closed starter for @nerdybirdboy
The spring was a long enough walk into the woods that Timothy had set off in the mid-morning light, only for it to become an afternoon heat by the time he reached it. He was carrying a pack with him, as well as a blowgun he’d swiped from the armory when no one was looking.
He wasn’t allowed to be here. He knew that plenty well, considering the sheer volume of times the order had been passed onto him at the barest hint of his own curiosity, from anyone with any authority over him at all.
The problem with that was that the more it was given to him, the more he wanted to break it. So, really, it wasn’t his fault. Bruce and Kal should have known better than to discourage him from this.
It had taken him the entirety of his undercover tenure in the Kingdom of Storms to formulate a foolproof plan which would keep him entirely out of suspicion for this unauthorized visit—though, he wasn’t sure it mattered now, considering the impending war hanging over everyone’s heads. He didn’t think anyone was really looking for him, with so many preparations to work on instead.
Regardless, he enacted it how he’d planned anyway, signing himself up for a two-day travel mission, making all necessary appearances beforehand to make it convincing. As it was, he was meant to be walking through the countryside and recruiting able-bodied warriors for the Els.
Rather than spend the day canvassing, however, he was wandering deep into the woods, cloaking himself in the underbrush and shadows, and then knocking out the guards who kept watch over the little spring with a well-aimed dart for each of them.
Binding the pair to a tree out of earshot, he wrapped cloth around their sleeping eyes, and then finally—finally—crept into the clearing.
Struggling to veil his interest, he approached the edge of the water, perhaps a little too closely. He should have been more cautious, but an unsated curiosity pulled him forward until the water lapped at the toes of his boots.
“Who is it who lives here?” He asked, clenching his fists, as if steeling himself. “I seek an audience.”
