"Gestures of Diplomacy" Log Date: 12/21/99 Log Cast: Ekana, Demell, Haikari, Wayfound, Trollkiller, Winnowill, Woodhawk (emitted by Wayfound) Log Intro: The Willowholt refugees have been welcomed into Blue Mountain with a readiness that has stunned every adult amongst them -- and intrigued young Wayfound, who is well aware of her tribe's history with the Gliders as well as the history that their friends at Lostholt have had with them as well. But for whatever reason, Winnowill has allowed them all to be brought in as honored guests, and has even sent her Chosen to regularly patrol the flooded lands of the Willowholt in search of any further survivors that might be found. In the meantime, the Willowholters in the Mountain have discovered the wonders of warm running water and soap, but it's anyone's guess whether these are more wondrous marvels than the friendliness of the Gliders they've begun to meet... and the stunning amiability of Lord Winnowill.... ---------- Underground Spring(#5949RL) A wide stream of water falls from somewhere up above, and collects in a large pool sunk deeply into the floor. There it meets a fountain-like spring that bubbles up several feet, and pours back over into the basin. This place is shaped more by water than by magic, and reflects the water shaped blues and violets and greens that twist and meld together the way they were meant to. Several stone ledges lead like stairs down into the water, which sends up faint trails of pale steam. Other ledges around the outer edge of the cavern are covered in thick furs. Contents: Trollkiller(#3442PVc$g) Haikari Demell(#6005PJc$g) Ekana Treewee Obvious exits: Underground Waterway Stairs Ekana finishes removing her garments, some leathers obviously dirty from her day's hunt. She then moves to the water and sinks in just as the others appear. Ekana Golden green eyes sparkle with the joy of living and of being of this free spirit, though right now there is a certain resigned appearance in them as well.Ekana's firey red locks have been tamed up in fanciful glider style braids which are bound with a stone clip. Her full lips are usually held in a small smile which seems to brighten up the maiden's face even more. Ekana her truely blossomed. She is glider tall and limber like a willow, a "gift" from Winnowill herself . She moves with the grace of a cat, her every step so casual yet precise. Ekana's clothing has been changed to those of the gliders once again. Soft blue-grey leggings tuck carefully into knee-high boots and snug her rather shapely and long legs. Around the tops of the boots are fluffs of white fur as a bit of trim. The tunic seems as if it is part of the leggings though it is deeper in color in the dark blue. The tunic too is form fitting, highlighting her slender frame. The sleeves are long, to her wrists, ending in a "v" over her hands. Around her waist is a belt which holds a knife made of metal in an Underworld design. The front is open in a V down low on her chest and the neck is decorated with soft white furs. Her eyes dart around her, missing little of her surroundings, though other than that, her appearance is one of complete calm and assurance. Demell is already sitting in the water, right next to where Ekana has entered. Oh...new people....Haikari and two others....wolfriders from the look of them. Demell A flutter from behind can be heard. When you turn, Demell appears from the shadows next to a column. He smiles at you like a friend, his crystaline blue eyes glinting merrily in the pale torchlight. His hair, black as the deepest cave in the mountain and streaked with highlights of grey, is pulled into a tight bun with a few feathers hanging from it. He stands about 6 feet tall...average for a glider, but lightly muscled. It's evident that he excercises often. His clothing is simple, but elegant. A dark blue jumpsuit made of the softest suede clings to his body, accenting each curve. Along the sides of his collar are ornate designs, diamonds and squares arranged in a checkered pattern, colored bright white and sultry grey. The sleeves, ending about mid-forearm, are decorated with the same pattern around the cuffs, but have three feathers hanging from the bottom of the sleeve....the chosen never miss them. Accessories are few and far between, but very appropriate. A small leather pouch hangs from his belt, and a simple wooden flute can be seen tucked into the small of his back. If you request it, he may play you a tune from the Mountain's past... Carrying: Skree Treewee's nose twitches a few times, before it sneezes violently on Ekana. Treewee takes up a better vantage point from which to throw nuts at Demell. Haikari comes floating down the stairwell and pauses, hovering just above the floor as she notes that the spring is already occupied. She purses her lips thoughtfully for a moment before drifting over to the side of the pool, **Greetings to you.