Arturius walked along the outskirts of Fort Vandal, not the least bit surprised to see his contact lounging on a particularly flat rock that jutted out over the dips of the dunes surrounding the pass. He watched from a distance as she held her arms out above her, flat on her back, and drew shapes with her slender fingers in the sky. Her companion, a large jungle stalker, lingered nearby, sprawled lazily out on the stone.
It had been a while since he had made contact with the sylvari, Arturius realized as he followed the slope towards her, but each interaction was typically quick and in his favour.
“Mister Blackheart!”
He stopped in his descent, only a dozen feet away now, and watched as the ranger rolled over and hopped up to her full height (not a bold statement) to face him.
“I heard you coming,” she chirped through her mask, patting her long ears as she waved him over.
“I should never be surprised,” Arturius commented, approaching slowly as the ranger dropped back down onto her knees and started rifling through her things. Velvet, the cat, did not move other than to turn her head towards him and blink her eyes once; he bowed his head some in return. He crossed his arms and waited, eyes noting the thick scabbard that housed her greatsword and her imbued longbow perched atop of it. It almost ached him to see her handle such weapons so carelessly, but felt that she purposely maintained an aloof personality.
After all, Etherie Withernot was a peculiar little sylvari. And he could have been completely wrong, too.
“Here it is,” Etherie mumbled into her mask, pulling out a tube from her bag and popping it open with her thumb. She pulled the map from its container and handed it to Arturius, who unrolled it gingerly to reveal her always-impressive handiwork.
“Up to date?”
“Changed some details just yesterday!” Etherie answered, muffled behind the fanged half-mask she always insisted on wearing. He peered over the parchment at her then back to her work, eyes following the flowing lines and notes that created the detailed map of the Silverwastes.
“I was considering going just beyond the Hive,” he heard her say as he looked along the southern part of the map with a furrowed brow.
“The Hive?” Arturius said when her comment registered. He rolled the map back up and took the tube from her hands while she was distracted.
“Mhm, where Mordremoth’s lieutenants seem to find their source of power. I’m calling it the Hive,” Etherie explained hastily, “I doubt that’s the official name or anything.” Her voice dropped significantly and he had to lean in to hear her through the mask, “The Order has been studying the creature within.. What makes it regrow, the amount of leyline energy it is consuming.. that sort of stuff.”
Arturius nodded, mind already working on what he could do with the information.
“But what stopped you from going beyond it? The Pact is already readying their airships to fly into the jungle, no?” Arturius asked, slipping the map away with a nod. Though, when Etherie didn’t respond in short order, the thief turned his attention fully to the ranger, watching as she fidgeted on the spot and her fingertips traced the fangs on her mask.
“Shrub. Seems unlike you, don’t it? You’re always the first agent I know to catapult into the maws of danger to scribble it on a piece of paper.”
Still, the sylvari refused to answer and Arturius felt mounting impatience. “What aren’t you telling me?” he demanded at last.
“I tried to,” Etherie whispered, fingers still around the mask, “But there’s...”
“...There’s... what?”
Her fingers moved delicately and her mask pulled away as she lowered her arms and leaned in. Arturius had forgotten what the tiny ranger’s face had looked like, even with the smooth sloping bark that split in rounded shapes to reveal her glow... but he would have remembered the broken gash from her lip to her jaw, and he certainly would have remembered it if it festered with a deep offset of golden-orange.
His mouth hung open as he stared at it.
“There’s something there, Arturius Blackheart, and I can’t go there yet.”
“What did this to you?” Arturius asked in a hollow voice.
“The jungle did.”
He stared at her incredulously.
Etherie’s face contorted with frustration and her eyes narrowed. “It tries to talk to me. I can feel it, pressing in at the back of my head, through every branch...” she trailed off uncomfortably and shifted her weight back and forth. “As much as I want to dive head-first into what lies beyond, I...”
Arturius’ eyes trailed to the gash again.
“Can you hear it clearly?”
“Not quite,” Etherie replied lamely. “But if you’re going there,” she continued, pulling her mask back on, her voice taking on the muffled filter once more, “Just let your Boss-lady know that the jungle is alive more than you humans know.”
Arturius watched her turn back to her things and pull her weapons over her shoulder.
“You’re lying,” he breathed. She heard him; he knew she did.
Sure enough, she glanced back at him.
“You’re lying,” he repeated, “You are going back.”
Etherie’s eyes lit up, “Don’t be silly, Mister Blackheart. There’s a dragon feeding.”
She giggled beneath her mask and as she tried to walk past him, he grabbed her shoulder. Arturius glanced down at the tiny cartographer.
“Be careful.”
“You’re worried about me?” she chimed. Arturius clenched his jaw. Not really, he thought, it was more a formality than anything... though the idea of ‘a presence’ was off-putting in any case.
He didn’t answer, and Etherie slipped out of his grasp.
“Don’t ruin that map, Mister Blackheart.”
Arturius sighed, though paused when something bumped his hip lightly. He glanced down to Velvet, who’s large almond eyes blinked once at him.
“Take care of the little weed, will you?”
Velvet blinked again before slinking off after the ranger, leaving him alone with the map.
