Kevril Loreweaver
Kevril shrugged slightly, rolling his muscles so that they glistened in the sunlight. His skin had browned to the point where he appeared almost half tree, more part of the forest than something living within it. Perhaps that was what gave him away. No elf, no matter how long they spent standing in the blinding sunlight, would bronze.
“My companion,” he answered in his usual clipped tone. It was not that he did not want to talk, nor even that he did not like to. He was simply a down-to-earth sort of man. He had no time nor inclination for flowery speeches. He said what he had to say, and that was it. “She blew away in the storm.”
He did not care that it might sound… odd. Most companions would not blow away in a heavy wind. Most companions were not light weight birds of prey, either. He saw no reason to explain, unless he was asked.
“Where do you travel?” he asked calmly. He might as well know, so that he could point the traveler in the right direction once they escaped the pleasant, dappled shadow of Tenet Wood.
_________________________________
Yasryne Everhund
Yasryne limped along behind the woman, cringing in the sunlight and doing her best not to blindly lose her footing while she clung to Luna’s cloak. Back in her caves, the darkness would have been nothing to her. She could see with even the slightest fragment of light. This brilliance, on the other hand…
“Some necromancer’s tower,” Yasryne answered shortly. “Kitherine Damacus… I think.”
The name felt strange on her tongue. She was unaccustomed to speaking outside of the caves, unaccustomed to conversing with any creature but a drow. It was then that she realized she did not know what this companion of hers was. Being blind… well, it was frankly hell. The sooner her eyes adjusted, the better.
“I’m not going to be able to find it on my own,” she admitted begrudgingly.
_________________________________
Narisaa Feledor and Kitherine Damacus
Kitherine gave a small, quiet chuckle as the elfmaiden curtsied before him. Even human women did not do such things – they looked upon his dark robes with open scorn, spurned his presence. Clearly, Claenereth had not spent much time on the human side of the world.
“Do not be in such a rush, Lady Claenereth,” Kitherine murmured in the familiar elvish tongue. Compared to the language of magic, elvish had been easy to master. “Please, come in. Sit.”
He gestured to the corner of the room, where, beside the sourceless blizzard, a semi-circle of armchairs had appeared. The blizzard seemed to have no effect on the suddenly cozy aura of his study. Reaching out, he offered one thin hand to Claenereth. The fingers were surprisingly slender, the bones visible beneath the skin, as though his magic had burned away all the flesh beneath. His hands were almost skeletal.
“Narisaa,” he called quietly. “Fetch some wine and food. The lady must be tired.”
“Of course, Master,” Narisaa answered in a tone that clearly stated he was not pleased with being used in the place of a servant. Nevertheless, he turned on one heel and strode back out of the study, leaving in search of suitable sustenance.
“Please,” Kitherine whispered, beckoning Claenereth to take his hand and leading her in a sweeping of shadowy robes to the chairs. He waited for her to take her seat before taking one himself. The whole time, his head never shifted enough to reveal the face beneath the darkness of his hood. For one long moment, he sat in silence, re-ordering his pouches and settling himself back against his chair. Then he turned to face her, nothing but a pair of brilliant silver eyes beneath the velvet of his robes. “I am afraid that your goddess has not shared with me the purpose of your mission,” he told her softly, once he was ready, and had fixed her in his piercing silver gaze. “I can speak only with my own goddess, and Helkara has never been on the friendliest of terms with her siblings.”