** she sends to the elves already in the room and then glances over her shoulders to peer at the two Wolfriders and offer them a nod of greeting. Ekana looks towards the stairwell she blinks but offers a smile, ** Heyla to you all, come join us? ** ** Good afternoon, Haikari...who are your friends back there in the shadows? ** Demell turns a bit so he can regard everyone... Wolfriders, indeed. The wolfish connections of the taller of these two elves are unmistakable, given the furry pelt that covers his entire bulky frame; the child at his side, however, looks rather more conventional at least as far as Wolfriders go. "Good evening," the youngster pipes in grave tones at odds with her youthful countenance. "Is it acceptable for my Fur-father and I to explore down here?" Wayfound(#10402Pcpg) This small creature is an elfin child, possibly anywhere between nine and eleven turns of the seasons in age. She is possessed of a fine, tumbled mop of light golden hair only a shade or two darker than her pale skin, through which her pointed ears poke up to display their tapered ends to any who look her way. Her agile young form is reed-thin, but her frame and face have about them a healthy, sturdy look. Enormous eyes of a shade somewhere between amber and the pale green of young leaves dominate that face, and study each and every thing and being in her world with thorough calculation. When she speaks, it is with an adult's words and cadences, and when she sends, an unmistakable intelligence can be felt adding force to her mind's touch. For the time being, she has clad herself in heavier clothing than is her wont: a jacket of stitched-together scraps of brown and green leather, with a hood and long sleeves and laces to tie in front, has been added to her usual outfit along with a small, sturdy pair of light brown boots. She still wears, however, her tunic of soft doeskin beneath the jacket; the tunic is dyed in a mostly even but subtly dappled shade of golden-brown, with the heads of seven wolves ringing her slender waist. Along with the tunic she sports brown breeches laced up the sides with green thongs, made to resemble the breeches of her mother Rillwhisper. ** Of course, little one. Lord Winnowill has stated that you and your kind can explore anywhere in this place that you choose... ** Well...to a point at least. Demell turns a little in his seat in the water, resting his elbows on the edge of the pool so he can look at the pair better...hmmm...giant furry elf and a tiny child... Ekana sinks underwater briefly, reappearing after a moment with droplets of water dripping from her hair. She uses her fingers to undo the braids that had not already been undone as she nods, ** Of course, explore all you'd like. ** She can't help but smile, she hasn't seen a cub in so many turns now and did not realize how much she had missed them until now. Trollkiller pads carefully down the stairs - the rock is wet, and slippery. He follows closely behind Wayfound, unsure of what to expect. ** Greetings... I am Trollkiller. Wayfound is my cub. ** Haikari shrugs her shoulders in reply to Demell, **I know not.. we simply seemed to share the same path.** she observes as she floats over to one side and slips her boots off. She glances toward the two others and shrugs once more, **I see nothing wrong with your exploration of this area.** ** Would you care to join us in a bath? The water is warm and feels nice against skin and does wonders for soothing any pains you may have. ** This offer goes out to everyone here... Demell turns and starts washing ekana's back with a soft cloth... Trollkiller pads over to the water, which he sits beside, then sniffs. "Thank you," Wayfound pipes politely, inclining her head to the three elves here besides her Fur-father, padding with rather more confidence than Trollkiller exhibits upon wet rock, as her feet are not wolfish as his are. Her gaze ranges all about the area, and she can be heard to murmur, "How very intriguing. I wonder if the water here runs up to feed the water in the pool where we bathed before..." Trollkiller samples it with his hand. ** Warm - but not warmer than the water above. A little cooler, I think. ** Trollkiller thinks. ** I've never seen water run up. ** Ekana smiles to Trollkiller and Wayfound, ** Heyla to you both. I am Wolffl...** she pauses and takes a breath, ** Ekana. If you need anything please, don't hesitate to ask for me. ** Trollkiller sends, ** Woffl? That's an unusual name. ** Ekana sends openly ** I was called Wolfflame, but in the Mountain I am now Ekana. ** Haikari removes the rest of her clothing and takes her hair out of the tight twist on the back of her head. She then turns and floats over to the pool where she lowers herself into the water with a soft, "Ahh.." as she settles in and lets her eyes drift shut for a moment. "Ah," says Wayfound, coming over to join Trollkiller in inspection of the pool. "That does appear to be a custom of this place. Our tribesmate Brightmark calls herself Jasmael while she visits." Her ambergreen gaze settles upon Ekana, studying her with a spark of interest. "You are quite tall, so I must conclude that perhaps, like the children of Zalen and Dawn, you share Wolfrider blood and Glider. Tell me, did you also find a name within the Egg? Jasmael spoke to me of such a thing." Demell keeps scrubbing Ekana's back with his cloth, listening to the little cub, Wayfound... Haikari lets an eye open just a bit to peer over at Demell and she offers him a soft smile, apparently carrying on a private conversation with him. Trollkiller slips into the pool. Quite warm. Ekana enjoys the scrubbing though she watches the two and tries to find the words to explain, ** I was given the name...Lord Winnowill felt it would help me adjust to my new living arrangements. As for my height...