Nephele
the world will not be destroyed
by those who do evil
by those who do evil
Halo. The place in the North, cold and biting, and yet his hand is warm and rough when she takes it in her own. Her bones may be delicate beneath his, but the strength in his squeeze as he does not shy from it is a gesture that strokes the last few standing hairs at her nape back to smoothness. "What brings you so far from your mountain range?" There is curiosity there in her golden eyes, as there always is.
Whatever it is that has driven him here - or pulled? - she is grateful for the assistance as it's offered. To say Nephele is independent is a vast understatement, as it would be for most any Fae. Still, she is a sharp woman, and the weight of the limb she intends to harvest a problem she had stalwartly told herself was one that could be dealt with when it came to fruition. To head it off at the pass is a relief. "It would make the task much easier," she agrees, unwilling to outright ask the man to utilize his gift. Still it is done, the rustle of undergrowth grabbing her ears once more, revealing a moose that is trailed by another, indomitable and towering but docile in the moment.
Uncertain how long his thrall would last, Nephele lets her wings carry her upward to the listing branch, touching the worn bark with gentle, reverent hands. It is an apology as equally as an expression of gratitude for what this branch will become, what it will help her achieve. Then she begins to saw away at the natural break where damage of some sort had occurred - it sours her insides to think perhaps it was during the battle with Ascended. She toils away, and only when the limb begins to creak and sway does she grab the looped rope from her hip to toss down to Noah after draping it over a stronger main branch. "It is almost time to begin pulling," she calls down, wanting him to be ready for the increase in tension in the rope as it begins to bear the weight of the falling branch.
Whatever it is that has driven him here - or pulled? - she is grateful for the assistance as it's offered. To say Nephele is independent is a vast understatement, as it would be for most any Fae. Still, she is a sharp woman, and the weight of the limb she intends to harvest a problem she had stalwartly told herself was one that could be dealt with when it came to fruition. To head it off at the pass is a relief. "It would make the task much easier," she agrees, unwilling to outright ask the man to utilize his gift. Still it is done, the rustle of undergrowth grabbing her ears once more, revealing a moose that is trailed by another, indomitable and towering but docile in the moment.
Uncertain how long his thrall would last, Nephele lets her wings carry her upward to the listing branch, touching the worn bark with gentle, reverent hands. It is an apology as equally as an expression of gratitude for what this branch will become, what it will help her achieve. Then she begins to saw away at the natural break where damage of some sort had occurred - it sours her insides to think perhaps it was during the battle with Ascended. She toils away, and only when the limb begins to creak and sway does she grab the looped rope from her hip to toss down to Noah after draping it over a stronger main branch. "It is almost time to begin pulling," she calls down, wanting him to be ready for the increase in tension in the rope as it begins to bear the weight of the falling branch.
but by those who watch
without doing anything
without doing anything
