The Clarity of Life

[Kaseira]

Shouldn't be that much longer, she thought. The woman picked her way carefully through the brush, the foliage here not being as thick as the thickest forests, but easily presenting itself as a reasonable barrier for those not familiar with woodland areas. The soft clink of chainmail rings meshing together could be heard, if one listened distinctly for it, as her motions took her closer to her destination. The suit was slightly too large for her, as her frame was indeed small, but she made due with the protection it afforded. A metal shirt was fitted over a comfortable leather tunic, and the weight of the shirt, draped thusly, shaped the outline of her form nicely. Tanned skin and smooth, graceful curves led down to wider hips hugged by comfortable, soft leather of the same material and make of her tunic.

Because of Kaseira's height and the diminutive nature of her person, she could not be considered anything less than elven. Indeed, even now, the more prominent of her features hid in the shadowed confines of her hood, the entirety of the cloak flowing down her backside and stopping just shy of where boots met dirt. The rain beat down on that hood in an audible patter, the drops of moisture racing groundward, sometimes finding purchase within the few soft tresses of the elf's hair that escaped the respite such a cowl afforded. Almond shaped, emerald colored eyes peered outward, accentuating the delicate and naturally beautiful features of the she-elf.

It had been a fortnight since she left The High Moor, and a full moon had passed since her leaving of the High Forest on foot. She knew, according to the map she carried, that she would soon be getting close to Baldur's Gate, her first real city. Perhaps only a day's walk away now, she calculated, coming to a brief stop though the urge to continue crossed her mind. As the forest began to turn sparse and she approached what could be assumed a tree line, she spied something in the distance. Across a short ravine, and then about a ten minute walk away, there appeared to be a cottage or house of some sorts, fenced in; maybe it was the mark of a farmer, or maybe not. While it was daytime, true, the pouring rain continued to make sight far from crystal clear. Either way, may as well skirt this one. Resolute in her decision, she began to think about what she would first do upon her arrival into Baldur's Gate when...

*SNAP*


To the elven ears, the sound of a twig was loud and clear over the din of the rain's steady cadence. Immediately, recognition filled her eyes and alertness tensed her muscles, her body bursting into action as she dove into the nearest bush. The preserving instinct of the wood elves pulsed through her veins as her mind raced with the precepts of combat. For many moments, steady eyes peered out from the bush, looking for signs of danger, ready for anyt-...

...silence, except the droning pat of the rain.

Pat.

Pitterpat.

Pat-pat-pat.

...And thats when she heard them.

[Kaseira]

"We ain't s'posed ta be out this far from Den," argued Fhred, calmly, resolutely, though it took every bit of his will to stand up to his more intelligent friend. The rain beat against his hide armor unrelenting in its torrent, soaking to the bone where it met uncovered fur. He was cold and hungry, but far colder than hungry, and that meant discretion ruled out. He didn't want to be here. The skin on his snout twitched, and a copious amount of spittle escaped his jagged teeth, sliding down, down to muddy earth, like so much rain already had. "Ain't s'posed ta be..." he started again, but much quieter this time, as if knowing full well the futility of his actions.

"Then how we gunna eat, you ever think a that? Huh?" the larger of the two barked, but not too loudly. He didn't understand what made Fhred so much of a...what was the word... chicken. Delicious. He began to drool just thinking about it and the delightful sounds, the pops and the crunches, the texture of the bones as he chewed. The warm saltiness of the blood. Chicken would be tasty right about now. But he didn't have chicken. No, instead, he had a wet pelt and an empty belly, and the mind to remedy both somewhere in this forest. "Can't go back without food. Not to Den. The hoo-mans up n' left around Den anyway. Gotta go this far."

With the biggest, most resigned sigh a gnoll could heave, Fhred conceded defeat. Ka'Ted had presented an argument he knew to be true, and Fhred was fully congizant of what would happen if they returned to the Den without food. When they first moved into the area, the humans were easy pickings, but food had become more scarce as they depleted their 'supply'. While they usually hunted at night, hardly anyone traveled then; the chances of catching a merchant unawares, or a farm child gone astray, was greater in the day. So here they found themselves, in the damn rain no less.

