the druid

Juniper Farheart. 64 years old. Elf. "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by."

[juniperfarheart-blog]

Location: The abandoned suburbs of Dalgren Time: Post heist!  Mission: Assess The Assets.  For: @ophelia-tylieri

She’s a mess of quiet steps and a heavy thudding heartbeat, hummingbird fast against her rib cage. She’d never imagined herself a thief, never imagined that those would be the kind of people she fell in with. Juniper could hardly wrap her head around what the Gambit had pulled off here in Port Dalgren. 

Ophelia is something steady in the corner of her eye. Something bright. Perhaps the only reason that Juniper had agreed to participate in this small part of their quest. The two of them and a handful of potentially dangerous magical objects, stolen things that could kill them at any moment, for all Juniper knew. But it’s a good excuse to spend more time together, to catch an hour or so in the presence of someone she finds...fascinating. A marvel. For a moment, she turns to take Ophelia in full, eyes flicking down to the carefully packed bag of their prizes as half an excuse for it. 

     “So, put a poor girl’s mind at ease. You can tell that none of those things are going to blow us up before we find this wizard, right? Because we might both be strong, but I don’t think either of us would stand up well to some kind of magical bomb.” 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

phoenixashbringer‌:

The exhaustion feels as if it is in his very bones, the pain a searing burn that feels as if it courses through his veins. And it does, the divine energy within him. He can feel the blistered streaks down his cheeks where the radiant light burned from his eyes, can still taste the fire on his tongue. This is why he rarely allows his divine radiance to consume him, this is why he travels around half blind, wearing a mask to keep the energy tamed and focused. Some find it an amusing sight, someone so large wandering around eyes covered, but if they knew the destruction that came without, they might understand better. Still, it is a selfish reason that keeps him from using his nature in most fights, the amount of pain it gives him unbearable, making him feel useless once it’s over for too long. It ends fights nearly too easily, burning anything close enough, and still hurting those at a distance, but the cost feels too high, the risk too great, to himself and his companions. At time he wishes he was not what he was, that his divine mission was just that, and nothing more, not his entire being.

Her voice is a welcomed sound, and he finds himself letting out a relieved sigh at the noice, as far away, as pained as it sounds. She’s alive. She’s alive, and so is he, and the beast is dead. For whatever pain he caused, the divine mission is a success, and the yeti would not longer be able to deal death to unwilling travelers. It takes a long moment before he manages to look around again, to see her sitting there on the ground, face dirtied and bloody, probably by his doing. He looks back in front of him, at the crumpled figure of the creature, covered in ashes, the smell making it even more difficult to keep his stomach.

Again, he wishes it could be easier, wishes that his nature was something simpler, not so destructive to all, but the gods had willed it long before he understood that he was not merely human. Phoenix finally reaches forward and drags his sword back to him, using it to help push himself up to standing slowly, so that he can make his way to the woman.

“I am sorry that I hurt you along with it, but there was no time. I know how terrifying it is to first witness that,” he says finally, voice hoarse, throat burned and blistered. Here she is, offering him aid, when it is clear just how hurt she is herself. He still does not know why Erona Favilla wanted him to save her, but even if it is just because of her nature, he is already glad that he could help give her the chance to continue to live.

It takes longer than he’d like to make it to her, moving slowly, carefully in his pain. He considers, for a moment, pulling the silk scarf back over his eyes, but there is little point now hiding his strange appearance, when she has already seen why it is so. Phoenix stops at her side, and kneels down again. “Do not worry about me; I do not want to take any more of your energy while you’re still hurt. Let me heal you first, then we can see how you feel,” he nods, before tentatively reaching out and putting a hand on her forehead. There was no pain from this, but it took energy he scarcely had left as soft, golden light radiated from his palm, his eyes, as he healed her. 

Its a marvel, how strong he is. This is an image that may be forever etched in her mind. A hero dragging himself up, with only his sword for support. It must be difficult, it must be agony, but he’s doing it regardless. That’s true strength, true bravery. And there are men she’d known for years than she’d grown to respect less than she already respects this man, less than she already trusts him. 

She winces slightly at the sound of his voice, the roughness and pain conveyed through those hoarse syllables. She shakes her head slightly, trying to brush away the apology. “You saved my life.” She reminds him, “A little pain is worth still being here.” He’d called himself terrifying, his power terrifying. Perhaps it was. She’d been so scared in the moment, filled with a certainty that she would burn to death in this cave. “It was ––” but what to say? Beautiful? Almost true, but the terror outweighs it. So she chases that away too, leaving the half finished sentence hang in the air. 

Looking at him is hard. His strange appearance and her own shame at her stupidity making her want to stare at the ground. But she looks –- she won’t be a coward now. She looks at him, and takes him in, and vows to remember all of it. 

She almost flinches away from his touch, scared of being met with more pain. But when the light radiates from him, all she can feel is relief. Golden and soothing, like cool water being poured over her head. A soft gasp, as she feels herself healing from her wounds. She’s never met power like this, like him. She’s a good hand at healing, but she could never do anything close to what he’s doing to her. She doesn’t feel perfect, not mended to the marrow. She’s sure she’ll still ache for weeks from it all, but she won’t die and she can keep moving. 

