•?((¯°·._.• MŸŚȚŖÄ ÄȞŮĻÄŅŅÏ •._.·°¯))؟•
Erobus.. The highest of the Elders stood confidently carrying a presence that reflected the images of sages who's vast knowledge of the universe went by unchallenged. The threads of his robe covered his body in a dark fabric that laid gently on the old man's shoulders. The designing of the robe, with it's dark tones and placements of obsidian armor made Mystra wonder if he was really a holy man, pious to the Order and upholding the balance of the universe, or a mage versed in the arts of darkness and witchery who's true choice of faction (being either good or evil) was always in question.
The latter was, most likely, false. However, there's none who can question a being, who's lived for far longer than Mystra, who's power lied in the ascertaining of knowledge in various forms of magic. His eyes mentioned to Mystra stories that went beyond those told to her from when she was younger, a timid foxling who's depth lacked any suffering and pain that others were so unfortunate to bear. On that fateful when she was younger, both suffering and pain crept up from the darkest tales she'd heard as a child and churned in to a sea of living misery who's depths repeatedly drowned her.
Quickly, Mystra tried to shake off that unpleasant nightmare. Memory, the intangible knife that crept up and poked it's sharp blade never seemed to show any mercy to Mystra. The night that tore away her childhood and together with the deafening roar of thunder and the haunting cries of her kin melded in to an unending cacophony of horrible terror. Attempting to stride pass her memories and the road of her own doubt Mystra leapt out from the well of her mind and back to the present.
The Vnamen she'd heard not too long ago was still there raising her chin proudly for everyone to see. Mystra saw how she spoke, her rowdy expressions already painting a smug image in her mind.For Mystra she thought of how true it was for the mind to form in to words one's thoughts, but to the Vnamen words appeared to be more like the rain of a monsoon, hard and non stopping.
Thankfully the Vnamen that now came to be known as Diana did in fact stop speaking, atleast long enough for Azael to greet her. In contrary to Diana's willful speech, Xi found it hard to grasp his own words in front of Erobus. Unlike his threatening size as well as troublesome odor, Mystra thought of him as modest and gentle. Perhaps it was her kind that taught her that even beasts, as mighty and fearsome as they come, all have a gentler side often hidden from the world's eye.
After Xi greeted Erobus the room became quiet, except for the soft crackings of torches.