Log file from Cutter. 3/2/2000 12:21:18 AM Title: Planting a Seed... Characters: Windkin, Rillwhisper, Cutter, and Zyreen Synopsis: Cutter has a short talk with Rillwhisper which is quickly sidetracked by a conversation with Zyreen and Windkin. Cutter attempts to make Zyreen aware of her chosen lord's likely actions... Southern Hall(#280RJa) Sheer elegance of size unfolds before you. The Southern Hall, entrance to Blue Mountain, expands upwards into a dark indigo, slowly falling back down in lighter hues, mauve just overhead and a damp pink at foot. Carved and shaped from the stone, hawks and falcons adorn the walls near the entrance. Stone ivy, tainted with a vibrant green and brown of shaping magic, slowly progresses towards the north, first intermingling with real flora, then disappearing behind what could only be lush vegetation for a cavern. To the west, a staircase forms an octagon as it angles down in a colorful and playful design of color. Although the bottom step shares the same rich blue stone as the floor, each consecutive step shifts hues until the last reaches a deep green, leading into the shadows of an arch. To the southeast, another arch decends into a grotto, night-sky blue pillars shouldering either side. The air is fresh and clean, a breeze blowing through unseen places high above. A rich sweetness of vegetation rolls in through the northern arch. Overhead, shadowy bridges span the eastern and western walls, drawn from the very stone. Although lit well enough to make out the distinct details of the hall, the huge space echoes voices and footsteps several times, contributing to the immenseness of Blue Mountain. Windkin seems to have taken refuge in one of the nooks high in the walls of the Hall. The only thing that could possibly give him away, tucked in as he is, is the glint of his eyes as he watches. Cutter walks through the passages of the mountain, fairly familiar with some of them, he is, but, that doesn't seem to help the nagging feeling of being watched or the insistance that there's some sort of danger lurking behind Winnowill's new appearance. Worst of all is the fact that New Moon and Rainrunner are both outside. There's a strong scent of elf and wolf lingering in the Southern Hall -- and no small wonder, since that's where what's left of the Willowholt has been making its camp ever since the destruction of their territory. A small group of them are sitting together, keeping pretty much to themselves for the time being, engaged in homely tasks of leather stitchery and other much-needed mending; there's Joy and her child Summit and Ahdran hovering protectively near. Some short distance away is the restless chieftess, Rillwhisper, keeping an eye on what tribesmates of hers are in sight even as she tries to burn off her own excess energy by practicing sword-thrusts at shadows. Zyreen moves quietly near the northern entrance of the cavern, pausing to touch a shaped 'stone' ivy now and then. When her fingers encounter a real plant interspersed with the carvings, she pauses, closing her eyes and quietly touching the life within with her magic. She ignores the small crowd in the cavern, her attention diverted and distracted by more important things than wolfriders. The shadow in the ceiling shifts as something seems to have affected the hiding Windkin. But he still doesn't emerge, especially as he sees Zyreen enter. Cutter stops as he catches sight of the Willowholt elves. He breathes a small sigh and looks for the one he came to see. There.. practicing with her sword, **Ayooah. Rillwhisper..** he sends rather boldly, quelling his trepidation at the possibility that Winnowill is watching from somewhere nearby.. let her watch. The Wolfbringer freezes where she half-crouches, that brightmetal knife of hers poised in her right hand as if to stand between her breast and an oncoming foe. However, as she espies Cutter's lanky form over the top of the blade, a far friendlier expression surges across her features. "You made it," she calls in relief, standing up straight and sending the knife home into its sheath at her thigh, with one single graceful gesture. Zyreen pauses for a moment, her attention diverted by Rillwhisper's voice, as well as the arrival of the Outsider. The delicate brows furrow together, and her hands clasp almost reflexively below her breasts, her long sleeves concealing her stomach once more. She does not move from the protective safety of the shadowy wall, simply standing near it and waiting, watching. Windkin's eyes flick back to Zyreen. Why does she even bother to cover her stomach. She already admitted there was no cub. Surely the rest of the Mountain knew it... Cutter's mouth curls into a smile, though there is an unease that will refuse to leave his features until he's out of the mountain once more. He gives a slight nod of his head as he approaches Rillwhisper, **My eyes see with joy, my friend.