“Thank you.” She sighs out, a small laugh bubbling up at the joy and relief that floods her. “Thank you, so much. I couldn’t have done this without you.” She swallows, gazing back at him, giving him a smile that she hopes shows him that she’s okay. “It’s odd to think that we could have died here together and we don’t even know each others names.” She reaches up, taking his hand to squeeze it. “I’m Juniper, and I owe you a great deal.” 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

ophelia-tylieri‌:

Another gentle laugh, “I suppose I am, practice makes perfect and all that.” She hesitated, used to just saying a polite, but shallow and unrevealing, amount. With Juniper though, she added a small bit of detail, “Enough time at court and you tend to be repeatedly introduced to the same people, making first meetings unnaturally common.” As for a topic, she jokingly quipped, “I always find politics to be a safe first topic, nothing inflammatory there, especially paired with religious debates.” She shook her head with a fond smile, recalling the time one of the other apprentices in her class got stabbed for saying the wrong political belief to the wrong noble lord. He recovered of course, but never quite lived down the shame. Amateur. “I jest of course, let’s just start with the basics. Where are you from?” Normally, a nice and easy topic to ease further conversation. 

The other woman’s keen observation brought a pleased expression to her face, slightly colored with purposefully subdued pleasure. Possessing any modicum intelligence was the surest way to Ophelia’s heart, “Indeed. Some of it at least.” Hopefully her old teacher would have at least some of runes they originally worked on. Now she had more to compare them to. Curiously, she lightly questioned, “Oh? Time sensitive?” Quickly though, Juniper answered her inquiry. A group of men? There were hundreds of those, “Likely there will be something, whether or not it will fully answer your question I do not know.”

Thinking carefully, she replied, “There is a library that partners with the Conservatory, I can get you access though I promise no results. The far north is a rather unstudied place, but there are those who know of the ancient magic hidden within it.” Her own teacher had done expeditions north, finding the dunamis that she would later come to study there. “If you can find their trail, Bren is a good tracker. They likely would be able to help. In a rare moment of helpfulness, “If you are looking for something specific, I can try and scry them for you.” It wouldn’t be impossible with the eye’s help, just difficult.

Juniper can feel another smile crossing her features at the gentle laughter, musical and sweet, and lets out a bubble of her own laughter at the answer to her question. “Which makes it supremely clear that life at Court would never have suited me. I’m terrible at first impressions, for the most part.” Most of the time, the intricacies of people escaped her. She could find true companionship with the creatures of the forest, with trackers and hunters and people as reclusive as she was. Around a campfire, discussing minor things, she could manage. But with more socially minded people, she usually felt like she was doing the right thing. Except now. Ophelia was...shockingly easy to talk to, it seemed. But maybe that was more because of her practice, as opposed to a newfound skill on Juniper’s part. “I’m from Lolander.” She allows, details catching themselves in her throat. Honesty about things such as this were frowned upon, so she masked it as best she could while still being honest. “Our settlement didn’t have a name, and its gone now.” A sadness touching her voice. 

She gave a nod at the clarification. Time sensitive, though she couldn’t tell how long it would go on for. Her father could likely hold out for months, leading the men who had taken him on a wild goose chase throughout the Fade. She knew he would fight as hard as he could to hide the location of the place they sought, for he hadn’t even revealed that to his daughter. “Anything would be helpful.” She says, a sigh of relief accompanying the words at the thought that she might gain even the smallest grain of help or guidance. “I will owe you a great deal even for just that much help. And of course, I’ll be happy to help you in any way you need, if you do end up coming further north.” 

Her eyes take on a hint of sharpness at the mention of scrying. A talent she doesn’t have, and has never considered. Slowly, she allows herself a small bit more honesty in her words. “Could you scry for a specific person?” She asked, hopefully. That would make things a great deal easier. 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

ophelia-tylieri‌:

Raising a disbelieving eyebrow, “I must admit I am dubious, which I hope you’ll forgive. In my experience most deities stand apathetically away from humanity’s problems, it’s rare to hear of one caring, and rarer yet to hear of one doing anything about it.” While she understood that gods were real, she had seen their power in action, she had no faith in them. She had always been independent to a fault, decidedly declaring that she did not need any guidance from the divine; rather, she was much happier doing it by herself. Phoenix, and maybe even Sylvar, would likely have wildly different views on this than her though.

There was something lovely about the thought, about the way there was some harmonious union between hunter and prey, civilization and nature, but comfort seldom equated truth. Still though, Juniper’s genuine care had Ophelia’s normally argumentative tongue softened and her ears, normally so closed to the opinions of others, listening. The conviction with how Juniper said it had her hesitantly, but almost kindly saying, “But, I understand your point.” If nothing else, she respected Juniper’s belief, even if she did not share it. With a light laugh, she moved on, “Religious debates are a rather happy topic for a first conversation, especially in a festival. I’m sure we could find ourselves something much more amusing to pass the time.”

