who: @raventeresi
where: somewhere in the Silverlands
when: present in the timeline
notes: Please let me know if you need me to add or change anything, excited to get this one going, been looking forward to it!
A hovel could be a home so long as it contained the right things. For just under a decade, Talisa had shared what could only generously be called a structure upon first discovery with Fyrel. As the years crept onward, the unlikely pair had managed to improve it from a structure whose only redeeming quality was the fact it could spare them from succumbing to the elements overnight to something of a respectable home. But nothing in this strange land felt like home to Talisa; colors lacked vibrancy, smells lacked their fragrance, precious stones and metals never glimmered, and every meal was somehow stale. Even so, and primarily against her will, the Silverlands cottage was the spot in the world that had been carved out for herself and Fyrel. Primarily her, as Fyrel travelled often on contracts for the Warrior’s Guild.
Talisa hated to occupy the cottage alone, perhaps only slightly more than she hated to deign to participate in the world around her. This urge to skirt her loneliness between those silent, stone walls was perhaps the only compelling factor that motivated her enough to use the time when Fyrel was away to engage with the network of Nightingales she belonged to for intel. The absence of both covert dragons left their ramshackle home a particularly easy mark; and if one was clever enough to think of the hiding places that two crafty dragons with a decade of expert hiding as a means of survival might think to stow away pieces of their horde a particularly rewarding mark.
More naive than she ought to be with what the world demanded of her to survive, Talisa happened upon the door to the cabin left slightly ajar and brightened for a moment under the impression that Fyrel had returned earlier than expected. She pushed the door open, ready to make some sort of scathing remark about this lack of communication but instead was stunned into silence. There was another occupant within the home–but it wasn’t the pink dragon, it was an intruder. For a creature that knew it was a dragon, even if it was in it’s elvhen polymorph form, she was pathetically prone to a freeze reaction when she felt frightened. Talisa backed toward the door in stunted steps, her hand shaking behind her and fumbling the knob of the cabin door accidentally knocking it shut to trap her within with the raven-haired thief rather than granting her escape.
