#morzzanson

[bushelofmuses]

@morzzanson liked for a starter

She didn't get out often on her own, but damnit, she needed certain herbs for her potions and she could only seem to find them here. Given how this place was, she probably should have brought Davrin with her, at the very least. He and Assan could have helped her keep an eye out.

Unfortunately, she found herself face to face with a man who looked wary of her presence when she rounded a corner, and Jalon was struck with the urge to bolt.

Instead, she kept her hands up passively, not reaching for her staff or dagger. She wasn't sure she'd win the fight if he started one; Jalon was a healer, not a fighter, although Hope would keep her safe long enough for her to flee if need be.

"I'm just collecting herbs. I didn't mean to intrude."

[knifesharps]

@morzzanson

"You've got a lot of anger, boy. If you don't learn to use it properly, it will render you ineffective."

[the-eternal-sunflower]

@morzzanson - 😈 💭

"I want to ride you, dragon rider. See how far your stamina can really go."

[knifesharps]

@morzzanson

Mairead weaves silently through the trees, a specter in ivory. Word had come from the scouts of a dragon and–even more curious–a man sitting astride it emerging together from the inert eluvian buried deep in the Tirashan. Her lord husband was not at home to receive the reports, thankfully; she did not have to argue her right to investigate without taking half the barracks with her.

Living in these woods for so many years, Mairead has almost become a part of them. She can almost feel the intruders, and fancies herself another tree, picking up on the trembling aftershocks of the dragon that lashes its tail and stretches its wings among the green. Eventually she hears its growling, agitated breaths, the crush of foliage beneath its massive feet, and footsteps, smaller still, and she hikes up her skirts in one hand and mounts a log to enter the clearing they reside in.

True to word, there they are. The dragon, red as rubies, terrible and beautiful; and the man, catlike in grace and dark-haired. Mairead makes no attempt to hide herself. This is as much her corner of the woods as it is her lord husband's.

"What have we here?" she muses, considering her guests.