Approvingly, she nodded, “Practical, I can respect that.” Her mind caught on the word north. That sparked in her mind like a bolt of lightning, bright and sudden. After her discovery with Phoenix in the catacombs, she realized that she would have to make the trek up there herself one day. First though, she had a list of things she needed to do. “I have business up North as well, though I need more information before I make the journey.” This could work to both their advantages, “There is strength in numbers though, so depending on how pressing your issue is and if you are willing to wait, one day we could travel up there together.” That is, if they continued to get along and didn’t interfere with each others’ goals. 

Perhaps she should be put off by the debate. Perhaps she should be uncomfortable with her own beliefs being challenged, even in the smallest of ways. But Juniper finds herself smiling still, in the face of it all. Ophelia was an interesting thing, a beautiful thing in a much quieter way than the dancers above them. Juniper liked the way her mind worked, the slow grace of her words, the light laughter. 

With a nod, and a small bashful laugh of her own, she found herself agreeing. “Yes, you’re right.” Though she finds herself coming face to face with her own uncertainty, unsure what to do in the presence of such a person, unsure of what they could find to speak about, and how she would manage to get through a full conversation without putting her foot in her mouth. “What topics would you suggest for a first meeting, then? You seem quite practiced in the art.” A small joke, a quirk of her lips, hoping that Ophelia will help her along. In the forest, she could talk about the hunt. Talk about setting up camp, talk about the plants she had seen. 

She catches the spark in Ophelia’s eyes at the comment, feels her own chest blossom with an alien hope at the idea that their paths might be leading in the same direction. She thinks she could stomach this for longer, if it was on offer. “Information you hope to find in Lodorwind?” She asks, because there is a sense in that. A place of great knowledge, and a girl with something she wished to learn. She swallows around her thoughts, a breath sighing out. “My mission may be more time sensitive than yours, but I might find some clue in this city of yours as well.” She leans the smallest bit closer, surprised at her own honesty. “There is a group of men I’m tracking, and they seek knowledge of a secret and holy place in the north. Do you think they might find information on something like that in Lodorwind? In one of your libraries?” 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

llyrbxnes‌:

He offers a crooked sort of smile back to her, eyes soft. “Yeah, me too. I had been on my own for years. I only just recently joined up with our lot.” She’s clearly still a little uncomfortable with the idea of it all. He doesn’t blame her, necessarily. He was still sometimes wary himself of the Gambit, of relying on others. Of having others rely on you. “Were you on your own as well?” he asks.

Llyr gives a soft shrug, smile still easy on his face. “I’m sure he was. As much as it was an adjustment, having a party is…nice.” It was nice to lay down to sleep knowing that someone was keeping watch. It was nice to pool coin for a hot meal or a night at an inn. It was nice to know that, if they were caught in a fry, he didn’t only have his own magic at his back. “Are you headed anywhere in particular?”

It was a slight comfort to Juniper, the idea that someone else had recently felt as overwhelmed by all this as she did. Perhaps they were all lost souls, seeking comfort in a world that was too large for them. “Not really.” She admits, gentle. “I had my father, until recently. But it was just us and the trees.” Her voice is slightly rueful, slightly longing. “We liked it best that way.” 

She lets herself relax slightly into the conversation. She does not think this boy will hurt her, and if he tried to she believed she could easily ward him off. “I’m going to the far north. As far as I can get.” A small smile. “I hope to find what I seek there.” And then, allowing herself to be curious, she asks him the question in return. “And you? Do you have a destination in mind?” 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

brenharrowood‌:

A frown, a glance away– she’s hiding something, but it isn’t any of Bren’s business. They’re all hiding something, aren’t they? You didn’t join a group like the Gambit if you had nothing at all to hide, didn’t run away from home to travel the wide expanse of the Fade if you had any other choice. Whatever Juniper’s hiding, it’s her own business; all Bren needs is to be able to keep an eye on her in case things go south. 

     “We’re delivering a letter to a Realmseer at the University,” they answer, matter of fact. Their business is no secret, at least not that part. Bren doesn’t generally talk about their mission openly, but not because it’s a secret; more because they don’t generally talk about anything openly unless forced, preferring to keep to themself. 

They drop their arm to their sides, the closest to a warm gesture they got with any frequency, the closest to approval they generally manage.

     “You’re welcome to stay with us as long as it suits you, and as long as you can live by our code,” they add, and then, reciting the old creed they’d been given when they’d joined so long ago, the one they’d made mention of to every soul who had joined since: “Whatever loot or reward you earn, you share until everyone’s belly is full and everyone has a pillow under their head; past that point, what you earn is yours. Your secrets are yours to do with what you will, but if trouble comes calling from your past and puts the group at risk, you handle it or you leave.”

She can’t help raising her eyebrows at the idea of their quest. Delivering a letter to a university, in a grand city. She would be well out of her element. But then again, they had great knowledge in Lodorwind. Perhaps the men who had her father would venture there, to attempt to gather more knowledge of the holy places on this earth before they began their journey to the true north. 

She gives Bren a nod, and continues to listen to them recite their code. Trying for a small smile, and with a short breath, she nods again. “I have no great wish for riches or treasure. Anything I have is gladly shared.” It seems like the easiest thing to address specifically. “That is a code I can live by.” It was true. It sounded fair enough, and she thought it sounded nice, the idea that these people helped and supported each other in all things, that they put each others safety first. She softens a little bit at the thought, old memories brought to the surface, a longing for home and a family she will never know again. 

