been in?" Bryn just nodded, her eyes just as wide as they had been for the announcement. "Look, how about this. Try it out. See how tonight goes and if it goes well, travel with us again. It'd be nice to have you back, honestly. We miss having the trio. Three's a lucky number for us, and with two, half our schemes didn't work." Bryn thought it over, and just shook her head.
"You're schemes didn't work because you couldn't pull them off without me? Lies. It was because mom and dad were the leaders and let you get away with stuff." Now it was Vivian's turn to feign surprise.
"No such thing! But please? Consider it?" A nod was all it took to set her sister into another round of hugs.

The feast went well, and Bryn would never admit it, but she missed the feeling of family. Of people like her laughing and joking around about the past. Sure, she had felt left out for a few minutes as they told stories that she couldn't relate to. That she would never be able to relate to. But then they had listened to her stories, her grand exaggerations of what had happened with the Beholder, of meeting minotaurs. Of taking on the whole Vorn estate and burning it to the ground. (Obviously she left out any deaths and stretched a few details, but who would notice?) And they had all been more than happy when she announced she'd return for a bit, but that she knew she would have to leave eventually. One of the elders, whose name escaped her now, but she had known it once years ago, said she had a habit of that and habits don't die easy. It rang in her ears and sunk into her head. It wrote itself out behind her closed eyes that night as she tried to sleep, and she could feel it in the sun's dying rays and the moon's normally comforting shine. It hadn't been said in ire or spite. It had been stated like a fact, and had sounded like a word of caution.

Four years passed, and oh how they flew. Bryn felt like a new person. Laughter came easily, and although she never did learn everything that had happened in her time away, she figured it would come in due time. Apparently things had changed more than she had thought. Things like the fact that they no longer traveled as far north, opting to stay to the other directions. Or that they no longer used the forts, but tent cities that would shift a little each day. And the night watches were certainly new, only used before when they were traveling through hostile territory. But every time she tried to casually mention it, something would happen and Bryn would lose focus. Or let it drop. Vivian never reacted well to questions about those things, and it honestly scared her a little how different her sister was like that. So she went to Killian instead. Because after four years, she was going to get some answers. They couldn't keep her out of whatever loop was there for much longer.

"Killian, can we talk?" The two of them were out hunting, although they already had more than enough food for the whole camp between them and the others. He nodded was waved off the others, sending them back to camp.
"What did ya want to say?" He was studying her face, she could tell. Where as their sister was the playful one of the bunch (or so she had thought), Killian had always been studious and serious. That wasn't to say that he had no sense of humor, because that much ran in the family. But he always knew when to just sit down and say things. Bryn couldn't help but wonder if her bluntness came from him, because no one else in their family was quite like that. They liked their barbed jokes, their mean-spirited jabs, but rarely came out and said what was on their mind.
"Why all the changes? Why the night patrols and tents? And where are mother and father?" She saw the slight shake of his head. "Killian, what happened to them? I know Vivian said they left at one point, but -"
"They didn't leave, little bird," he said, cutting her off. A large hand rested on her head, and she pouted a little at the gesture and old nickname. It had been a sign of affection then, but now it only brought back thoughts of leaving, of 'flying away' so to speak. She was so caught up in that, though, his words didn't sink in until he continued. "They were killed. Vivian just can't accept that. You know how she is. They're immortal to her. Always have been, always will be." A sad smile made its way onto his face, and Bryn felt for a seat. This was news to her. After years of thinking up apologies, of wanting to see them, of needing to say a few last words... The air was thick with silence, and Bryn lost track of how long they sat like that. Finally she regained the courage to speak.
"When? How?"
"Five ago. Maybe a little longer." She felt her heart shatter at his words. While she had been going on grand adventures, killing beasts and playing the "honorable thief" in Stonehaven, her parents were killed and the clan was left without a leader. And as she listened to her brother's story of how they had been up in the north, how her parents had been in a hunting party and had come across a group of people, elves mostly. They had traded, but something had gone wrong, and only three of the original six man party made it back to the forts. Packing up had caused them precious time, and they lost a lot of the elders that she remembered from her childhood. Some made it out, but they all watched their backs now, and a lot of them wasted away without their friends and family there. Bryn couldn't imagine why someone would kill others on sight, but images of Burningwood and the drow flashed through her mind at the thought. She doubted it was them, but if there were others like them... it didn't bode well. But that was far in the back of her mind, so far away from her current thoughts that it was more like something from a dream she had once had.

Somewhere in the middle of Killian's story, night's dark hues fell upon them. And dark it was. She didn't, couldn't see any of Sehanine's radiance (goodness, she was sounding like Stalar now), and a quick glance to the sky confirmed that the moon wasn't there. She heard her brother say something, but it didn't register. A shake of her head, and he was on his way back to camp. And so Bryn sat, a stump for her throne as she processed everything that had been told to her. She looked to the sky once again, considering cursing, but she didn't. It wouldn't have been right, because there was nothing that could have been done. She knew this, she knew that the gods couldn't interfere even if they wanted to. But something about the empty slot in the sky where there was normally some sort of light made her feel hollow inside. Maybe it was the fact that it seemed darker than it had been ever before, or maybe it was the senseless deaths of her friends, her clan-mates, her parents. And for the first time she could ever remember, Bryn cried.