vi
The night is crisp and cold and endlessly quiet, as if even the wildlife in the Greenwing has grown silent in respect for the being that crosses beneath its canopies. Above, through the trees, the sky is alive with bands of opalescent splendour, an aurora to rival anything of Safrin's creation. It is this that occupies Vi's gaze as he arrives at the Olson Hunting Lodge. Standing on the porch, the air around him tight and vibrating, as if something ethereal and other has been contained in a shape far too mundane to hold it for long, he waits, leaning against the solid wood."Noah Olson." His name is spoken softly, a summoning in the form of a gentle, outstretched hand, and wherever the Forsaken might be - awake, asleep, at home or elsewhere, he will know where to go. And though the hour is late, time will not march onwards no matter how long it takes for Noah to arrive. Only when he is present will the stars begin to glimmer again, will the trees breathe and the earth sigh its relief.