“I will strive to help in any way that I can. I owe you all that much at least.” It’s said with a smile, rueful. She would like to try and find a way to repay Phoenix and the Gambit for the rescue, for the kindness they were offering her. 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

khxvakri‌:

Dancing, flying priests. As ridiculous as the concept sounded to him, the sight of the cyclical dance, the movement, the sounds, it was truly magnificent. Priests back in Jörđ focused on meditation, the training of body and mind so seeing religion as a celebration instead of a way of living was, in a way, magical.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one in his thoughts. Juniper was her name. A druid, or so Bren had said. He could see a bit of his own sister in her - eyes filled with wonder, bright smile, kindness exuding from her every pore. They haven’t even talked just yet, and Khovakir already liked her. “They truly are, aren’t they?” he agreed, standing beside her with his imposing size. “Makes you wonder though, why all the priests are so skinny. No chance those scarves would hold up someone like me, or Phoenix for that matter.”

Laughter flows out of her easily, like a song. This strange man, one of her strange new companions, should make her more uncomfortable than the rest. But he has the feeling of the wilds about him, like a place untouched by man in many years. Silly, to compare him to the forest, but something about him sets her more at ease. Though, she supposed she could do with him being a little smaller. 

“I should like to see you both try, and if you failed It would not be the fault of the scarves.” She mused. These things were often stronger than they looked. She imagined that anyone with the right skill could pull it off. Not her, but someone. “Then we could all have a good long laugh at your expense before we set off once again on our journey.” 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

phoenixashbringer‌:

It takes a second for the pain to settle enough that he can see clearly again, vision already blinded enough by the threats of the searing white light at his periphery, begging to be unleashed, to fell the creature in an instant with his radiance. Her voice catches his ears, though and his head jerks around at the sound, and he glances back in time to see her pushing herself up to her feet against the wall. It is impressive, her persistence, if not perhaps foolhardy considering the injury, but it makes him all the more determined to defeat the creature and help her to safety. Anyone who is willing to continue fighting, to continue helping despite their own grave injury has respect in his eyes. 

Perhaps, in that small instant, he sees a glimpse of why his goddess wanted her saved. There is an innate goodness that does not often come from strangers. She cares for her own life, of course, but it seems as though perhaps she cares for his, as well, despite not even knowing his name. She is bound for good, he can see that. And that makes this instant all the more important to him, all the more moving to see her trying to concentrate through the pain. he nods curtly, and turns back to the creature without a word, putting his trust in her as he grips his sword with both hands, in preparation for another attack. It’s something beautiful to see, the vines and plants sprouting through the snow and stone of the cave. If he pauses for a moment, only brought back to attention at the sound of her voice, begging for him to do something now, he would not later admit so.

There are two choices. The first, continue at it with the Oathsword and hope that she can hold the spell long enough for him to down the yeti, which he is not certain she can considering the strain, and the yeti’s strength compared to his own. The second, give into the pull of destruction and fire and unleash the divine energy constantly threatening to devour him, to risk hurting her and certainly hurting himself, but with the guarantee that the creature will not survive. With no time to think, he doesn’t stop to think. Charging forward with a shout, he drives his sword into the creature’s abdomen, fire burning, drawing a cry from the creature, and he stops there, close enough to it that he can feel its fur on his hands. He glances back at her, hesitating for a second. “I swear to you that you will make it from this cave alive, but the pain may get worse before I can heal you. Cover your eyes,” he all but commands. It won’t do much, but he knows how blinding the light is, needs to offer some warning. She’s a distance away, there’s a chance the pain of light may not reach her. He prays to Erona Favilla that is the case, before letting the constant tension fall from his shoulders, giving over to Her, allowing his nature to take over. 

It’s a strange feeling at first always, as if he’s not of himself any longer. The smell of burning, the taste of ash, and then the white light takes over so that he can see nothing but searing brightness, taste nothing but burning, the divine energy unleashed. There is no control over it, no way to even wonder, as the pain grips his own body, the burning starting low within his stomach, flowing upward, feels as if it’s trying to reach a crescendo, the radiant light pouring from him. The pure need to destroy evil, and anything near it, including himself. He can hear a roaring scream from the beast, smell the burning, the pain nearly unbearable.

And then it’s over. Then he’s kneeling on his hands and knees unaware of how much time has passed, sword in front of him, the searing pain still present, sick to his stomach from the taste, and he wants to look around, to see if she’s alright, but he can’t will his body to move yet.

There is a horrible moment when Juniper thinks the man will not act at all. He is in pain, that much is clear. As much as she is, by the looks of it. Her heart almost stops at the thought that he will be unable to continue on, that they will both perish in this place because of her foolishness. She does not wish to watch him die, nor to follow quickly after him into the abyss of the next life. She gulps a breath down, keeping her mind on the task at hand, allowing him the moment he needs to gather himself. 