** he sends as he reaches to clasp her forearm. "My hands touch with joy," is the smaller chieftain's ready reply; there's more than a little relief in those deep, full green eyes of hers, as well. "You've come, with your tribe, then?" Now that her senses have come fully alert again, no longer entangled with her magic, Windkin's delicate, unique scent lightly touches her nostrils, and Zyreen glances upward, scanning the shadows. She sends a question, **Are you there?** Windkin is indeed there...no use hiding from Wolfriders. ** Yes... ** He doesn't seem to want to answer anything else to her right now. Cutter shakes his head, **No, just Strongbow and me. We came to find out why no one had come to the holt yet.** he replies, just before his lupine gaze lifts to regard Zyreen with casual curiosity and then he looks about for any sign of Windkin. Hmm.. the old nose must be getting cluttered wtih too much information. Rillwhisper's scented Zyreen and Windkin, of course -- but as they haven't approached her, she hasn't approached them. The Willowholt chieftess -- or ex- chieftess, as the case is increasingly seeming to be -- blows out a breath and tells Cutter softly, casting a glance over her shoulder at Joy and her boy and her long-time lifemate, "Most... of us seem to want to stay here, Cutter. The ones with the Glider blood, anyway. And now... Dawn's cub Midnight's Recognized." A small lopsided smile curls her mouth, though, at the news of Strongbow's presence. "Wayfound's back at your Holt, I'll assume?" Zyreen offers Cutter a sweet smile when she catches him regarding her, quirking an eyebrow challengingly. Her expression seems to pose an amused question, and her entire pose is decidedly winnowillian, from the way she angles her head as she watches the pair of chieftains, to the way she clasps her hands. After a moment, she drags her gaze back up to Windkin again. She speaks aloud, to draw attention to him. "Why do you hide when our noses may find you, then?" Windkin still doesn't emerge from his hidey-hole. And he still sends, funny as he rarely did it before in the Mountain, ** I'm not hiding. ** Well, maybe that's how he sees it. Cutter is definately unimpressed with Zyreen's posturing and he shows it by turning his attention back to Rillwhisper, choosing to ignore the Wolfrider turned Glider for now. His brow furrows at Rillwhisper's send and he shakes his head, **Most of your tribe?** he seems stunned at the news. He nods in reply to her last question, **Aye, she's safe and sound denning with Moonshade while we're here.** Casting a curious glance up at the younger elves, Rillwhisper studies them distantly for a few moments, before her attention turns to the others in sight. Apparently they haven't actually noticed Cutter's arrival yet, for Summit has seized the attention of his mother and her mate, and the lad tugs the two of them off through the hall, presumably on some youthful urgent errand -- a look at the Egg, perhaps. "Well, most of what half of us are still here. There's still talk of making a Holt -- but there's precious little we can do about that without a treeshaper. And with Midnight Recognized to LeafFall at the Ravenholt I don't think he'll be budging very far, anyway." Cutter nods as he glances around at the elves present, **You're welcome to come to LostHolt, you know.** he sends quietly, offering another possible solution to the problem at hand. His gaze lifts toward Windkin's hiding spot and he seems to share a send with the younger elf. You locksend ** You should come home, too. ** to Windkin. Windkin locksends ** I plan on it. ** Windkin locksends ** If I'm still allowed there... ** Zyreen's watchful gaze follows to where Windkin hides, and for a brief moment, she looks frustrated--perhaps wishing she shared her master's ability to pluck sends from the air. "Do you go back to Lostholt soon?" She aims the question at both Cutter and Windkin, her gaze focused on neither. Windkin finally switches to speech, "Why should it matter to you? You've had your fun with me, haven't you?" He finally does emerge, floating down just as gracefully as any full-blooded Glider could wish. Perhaps he displays