** she pauses a moment, ** Yes I am both of glider and WOlfrider blood. Lord Winnowill felt that if I looked more the glider, I might understand as well. ** Trollkiller watches Demell and Ekana, and Haikari, and tries to deal with how much the Mountain seems to have changed. Or perhaps it was like this before, to the gliders. He nods as Ekana sends. ** Was this of your own will? ** Haikari's eyes open and she fastens a curious gaze upon Trollkiller, lifting a brow in a haughty arch as she does so. Yet, she keeps her thoughts to herself, it would seem that she is simply curious as to what would prompt him to ask that question. Ekana sinks down slightly in the water, wanting perhaps to hide from the question. She responds slowly, ** I think she meant well, but I would not have seeked this out on my own. ** Demell chuckles to a locksend, still washing Ekana's back. ** Lord Winnowill means well with all of her acts... ** Ah, nice little talking head, isn't he? Haikari glances over at Demell and nods, **Of course she does.** she sends, sounding aghast that anyone would even consider that their great Lord would do anything of malicious nature. Trollkiller glances at Haikari, unsure of what that look meant. ** She's done similar to others as well. It has... ** He stops for a moment, picturing someone in his head for just a moment, sadly. ** ...hurt them. Was this recently, or longer ago? ** Ekana thinks on this for a moment, ** It was some turns ago now...my cub was still an infant. ** Wayfound, who hadn't actually meant to suggest that Ekana's height was not her original one, lifts both her fine pale eyebrows and stares right back at Haikari, Demell, and Ekana; her expression's not unlike Haikari's, though with less shock and more curiosity. Then the child's regard swings back to Trollkiller as she takes in this turn in the conversation, settling down on the edge of the pool and curling her arms about one of her knees. Demell moves his washing from back to shoulder and the side of chest. ** But you have to admit, Ekana....it was for the best, wasn't it? ** Haikari simply keeps quiet letting the conversation carry on around her. She's already put in her thoughts on the matter and that's all there is to say about it in her opinion. So, she just slips under the water for a moment, letting the warm fluid envelope her before she floats back to the surface. Trollkiller looks to Demell. He's not comfortable with one deciding for another. But it's another piece of information. ** It's that... it was done _to_ another. Without their will. ** He looks down into the water... ** That's the Winnowill I'd known, from some many turns ago... ** His eyes furrow, and he frowns. ** And ... something is different, now. I don't know what. ** "Interesting," murmurs Wayfound then, canting her head slightly to the side. "Lord Winnowill appears to be a great supporter of perspective being a crucial factor in events as well as the actions of individual elves, and now, if I understand you correctly, you are stating that she believed that perhaps Ekana's perspective would change if her size did." Wayfound's uncannily acute gaze settles once more upon the willowy redheaded elf, and she inquires in tones of scientific interest, "Was this the case for you?" Ekana thinks on the question a moment, ** I am still a wolfrider even if my sire wishes it were not so. But I do not deny who I am. I am as much of the mountain as I once was of the pack. Did my height bring this about? Perhaps some, I was forced to face who I was more by the reactions of others than anything. ** Haikari's eyes pop open and she frowns at the two that ply Ekana with questions. **Is it not enough that Lord Winnowill was generous enough to allow your tribe to stay within the mountain while you're holt drains of water. She did not have to.. this was an example of her generous nature. She is only cruel when she must be, much as we all are.