She could cry with relief when he does, when he moves. His words baffle her. Her mind is cloudy, and it takes her a beat too long to process them exactly. She is stuck for a long second on watching him lodge his grand sword into the massive figure in front of him, her vines holding stronger than her flimsy strength should be allowing them to. Juniper didn’t expect him to look back, didn’t expect him to open his mouth and speak words tinged with worry and anxiety. 

Cover your eyes, he says, his voice harsh. She can’t help but follow his instruction, he sounds so sure that it is what must be done, so she screws her eyes shut as tight as she can. Even through her closed eyes, she can feel the glory and fury of the light, blinding still. She gives up her weak attempt at holding the creature, gives up her attempts to hold herself up against the wall. Before she can think much more about it, she finds herself back on the ground again, her head buried in her hands and in the dirt. 

For a long minute, all she can process is that. The light, the way it hurts, the guttural and pained sound the beast makes. Her own sounds are caught in her throat, hitching and unable to escape her chest. Part of her is glad, part of her is worried that the stench of burning flesh is coming from her, that this man has doomed them all to a death more painful than previously threatened. There is a brief moment where Juniper is sure she is dying, that she will not live through this. 

Like all things, the moment passes. The light fades, leaving her on the ground with hitching breaths and hot tears embarrassingly clear on her skin. Juniper takes a moment to force air into her lungs, gasping for it. When she raises her head, wiping away blood and tears. she is almost scared to look around her. The beast is clearly slain, but the man is still there. He’s so still, like he may topple over at the slightest burst of wind. She finds herself identifying with the thought, dizzy and shaky and ready to empty her stomach. Though he seems more affected than her. Of course he does, she finds herself thinking. He was right there, at the centre of things. At least she had some distance between the light and herself. She finds herself unable to look away, awe filling up her chest, a grateful energy that she may never shake off. She wants to ask: What are you? She wants to ask: Are you a god? God touched, at least. He must be, though what god would give him such a power she cannot imagine. 

“It’s dead.” She gasps, after a moment too long, after a moment of struggling to try and form any word on her tongue. “You did it –– I don’t...You did it.” Wetting dry lips, she wipes at her face again, furious with herself for allowing herself to cry. “Do you––? I know healing magic. Will it help?” She knew it would benefit her, but she was unsure if her spells would work on a man such as this, on pain the likes of which he must have felt. 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

ophelia-tylieri‌:

Almost wistfully, she agreed, “It is.” It was no secret that Ophelia loved her home city. While she wasn’t born there, it was the first place that she felt like she was worth something beyond the lot of a middle child. It was cut throat and cruel in many ways, but she thrived in that sort of environment, quickly proving why she deserved her position within the Conservatory. “I think we are heading to Lodorwind next, though the festival is not for months now so we won’t be able to see it.” A picture of elegance, she grasped her hands in front of her, and set her shoulder back, eyes still looking upwards towards the dancers.

A smile grew on her face at the thought, “Oh? I wouldn’t have thought so, despite her marriage to Tanera.” After a moment of thought, she continued, “I don’t know why that surprises me so much. I just always assumed their marriage was the understanding the civilization and nature had to coexist, but that doesn’t necessitate Yaria caring about us.” It was comforting to think that the city had two goddesses looking after its wellbeing though. Juniper said it with such confidence, was she a cleric of some sort? They already had Phoenix and that was more than enough holy fervor. Ophelia dismissed the thought, just looking at the other woman she could tell that that likely was not the case. Objectively speaking, she was beautiful and seemed rather kind in a genuine sense. So many people plastered on a smile and were expected be liked and trusted, herself included, and for the most part it worked, but Juniper’s smile seemed like more than that. 

Oh, she could imagine that Phoenix had been convincing; he rarely spoke of anything unless he believed in every ounce of it. A double sided sword. With a friendly grin, she nodded, and with a light laugh conceded, “He briefly mentioned it. Will you be staying with us long?” 

She was surprised that she felt disappointed at Ophelia’s words. Lodorwind was never a place that Juniper would long to see –– it stood for too much, it was too different from the kind of place she liked to call home. But the festival had sounded so beautiful, and Juniper has always had a soft spot for beautiful things. She watches the woman, cutting such a graceful and put together picture in the streets of this small village. 

Juniper can’t help the breathless laugh then, “Of course she cares.” With a small shake of her head. “She is a goddess of nature, she cares for us all.” Juniper couldn’t say that she agreed with their way of life, couldn’t say she relished in the thought of Lodorwind. But they were all a part of nature, she supposed, even if some embraced it more than others. They all had the soul of the world within them, connecting them. “It’s like hunters and prey.” She muses, a shoddy metaphor. “They have to co-exist, and Yaria still smiles upon the hunters in equal measure. She would never judge something for a difference in its nature.” 

She gave the last question a moments thought. On the topic of nature, it was against hers to stick in a group so large. Dangerous. Unpredictable. But she needed the help, and the companionship wouldn’t kill her. She would like to get to know Phoenix more. Bren was intriguing. Ophelia, so far, was strangely...interesting to speak with. “I’m going as far north as I can get.” It was thoughtful. “I suppose I’ll travel with you as far as you go and...take my leave if I need to.” 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

llyrbxnes‌:

Llyr holds his hand out a bit too long before shifting it back to his side. Behind him, his tail whips a little, uncertain and feeling a bit slighted. “We’re an okay bunch, mostly,” he tells her, just for something to say. “Some a little less friendly than others, but all mostly good.” The dancer he had been staring at began to twine their body like a pendulum, urging them back and forth. Llyr rocks a little on his heels, unconsciously following the movement.