that talent to irk Zyreen. She may desire to be a Glider but she can never be, no matter what. Well. Rillwhisper can't help but notice the exchange between Windkin and Zyreen now -- even aside from the fact that the latter elf has been naggling at her consciousness somehow, something about her scent familiar even if the Wolfbringer can't quite manage to place her scent. Very softly, to Cutter, she murmurs, "I'll call council. You can offer to everyone at once. We need to make a decision on this, if nothing else." Cutter's brows lift at a send from Windkin and then he frowns slightly as he watches the younger elf float his way to the floor. He continues to pointedly ingnore Zyreen, or at least he seems to. Then he turns back to Rillwhisper and nods, **Good, we'll den here with you until the council... then we leave.** You locksend ** Didn't I just tell you that you should come home with us? ** to Windkin. Windkin locksends ** Yes... <> ** Zyreen gives a tired sigh, rolling her eyes just slightly. The bored expression returns to her face, but not before a glimmer of envy can be seen lurking in her dark-violet eyes as Windkin descends. "Think for a moment, soul-mate. Do you think I would truly offer my soul-name simply to toy with you? And how would I pull yours?" She quirks a brow challengingly at him, never losing her aloof mien--until she catches Rillwhisper studying her. "Is something wrong?" The cold voice is utterly imperious. To Cutter, Rillwhisper nods evenly -- though there's a darkness tinging her eyes nevertheless. And then she's silent, sending perhaps to the taller chieftain... You sense in a locksend, Rillwhisper's mind gestures towards Windkin, and she asks you softly, ** Going to convince him to come--** And then Zyreen distracts her. The Wolfbringer's green gaze swings back to Zyreen, then. "No," she replies, not imperious, but not subservient either. Her brows arch up at that tone of voice. "Thought you smelled familiar, is all." Windkin's arms cross at his chest as he glares at Zyreen. Oh, she hurt him deeply even if he won't admit it. "Soul-mate." He repeats with a curl of his lip. "I don't know how you did it, but it obviously isn't Recognition if there is no cub." You locksend ** I'm trying, even as we speak. ** to Rillwhisper. "Perhaps it is simply the scent of the mountain that is throwing you off. I don't know what else it could be." Zyreen's answer sounds vague, even to herself, but she does not bother to elaborate, as Windkin's words slice into her. An expression does cross her face--she flinches. "So we get to the truth of the matter. You blame me, simply because my body is unable to bear fruit?" Zyreen's gaze swivels back to Windkin, and she seems to ice over even more. You locksend ** You know that doesn't mean you. ** to Windkin. Rillwhisper frowns, ever so slightly, at the exchange between the younger elves. Abruptly glad most of her tribesmates aren't actually in the Hall right now, she turns slightly more towards Cutter, trying to give Windkin and Zyreen a semblance of privacy -- and coincidentally giving the tall wolf-chief a better glimpse at the dismay that crosses her face. Rillwhisper locksends ** Want me to leave you to this? I have to admit this is part of why I think Wayfound had to get out of here -- elves at one another's throats all the time and nothing of the Way and the wolfpack in it. My cub was hating it and I'm not exactly thrilled myself.... ** Cutter glances toward Zyreen and then to Windkin. He gives a shake of his pale maned head and gives Zyreen his full attention for a moment, **You are a Wolfrider yet, you don't act like one. Your every word has been nothing but, scornful since Strongbow and I arrived. You say that you Recognized Windkin but, one in this mountain has the power to pluck sends and names not meant for her from the minds around her. You cut Windkin with your actions, yet you call him soul-mate all the same. You have forgotten the Way.