in tenebris est veritas.
Chaele is patient in the quiet. They prefer the sounds of the forest-- the buzzing of insects, the rustle of winds, the meandering waters of the adjacent river-- to the complexity of language and human social structures. The eyes that are locked with theirs contain so many nuances of panic and resentment and perhaps even gratitude; the more they look, the deeper they see. But soon enough the pause breaks, and the shaman sits back.
“I wish nothing of you,” they reply, eyes averting toward their surroundings in an instinct of vigilance. This watering hole is a relief to the weary wanderer, but there are more creatures that wander than this pair of people. “Except perhaps that you learn how to fend for yourself in a place like this, if you insist on living in it.”
This mortal spirit is also aware of the figure they strike, though the skull mask and the dark skirts and the flesh carvings were less an intention to frighten and more a manifestation of their own esoteric rites. It does not matter what this girl thinks of them, only that the forest is protected and the magicks of the world are discovered. Things have not always been this way though. The dark eyes behind the ivory know what it is to slap bare feet to sand, to hear whispers in narrow alleys, to thread seaglass into bracelets and rings.
“I am from Torchline, too. But when I ventured east, I brought food. A flinsteel. Proper boots.”
“I wish nothing of you,” they reply, eyes averting toward their surroundings in an instinct of vigilance. This watering hole is a relief to the weary wanderer, but there are more creatures that wander than this pair of people. “Except perhaps that you learn how to fend for yourself in a place like this, if you insist on living in it.”
This mortal spirit is also aware of the figure they strike, though the skull mask and the dark skirts and the flesh carvings were less an intention to frighten and more a manifestation of their own esoteric rites. It does not matter what this girl thinks of them, only that the forest is protected and the magicks of the world are discovered. Things have not always been this way though. The dark eyes behind the ivory know what it is to slap bare feet to sand, to hear whispers in narrow alleys, to thread seaglass into bracelets and rings.
“I am from Torchline, too. But when I ventured east, I brought food. A flinsteel. Proper boots.”