He’s heartened, though, when she gives her name. “Juniper. Nice to meet ya.” A warm smile passes his features at the mention of Phoenix. “That he is. The best I’ve met so far.” He doesn’t share that Phoenix’s goodness sometimes puts him on edge, sometimes makes him wonder about innate good and innate evil in a way that he isn’t always comfortable with. “Yeah, I think there’s, like, ten of us, now, with you?” He frowns thoughtfully. “That is kind of a lot.” Very different from just himself and the journey.

She watches the dancers with a smile, uncaring of the restlessness this boy seems to imbue. He has the aura of a puppy, something small. But she knows well enough that even the nicest seeming thing can end up cruel and violent.

She huffs out the smallest laugh at his words. Ten people. The largest group she’d shared since she lost her home was four. A tense shared campfire on the road. Outsiders were dangerous. They could take the things you love and ruin them, they could desecrate holy places with glee. Swallowing past it, she admits quietly: “I’m...unused to the company of such a large group.” 

And then, because she does realise that she is not giving off the friendliest aura, and does not want to disappoint anybody before they have even set off, she continues. “But it is, yes, nice to meet you all. I’m hoping that Phoenix was right when he suggested I travel with you for a time.” 

[seabstan]

raven reyes smiling is all that matters (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

[juniperfarheart-blog]

ophelia-tylieri‌:

Ophelia’s eyes were drawn upwards towards what the other person was looking at. Almost curiously, she cocked her head, trying to see what Juniper saw. They were graceful, elegant, and, she didn’t know, fine enough? Nothing awe inspiring. Perhaps overexposure to such performances had made her desensitized to them, a depressing thought that caused her heart to clench lightly. Moving on, she watched for a minute in silence, not wanting to interrupt Juniper’s obvious delight, before finally speaking, “It has been awhile since I’ve seen something like this.” That at least was true, and not horribly pessimistic, “In Lodorwind we have a festival not all the different than this, but leagues larger. All business in the entire city goes on hiatus to celebrate.” The Conservatory would put on a large show of sparks and tricks demonstrating their magical prowess in the most superficial fashion. It always drew in the crowds.

Finally, she let her eyes drift towards Juniper, “I’m Ophelia.” With a practiced grace, her head inclined lightly in greeting and with a soft smile she continued, “Rumor has it Phoenix convinced you to join our intrepid group of adventures. A terrible decision really, but nonetheless it is a pleasure to meet you.” 

Juniper can’t help but be sucked in by the words this stranger speaks. Her natural wariness of strangers is partially outweighed by the wonder she feels that something could be grander, more spectacular than this. Or, that isn’t quite true. Juniper could spew out a long list of things she would consider more beautiful. But none of them are before her now, and none of them are lifting her spirits the way this is. “That sounds beautiful.” She breathed it out, slow. 

She knew little of Lodorwind, but the name did spark something in her memory, and it came to her after a long moment of thought. A story her father had told her of the place, that despite its bustling nature, and the stone walls they built for themselves, they were in the favour of a goddess of nature, if only through marriage. A wide smile broke out on her face at the thought. “Oh, Lodorwind. I’ve heard of there. Yaria smiles upon you.” She can’t keep the excitement out of her voice, the small hope that she might have something more to identify with here than a simple trip north. 

Her nose wrinkles up fondly with the smile, even more so at the mention of her saviour. “He proved quite convincing.” She says it with a small bow of her head. “And you too. I’m Juniper, but I suppose my new friend has told you that as well.” 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

phoenixashbringer‌:

This time, the vision is of his guide, which is a great annoyance, considering how Valandras treats the job of guiding him. He’s come to prefer the vague, open to interpretation dreams, over the dreams with direct words from Valandras. At the best of times, the angelic being is judgmental, and at worst, they’re completely unintelligible. This time, his guide shows him a vision of cave outside Farthorpe and tells him that he should’ve been there already, to prevent whatever it is that is apparently against what Erona Favilla and the forces of good command, as if he could have known. The problem with the dreams, of course, is that he cannot talk back and tell Valandras that if they wished for him to be there an hour ago, they should have gifted him the vision at the beginning of his afternoon nap. Of course, there’s nothing to do about it now, though, but go and confront whatever lies in the cave, so he takes his new sword, a little more than thrilled to have the presumed chance to try it out, and starts off though the crowds towards the outskirts of town as best he can while blindfolded. 

It’s slow going, especially considering how completely unused to snow Phoenix is, and he can all but hear Valandras complaining that now he is even later than he should have been for the event. He mutters to himself something along the lines of the gods should not have made the mulled wine of the solstice taste so delicious then, though, although he’s certain his guide is no longer listening. It takes him nearly slipping down a small slope on the outskirts of the city to finally get frustrated enough to pull the blindfold off, thinking that he’s far enough out to be rid of distractions. He’s wrapping the silk around his neck careful, in case he needs to pull it back up in an instant, when he hears the scream, bloodcurdling, full of pain and surprise, from nearby. An instant, nothing matters but that, knowing this was exactly what he was meant to prevent, and by the sounds of it, he may already be too late. 