** Trollkiller looks up to Haikari. ** The Winnowill of before would not, in fact, have done this. And if we were dealing with the Winnowill of before - we'd have found a way to go elsewhere. Somehow. ** He bites his lower lip. ** I don't mean to be ungrateful. I... hope, sincerely, that she has ... changed, somehow. She seems to have, significantly. But I don't know how. ** Demell sighs softly and keeps washing Ekana's side and shoulders, moving to her front. ** Haikari, they are simply curious...they mean no offense to Lord Winnowill or her generosity. ** A glider defending wolfriders? It is a new mountain. Trollkiller sends, ** The Willowholt has long tried to be friends with the Mountain. We have many in our tribe of Glider blood - some of whom are not Wolfriders at all. We've welcomed them. But the Mountain has not been friendly in the ... ** he looks at Demell. ** ...in the past. ** Wayfound immediately swings her gaze back to Haikari, seeming unruffled, but now even more curious. She blinks twice, mildly. And then as Trollkiller sends, she inclines her head to his words before appending her own in slightly bemused tones, "I beg your pardon, if I have inadvertantly given offense. I am simply interested in acquiring information. As my Fur-father describes, our tribe has suffered at the hands of the Mountain in the past, as have others with whom we are on terms of friendship. I personally am gratified that the situation appears to be changing, and am quite grateful that your Lord and others in your tribe have rescued us from the flood and given us shelter." Haikari seems to consider all of this for a long moment before finally, her expression smooths and she nods her head, **All things change in time.** is her reply. Trollkiller splashes idly in the warm water. ** And showed us soap. I like soap. Mostly. ** "Such does appear to be the case, although I do have but roughly eleven years' worth of observation to go by," Wayfound sagely agrees, to Haikari. Demell fixes the child with a curious glance, a brow arching slightly before moving to the other side of Ekana's front, still washing away. ** You did not know, Wayfound. No offense was taken. ** Then, to Trollkiller, ** there is some soap, I believe, in that little niche behind you, near the surface of the water. ** Surprisingly graciously for a child who hasn't even entered her teenage years, Wayfound inclines her tousled head to Demell. "Again, I am most grateful. Then she glances in the direction he indicates and remarks to Trollkiller, "I do not believe I need to caution you, Fur-father, but hindsight dictates that I remind you to be sparing in your use of the soap." Haikari giggles at the reference to the soap, **It can be quite dangerous to the skin if you use too much and don't wash it out well enough.** ** It's hard enough to get it out of one's hair when you have as little as we do... ** Demell looks to Ekana, noting she has fallen asleep... Trollkiller looks up, covered in soap. ** What? ** Trollkiller appears to have overdone it with the soap again. He's foamy everywhere. ** High ones, how much soap did you use, Trollkiller? ** Demell looks a little exasparated... Trollkiller giggles. ** Not _that_ much... ** Trollkiller skitchskitchskitches himself, trying to wash the soap out. Oh dear. "Fur-father," Wayfound says severely, "perhaps I should take a moment to explain what I meant by 'sparing'?" Trollkiller sends, ** I didn't use as much as last time... ** Demell frowns slightly, moving over to look into the little nitch where the soap used to live. In goes a questing hand to see how much... ** You've used almost all of it... ** he sends, turning to look at the very bubbly trollkiller, chuckling quietly at the spectacle of a fur-covered wolfrider covered in turn in bubbles. Trollkiller sends, ** I did not! Well, okay, but there wasn't much! I used less than last night! ** Trollkiller submerges and tries to shake it out. That helps a little. Haikari giggles, **Use your fingers while you're under the water.. that will help to wash it out.** she offers by way of suggestion. Demell moves over to where haikari sits, his cloth at the ready. ** I believe it is your turn now, Haikari. ** And he begins to wash her back. Wayfound doesn't roll her eyes. No. This IS her Fur-father, after all. She does, however, lean her little face over into her little hand and her expression turns odd, as if she can't quite decide whether to scold Trollkiller or actually giggle. Perhaps it's the struggle to remain impassive that's made her divert her attention, hrmm? Trollkiller sends, ** It came out well enough once I got under the waterfall upstairs. ** Demell looks around and points at the waterfall gushing down from above. ** There's a waterfall over there...but be careful, it's meltwater, and the water it's in is right from the insides of the mountain. Haikari seems to catch a send of some sort because her brows draw into a frown and she turns to Demell, **Unfortunately.. I must go. I will have to take you up on the washing another time perhaps..