** His send is not meant to be cold, cruel or angry, simply a statement of the facts as he sees them. He shakes his head clearly pitying Zyreen. You locksend ** I would rather have you stay. I'm sure that Strongbow will be coming any minute looking for you. ** to Rillwhisper. Windkin doesn't seem to care who hears. Zyreen, forget the Way? Why, that's a given! But at Cutter's words about plucked names and sends, actually pales. Winnowill was in the chamber when they 'Recognized', wasn't she? For just a fraction of an instant, something lighten's Rillwhisper's countenance as she glances up at Cutter. Then her glance flashes sidelong to Zyreen and Windkin, though she says nothing. They're not her Tribe; she'll not chastise them, for all that the way they're going at one another is setting her teeth on edge. Zyreen stops abruptly at Cutter's send. "What do you mean.....Lord Winnowill has not the power to force us to exchange soul-names. Only Recognition can do so." There's a brief quaver in the smooth, almost reptillian voice. "And your pathetic Way means nothing to me anymore. I lived it once, and it got me nothing. Now, the only Way I serve is Lord Winnowill. She sees things in a vast scope that you and your puny 'Way' cannot even begin to imagine." Such arrogant, supercillious words spewing from a plainly wolfrider face. Rillwhisper tries, very, very hard, not to burst out laughing. She manages it. She doesn't, however, quite manage to keep from rolling her eyes. She's heard these speech before, after all. Resigned to hearing it spouted off again, but not intending to dignify such an attitude with a reply, she steps a few paces away and unsheathes her blade again, deciding instead to resume her workout. "You talk sense into her, Cutter," is all she has to say on the matter. One corner of Cutter's mouth lifts in a lopsided smile that seems to say 'tsk' to Zyreen. He settles his hands on his hips and rests his weight on one foot in a cocky stance keeping his gaze directly on Zyreen, **Then you have been blinded.** he states flatly. Windkin actually looks a little ill. His color still hasn't returned but he miraculously remains airborne. "...have to go outside..." he manages, heading towards the sky. It's a good thing he's not walking or he would have fallen by now. You locksend ** Be careful.. <> ** to Windkin. Windkin locksends ** ...I just need to get out... ** Zyreen's gaze watches Windkin as he departs, unable to tear her eyes off his back when she knows he's not watching her. You can almost see a bit of her heart in her eyes, though it disappears when the eyes narrow into slits again, to regard Cutter. Her voice turns smooth again. "Do not think to sway me with your lies, Wolf Chief. I have promised to be civil and at all times, courteous to you and your kin. So I shall remain so." The delicate jaw sets stubbornly. An audible snort sounds from Rillwhisper as she begins to settle herself into a fluid sequence of thrusts and parries. "Word of advice, lass -- 'civil' and 'courteous', last I checked, generally include not telling other elves their ways are 'puny', or calling them liars, for that matter." Green lupine eyes study Zyreen again, and all at once a glimmer of recognition flashes across them. Cutter chuckles softly and adds his own barb, **Last I heard you couldn't lie in send..** That sent, he shrugs his shoulders and eyes Rillwhisper's blade with a hint of envy in his cerulean gaze. If Zyreen recognizes Rillwhisper in return, she doesn't acknowledge it. "And it is equally as polite to tell me that I am wrong in my ways? It seems that we are both at fault." She quirks a brow at Cutter, beginning to stalk away from the wall she's stayed near protectively. "I am well aware you cannot lie in a send." Her voice turns musical and sweet for a moment, making it blatantly obvious that she chooses to speak aloud for this exact reason. Windkin glides up into the shadows. Windkin has left. Cutter chuckles as he barely spares a glance toward Zyreen, challenging her a bit, **Yet you call me a liar. Imagine that..** Once more he goes quiet and seems content to watch Rillwhisper at her swordplay. "Lass, there's a difference," drawls the Wolfbringer, "between respecting another elf's customs because that's how their tribe has always done things, and telling another elf point-blank when they're putting out more thorns than a pricklebush and ought to stop it." Rillwhisper pivots around in slow motion, slicing the air with her knife. It'd be a fairly tiny sword for Cutter now that he's Glider-tall -- but for her, it's a sizeable blade. "Get Winnowill to explain it to you, if you don't see the distinction. She's gotten a lot better at diplomacy lately even if she may well still look down on anybody with wolf- blood." The lack of diplomacy seems to now be shouldered entirely by Zyreen. She gives the two chieftains a withering look, then flounces away, her glider robes fluttering. Cutter simply chuckles at Zyreen's reaction and shakes his head as he watches Rillwhisper. It doesn't matter that the blade she weilds is small.. it's still a blade and his is outside.