That thought is enough to spur him into action, the thought of failing even at the unknown unacceptable. He would rather have that pain himself, than let the goddess down. It doesn’t take long to find the cave, to sprint inward with care thrown to the wind, Oathsword held aloft. His eyes land on the injured woman first, before the danger. It doesn’t take much to see how badly she’s hurt. He pauses next to her.

“Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself worse if you keep moving. I’ll help you just wait,” he says swiftly, before turning his attention to the beast, the yeti. Of course, it wouldn’t be simple. There is the possibility of running, of carrying her out before the creature regains its footing, but he’s itching for a fight. The problem is, of course, getting close to its claws, but it’s a risk that’s worth it. He touches the blade of his sword, casting searing smite on the metal, and runs forward towards the yeti.

The blade makes contact with the creature’s arm, the fur catching fire, an ungodly shriek coming from it’s open mouth as it swipes at him with its unharmed arm. For all his might, he’s not fast enough for the creature, and its claws catching his shoulder just barely, but more than enough to blind him momentarily from the pain. There it is, the taste of ash on his tongue, the desire to burn, but he knows full well he can’t do anything like that with the innocent in the cave. He’s not certain, though, that he can hold the yeti off long enough to give her a chance to escape without hurting herself further.

It all seems like one of the stories you might hear around a camp fire, the kind that Astra liked to wax poetic about as they strolled together through the secluded paths of her cherished woods. Damsel, regrettably in distress. A heroic silhouette stopping next to her. She can blame the odd thought of it on her injuries and the stress. 

Her head hurts and she thinks she can feel the dampness of blood seeping into her hair, but she processes his words clearly enough. She has her mouth formed around words, about to say: what could you possibly do? But they die quickly on her tongue. He cuts a heroic figure, all sword and flaming fury. She watches as the beast regains its footing after her own desperate attempt at a spell, the stranger before her using the opportunity to wound it and receiving a blow in turn. Luckily, he isn’t knocked off his feet the way that she had been. 

The pained cry of the beast almost saddens her, somewhere behind the terror. It is a majestic thing, as much as it is violent and horrible. This is its home, and it is in its nature to eat. She does not like the thought of harming a hunter such as this, a glorious and formidable creature. And yet, she also does not like the thought of dying here, or in abandoning this formidable warrior to fight the creature alone. With a pained grunt knocking out of her chest, she struggles to try and pull herself upright to assist him. You are Juniper Farheart. You have never faced a challenge you cannot rise to. You have the strength of the land within you.  Using the wall to brace herself, she ignores the flair of hot pain, distilling the sound that wants to come out to a whimper, and gets as much to her feet as she can manage. As she moves, she manages to grunt out. “I can––” A beat, to catch her breath “–– restrain it.”

She braces her shoulder against the wall, breath panting out and working as quickly as she can. It’s hard to concentrate through the pain, through the panic in her chest, through the desperate wish to not see this man hurt just because he tried to save her from her own stupidity. She couldn’t fight the beast off herself, and she suspected that if they ran it would follow them quickly. This was its terrain, its home, and some sunlight and a little snow wouldn’t hold it back from its prey. But if she could force her own mind into submission and remember the right words, she could try and buy the stranger enough time and enough of an advantage to strike again. 

The entanglement spell doesn’t come easily to her. It’s one she’s seen her father use, on occasion. As she focuses her mind and works the words of the spell out, she feels a spark of true hope and pride. Sprouting plants, wiggling vines conjured up from the rocky earth of the cave. It won’t hold the beast for long, but as she watches them wrap around its body, she has at least a little more hope than she started with. “Do something,” she pants, attempting to maintain her own concentration through the dizziness. “Quickly, please.” 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

brenharrowood‌:

     “We are,” they confirm with a nod, once she’s finally looking at them again and not distracted by the dancers. Easily distracted– not the best trait, but certainly not the worst flaw of anyone in their group. They’d traveled with worse, before. “As far as Lodorwind, at least. Past that, I can’t make any promises, but its safer in groups.”

She would know that, of course, from having stumbled into a Yeti’s den alone. Leave it to Phoenix to be the knight in shining armor, swooping in our of nowhere to save a stranger from near-death, to offer her a place to travel with them out of the kindness of his heart. Was there something more– has his goddess guided him to her? Bren didn’t hold much faith in any god in particular, but Erona Favilla felt like something of a vaguely trustworthy patron to the Gambit when Phoenix was around, bestowing good favor on them, so maybe Juniper’s appearance was some kind of fate. They’d have to wait and see. 

     “What takes you north, then?”

She could feel the calculation in their eyes. She runs her own gaze over them in return, grudgingly admitting that they might have the point. She’d been on her own for only a couple of weeks now, and she’d managed to get herself exhausted, attacked, and injured. Her head still ached, her leg still hurt even more than that. A healing spell she’d cast on herself would always get her back on her feet, but this Bren figure was right. 