** she sends as she slips beneath the surface to rid herself of the bubbles and then floats herself out of the water and over to the side. Quickly, she dries herself off with a cloth that she brought with her, and slips into her clothes before floating herself up the stairs and out of sight with hardly a glance back. Haikari goes home. Haikari has left. "Fur-father," asks Wayfound once she gets her expression under control, "do you require my assistance?" The child looks up with all of her former gravity. Trollkiller ums and doesn't know. Trollkiller skitches a lot more and has a lot more foam result. Trollkiller sends, ** Okay... maybe. ** ** And I could help too, if it was needed. ** Demell looks nervous at his offer, but if you think about it, he may be the only way Trollkiller can learn to be soap free without messy patches or pills. A quick glance to Wayfound, and Demell slowly swims over to where Trollkiller sits. ** Now...hold still. ** Trollkiller starts to turn, but is told to hold still. ** Um... okay. ** Nervousness almost drips from every part of Demell....he's touching a wolfrider...and a very wolfish wolfrider at that. His long fingertips scritch through the fur of Trollkiller's back and shoulders, the other hand pouring water over, a meticulous movement over back, shoulders, etc... As Demell is already in the water, Wayfound entrusts the de-soaping of her younger sire to the task at hand. She does, however, watch intently. "Soap," she says in deadpan tones, "does appear to make a great deal of itself when it comes into contact with water and fur." Trollkiller mmmmmms. Trollkiller is also extremely tense. More than half is tribe is gone. But Trollkiller is, well, Trollkiller, and he leans a little against Demell's hands. ** Um. That feels... good... ** ** I have been doing this for thousands of years. I would hope I am good at it. ** Demell's hands do their job, de-soaping the tense, furry elf. There is no pride or boasting in that send...merely a statement of fact. "Indeed?" pipes the child at the pool's edge. "You have had practice removing soap from elves with fur?" Trollkiller leans back against Demell, rubbing the back of his head gently, sensuously, against Demell's neck. It's _remarkably_ pleasant, if you can get past the Wolfrider issues. ** That's a lot of soap. ** Demell chuckles softly and shakes his head. ** No, Wayfound. I meant that I have practice bathing elves...the fur is a new wrinkle, so to speak. ** Demell blinks a little at Trollkillers....response, unsure of exactly how to react to this. "Ah." Wayfound bobs her head in perfect comprehension. "I see." Her head quirks again as she leans her little frame back onto her hands, her palms against the floor. "Thousands of years? Extraordinary. I do not believe I have ever met anyone as old as you before." Trollkiller thinks about it. Thousands. He has no idea what that means, really. ** Um. Thousands... ** He concentrates, idly brushing your thighs with his fingertips, underwater. Something's in the back of his mind... ** Thou... Sweetleaf! ** Trollkiller turns around and looks at Demell. ** Sweetleaf! He was that old. One of my lifemates' brother. ** Trollkiller sends, ** He was born... a little while before me. Not very long. ** Demell thinks for a moment, still rubbing at Trollkiller's shoulders, eyes widening at the touches against his thighs before moving back as Trollkiller turns. ** If he was born only a little while before you, how is it possible that he is thousands of turns old? At my estimation, I'm around four thousand years old... ** Mabye those touches were innocent....Demell doesn't mention them. Wayfound puts in wisely, "Fur-father spent a great deal of time in wrapstuff, which insured that Sweetleaf aged for much time before Fur-father, Fire-father, and Mother finally were freed." Trollkiller mrrrrrs at the shoulder rub. All willed touching is innocent, for Trollkiller, and his is as pure as windblown snow. ** He just lived through it. Outside wrapstuff. I don't know... how to know how long. From Freefoot's tribe. ** He turns back around and snuggles up against your chest, brushing your thighs again. ** Ah, I understand...but in the outside world for so long? It's a wonder he survived for such a long time... ** It's true...fur against skin is a nice feeling and Demell, although he really should be adverse to such things, isn't. Back to shoulder-rubbing. "Sweetleaf, as I am given to understand it, was very close to the High Ones. I did not have the pleasure of making his acquaintance while he lived, although I have periodically sensed his lingering spirit--" Wayfound stops, then, her little face screwing up into a slight grimace as she finds herself having to wonder exactly what has happened to the spirit of her dead uncle, now that the Willowholt has been destroyed. Demell sighs quietly at the rubbing, listening half-way to to the whole conversation and concentrating, a bit too intently, on rubbing this furry elf's back and enjoying the rubbing he's getting in return. Trollkiller mmmmmms and starts rubbing more firmly into Demell's thighs. Very nice indeed. ** Those are nice fingers. You _do_ have practice. ** He his head back against your shoulder... as Wayfound's voice fades to silence, and he's yanked out of the moment. He sighs. ** Spirits... can go where they