The sting of remembering why she’s travelling in the first place sets a frown on her face. One flicking glance back up at the dancers, and then down again. Her father was missing, and in danger, and she was lingering here for days just because she needed help. It was weak of her, she should have been stronger. 

Fake it until you make it, right? Thats what she thinks as she sets her shoulders a little higher, meets Brens eyes. “I’m tracking a group headed that way. I think –– well, I need to find them soon, and stop them from getting where they’re going.” A beat. “It’s important.” And mainly because she doesn’t like being the only one asked questions, she lets herself be curious. “Why Lodorwind?”

[juniperfarheart-blog]

llyrbxnes‌:

“Lots of dwarves,” Llyr related of the strange city. “Even more stones. Very little magic.” He offered the other smile, though. They were meant to be a new companion, after all. And beyond that, Llyr appreciated that he wouldn’t be the newest of the group any longer. “My party was passing through,” he answered. Cocking his head a little, he added, “Yours too, now, I suppose.”

Above them, one of the dances made a daring loop in the air. Their hair played out from the momentum and Llyr was transfixed. Without looking away from the scene, Llyr offered his hand to shake. “I’m Llyr. I’m with Phoenix. Or, rather, we’re both with the King’s Gambit. And now you are as well, it would seem. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier.”

She wrinkles her nose, nodding along to his brief explanation. Knowing he was with Phoenix was a small comfort, but she still feels an uncertainty that may never pass. “I suppose I am.” She says, her voice soft. While the words come out, she doesn’t reach out to take his hand and shake it as politeness might dictate. Her hands find their way into her pockets, and her eyes return to the dancers. 

He may know Phoenix, but every one of these people aside from Phoenix is a stranger to her. “Juniper.” She tells him, voice steady. “Your friend –– Phoenix. He’s a good man. I just didn’t realise there were so many of you. In the Gambit, I mean.” 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

llyrbxnes‌:

Llyr, too, finds his gaze locked on the floating dancers. Ever since he was a child, he has enjoyed heights. Climbing the trees, standing at the top of one of cliffs and throwing his arms out… More than anything, he wishes that he could ride one of the long silks himself. He’s always had an innate sense of rhythm, has always been aware of his body and the way it moves. And to do that, up so high… 

A voice speaks out, echoing his admiration and he turns to smile at the source. It’s the wood elf that Phoenix brought to them, like a child holding a blink dog pup out to their parents. He hadn’t caught the name of the apparent newest addition but there was no time like the present. “Me as well. At least, the most beautiful thing since Balgud, where we just came. The architecture there… It was stunning.”

A stranger. A stranger, talking to her. Its still an oddity in her life, in the grand scheme of things. As she’d made her way around town so far, she’d been mainly ignored. Her eyes flick to the stranger and then back to the dancers, rapt as they move, graceful like clouds in the sky, like the wind whistling through the forest. 

     “Balgud?” She mimicked, sounding baffled. “I think I’ve heard about Balgud.” Her father had spoken of the buried city of dwarves, a place that went deep and cared little for trees and flowers and gentle creatures. She couldn’t imagine living in a forest of stone as opposed to one of trees. “What could possibly have brought you there?” She asks, curious, and repressing a shiver at her imagining of what it would be like to feel those walls pressing around her. 

[juniperfarheart-blog]

brenharrowood‌:

Bren wasn’t so much watching the dancers as they were watching the elf watch the dancers, from a few feet away. Phoenix had pointed her out to them, in passing, a mention that she was interested in joining the Gambit, that he’d run into her on the outskirts of town, that she could hold her own alongside them and was headed the same way they were. The Gambit didn’t exactly vet their members – that had been the tradition since long before Bren was in charge – but Bren still liked to get an idea of who would be joining before they had to tolerate them on the road.

And so they approached her, halfway intrigued by her awe at the dancers; Bren had never been amazed by something like this, but they knew the look of someone who hadn’t spent much time around civilization when they saw it, like a twisted mirror. They’d be interested to hear her story. 

     “Juniper, right?” they replied, as she noticed them approaching, though they kept their arms folded across their chest rather than offering a hand. “Phoenix mentioned you– I’m Bren Harrowood.” 

Juniper kept her hands on her hips, gazing up with wonder as she tracked the movement of the dancers. She doesn’t think to turn and look fully at who she’s talking to. She doesn’t think to turn and offer her hand, to offer a direct smile. 

     “Juniper Farheart, yeah.” Its quick, hardly an introduction at all. Something that her father would box her lightly around the ear for. Little dove, look at people when they speak to you. She allows herself one last lingering glance, one more impressed huff of air escaping her lungs. 

     “Bren.” She nods. She vaguely remembered Phoenix mentioning Bren –– Their leader? The one leading them north? Juniper was wary of travelling with a group, but Phoenix had proven himself somewhat trustworthy in her eyes, and so she was willing to entertain the notion of travelling with them, at least for a short time. After all, she still ached from her encounter with the yeti. A companion or two to keep her sharp couldn’t do any harm. “You’re going north.” She blurts, the only common ground she thinks they have to speak on. “I am too. As far north as I can get.”