will. I like to think he'll come with us, when we make our new holt. ** "I would... hope, yes, that our Holt's spirits come with us," Wayfound murmurs uncertainly, a strange tone for this generally self-assured child, at least around her Fur-father. Trollkiller's touch is remarkably skilled, given his ... well, you can't quite say his "age," since technically, he's some 6,000 years old. His life experience. He alternates rubbing into muscle with feather-light brushes along skin, as he sends to Wayfound, ** You can't hurt spirits, either way. If they don't... it'll be because they've found another good place to go. ** "I... cannot imagine a place that Sweetleaf and Father would prefer," Wayfound murmurs, once again sounding a trifle uncertain. Her ambergreen gaze takes in the activities of the pair of male elves, and a flicker of something like restlessness crosses her face. ** I think the same can be said about your fingers... ** Demell sends quietly, still kneading the muscles of Trollkiller's back as he considers what has been said previously. ** Have you seen the shapers, Wayfound? The ones who sit without moving? Their spirits are free, but their bodies remain. When an elf dies, the spirit is free to go where it wills, free from the shackles of life. ** He thinks for a moment, fingers stilling, occasionally brushing up the sides of Trollkiller's neck. ** perhaps they went to visit the palace....or perhaps they can not be sensed... ** Trollkiller shivvers a little. ** I don't think of life as a shackle. ** He slides back along Demell's legs, into his lap, and half-turns so he can work fingers along Demell's chest. ** As for the palace - that's a fair answer. I don't know. ** Trollkiller sends, ** I'm more concerned with the living. I wish the waters would receed. Rainfire is burning his mind out, trying to search through sendings - we need to be able to search, on the ground. ** A wolfrider in his lap. A furry wolfrider in his lap. Stranger things have happened....but right now, Demell can't think of anything that might fit that category. ** Most gliders now choose living. Some do not. ** Wayfound rises, slowly, and answers Demell at the same time, "I have already observed Egg and its shaper, who appears to be referred to as both Egg and Aurek." Her features screw up again into a mild grimace at this strange form of naming. She has her own theories about the whereabouts of the spirits who have lingered around the Willowholt, but between her Fur-father's expressed further concerns and the activity in which he now appears to be engaged with Demell, the child does not express them. "Fur-father, is this an appropriate time for me to leave you alone?" Trollkiller nuzzles into Demell's neck, gently, lips brushing airily along skin. At Wayfound's words, he looks back, concerned. ** Am... ** He shakes his head, and sends privately, for a moment. ** But it's up to you. ** Trollkiller locksends ** Have I upset you? I want to be looking too. But it's all still just water out there. You need attention and I know that, but... I need it too... I certainly don't _want_ you to leave, unless you're just bored... ** Wayfound nibbles her lower lip, looking more like a child than she has in this entire visit to the pool, and peers back at Trollkiller in a way that suggests she's answering sending. Her little brows knit together in consternation, and then her shoulders square themselves as she endeavors to straighten up and look stoic. Oooohhh...That is nice. Even though his body is fuzzy, his face isn't. Very nice. You locksend ** I... ... will not be able to provide you the kind of attention you require, Fur-father, and... I assure you, I am not upset. I am accustomed to going elsewhere when tribesmates engage in joining activities. ** ** to Trollkiller. Trollkiller locksends ** If you're sure that's all it is... ** Trollkiller rubs his chest against Demell's - his fur is _very_ soft. And even tho' it's quite damp, it hasn't really fallen into flatness. And he's warm, quite warm, as he licks at the lobe of Demell's ear. Wayfound smiles, a tiny crooked smile, but a smile nonetheless. She inclines her head to Trollkiller, very likely in answer to something unspoken, and then announces, "Please excuse me; I shall give you both a measure of privacy now. Fur-father, I will go no farther than the hall in which we have been encamped; if I do, I shall be certain to send to you of my whereabouts. Demell, it was nice to make your acquaintance." With that, then, the little elfling turns and takes her leave. Any other child might scamper; this one merely solemnly departs. [And en route, Wayfound encounters her other father -- and with Woodhawk's permission, takes the opportunity to visit the Egg once more. But as the cub and her Fire-father head that way, they encounter another of the visitors to the Mountain... as well as its Lord.] You move north, into the main hall. Main Hall The room rises up round, walls idle in their shape, with little regard to gravity, and fluid stone columns drip from the ceiling to floor, curving and twisting into deep blue shadows. The massive room is dim, lit only at the far side, where rises the skeleton of a great bird, hovering protectively over the throne of Blue Mountain's Lord. Deep, wide stairs rise up to greet the throne, stopping many feet below, leaving no evident manner of ascending the seat. From time to time, elves flit in and out, through hallways and through narrow, ribboned holes in the walls, high above the floor. Contents: Kaer Summit Winnowill Obvious exits: Into The Air Northeastern Hall Western Hall Southern Hall Winnowill is seated, silently musing over some thing or other. She would have preferred Calmwind be the one accompanying her to the Egg, but as it happens, Wayfound will settle for her Fire-father. Woodhawk, as he walks alongside the youngster, might be noted to smile faintly at his daughter's exposition upon the strange observed results of prolonged studying of the egg -- for indeed, Wayfound is holding forth, since Woodhawk is one of the few people in the Willowholt who seems to actually like to listen to her talk. He doesn't make nearly so noticeable a height difference when compared to his child, though. Winnowill's glance falls upon the two Willowholters. Perhaps there is a glint of something calculating as she regards the firestarter who should have been Hers. At any rate, it is a fleeting glimmer in an otherwise pleasant and imperturbable expression. She does not intrude upon the conversation at this time. Rangy firestarter and sturdy little cub come into earshot, the echoes of the child's voice carrying well despite her attempting to speak relatively softly as she observes to be the habit of her elders. "While I... must admit that I do find the need to go accompanied in this place a trifle chafing, Fire-father, in this case I can see the wisdom of having someone at hand in case what effects Calmwind experienced also befall me," she pipes. In the meantime, Woodhawk, ever the alert hunter, scans the big chamber with his gold-flecked brown gaze -- and espies Winnowill there, on high upon her throne. He reaches out a hand to tap Wayfound's shoulder, redirecting her attention and bringing her to a momentary halt. "Greetings," the Willowholt hunter calls out politely, though his expression is fairly neutral. Winnowill inclines her head, a slight smile playing about her lips. "Ah, my welcomed guests. Have you found your stay here to your liking thus far?" Wayfound blinks, just a touch impatiently, as she is distracted from her efforts to try to occupy her mind while her Fur-father occupies... er, other things. But she is certainly aware of the need to be polite to the chief -- or in this case, the Lord -- of a tribe giving her people shelter, and so she echoes Woodhawk's tone, piping up, "Hello, Lord Winnowill." Woodhawk, then, lays a leanly muscled hand upon the child's shoulder and goes on, "We're safe, warm, and dry, and that's to be liked, aye." Winnowill's peacock eyes glint briefly ** It pleases me to hear your appreciation of the safety in these walls. There was a time that few of your tribe could have expressed such a sentiment. It is, I hope, the dawn of a new era of relations between our peoples. ** Now, Woodhawk considers himself a simple hunter who happens to have a knack for setting things on fire when he looks at them. The intricacies of tribal politics are not something he usually cares to deal with -- but this is not to say that he doesn't have the ability to handle diplomacy if he has to, _especially_ when it comes to Winnowill. He smiles a bit, inclining his head a single time. "Well, your tribe's been good to us and no mistake. I think it's safe to say Rillwhisper will be most relieved, once we find her." Wayfound peers up at Woodhawk, and then over at Winnowill. "Which," she puts in, "is an excellent opportunity to inquire as to the level of the waters at the Holt. Lord Winnowill, have your Chosen made any new reports?" Winnowill inclines her head to Wayfound, "They have indicated that the waters are yet receeding. Unfortunately no others have been found in the holt itself." Neither hunter nor child allow themselves to display much overt emotion at this news; it may be supposed, even, that Woodhawk has served as a model of emotional displays, if he's had as much of a hand in Wayfound's raising as her being Rillwhisper's daughter would imply. "Thank you," Woodhawk then says, just a trifle gruffly. "We are most grateful," Wayfound agrees. Then, her impatience for the Egg returning, she goes on, "Fire-father and I were on our way to the Egg room. Is that chamber open at all times?" Winnowill smiles. "Always. Would you care for some company?" She raises her brows and turns to Kaer, as if their previous silent exchange might be concluded with a more social conversation with the other guests. [Kaer's net was being hellacious at the time of this RP -- and Winnowill's player had to go to bed anyway; ergo, we concluded the log here.]