"C'mon, let's keep a move on," Ka'Ted suggested as they both began walking, the black fur of his snout wrinkling up as he spoke. "Maybe more farmland up this way, or somethin'..." the gnoll's tongue lolling out of his mouth as his lips moved, the language sounding nothing more than what would be crude gibberish to a human, but perfectly understandable to his brethren. Ka'Ted didn't carry any weapons, at least not in any true true sense of the word, but he was intimidating aplenty standing at seven feet tall, and vicious to boot. Maybe they would find food up ahead, maybe some cows, or a sheep or two, or even a chicken.

They passed several trees, the shorter gnoll keeping his eyes on them suspiciously, as if he expected one of them to come alive at any moment and attack. He never trusted forests, especially when it was raining, and the rain continued to beat endlessly upon them. "Kinda hard ta see, ya kn..-" he began, but was cut off by a warning smack to his arm by the other gnoll. He looked at Ka'Ted questioningly.

Quietly, the larger gnoll responded, "Thought I saw someone up ahead, c'mon, let's get em. Quiet." Fhred, the short one, nodded his agreement, thinking they may finally find release from this damnable rain-soaked prison. Almost silently, they picked their way through the brush following the flicker of a figure here, the remnant of an outline there; it was still somewhat hard to see in the downcast rain pour of the dimly lit forest. All the while, the constant sound of the rain and the crackle of distant thunder helped to mask what sounds they couldn't contain.

*SNAP*

Except that one.

The larger gnoll gave a side-long glance to Fhred. "I said be quiet!" he growled through clenched, razor-sharp teeth, a forceful emphasis on the last word. The short gnoll returned a helpless, if not apologetic look. The larger one waved his hand, motioning them forward. Within but a few moments more, they found themselves nearing a short ravine with a house situated amongst a clearing in the distance. "Don't think it was nobody," Ka'Ted guessed, "or either you scared 'em off with your tromping."

"Least we found somethin'." The gnoll, gripping his mace in response, walked the few steps it took to move him closer to the short ravine and pointed the blunt weapon up at the lonely looking house. "We go in there 'an kill 'im, take 'es food and head back," Fhred plotted, the saliva forming in his mouth at the mere thought of warm flesh touching his tongue. He could almost smell it already, his wet nose sniffing the humid air, the creature's most trusted sense leading his gaze instinctively to the bush a scant few inches to his left. He looked there, momentarily, blinking in silent disbelief, the stream of rain cascading down around him.

Pat.

Pitterpat.

Pat-pat-pat.

...And that's when he saw her.

[Kaseira]

Like the explosion of an active volcano raining its fiery doom down upon whatever village lie in waiting, wherein that instant they may only stop and stare in abject horror for moments, unable to look away or protest, stunned in terror and bearing witness as their life is no more... so too did the gnoll look as the wicked she-elf lunged from the bushes. The splash of recognition, of instinct, that would have leapt into his mind to take control of his autonomous actions was cut off, severed by the searing pain his nervous system pulsed through his brain. He tried to scream, but no words would form, his lips availing only a too-fitting silence. Managing the only thing he could, a gurgle, he clutched at his throat, feeble attempts to stifle the essence spurting rapidly from his veins. His life flashed, and then he crumpled to the dirt in a heap, mind and body no more.

Many feet away, the taller gnoll had witnessed it. He saw his friend walk to the ravine and stop, saw him stand there. He saw the elf appear, and in one motion as she drew her blade, he saw the flash of steel and red that trailed after. And then he saw Fhred, a lifeless husk lying still in the rain. Saw him live and then die, even as the words he'd spoken moments before still hung fresh in his mind. The last words the taller gnoll would ever hear his friend say. Now, he saw anger. White hot anger... and fear, which is the fuel of desperation. The seven foot gnoll burst into an explosion of movement, charging the elf and covering the distance between them in hopes of catching her before she could react. He succeeded in this. As they collided, he raised a hand, death poised and ready to swipe with razor claws, but she ducked under as a last course of action, plunging her shoulder square into the abdomen of the gnoll. The ensuing force of the gnoll's charge sent them both tumbling over the edge of the ravine.

In the wake of the realization of falling, time often feels the need to halt its advance, if only for but a moment, though it would only be several seconds before they met unforgiving, hard earth. Neither stirred for a time. The gnoll was the first to move, shaking his head and blinking his eyes, his blood still boiling with rage. He spied the elf there, lying face down, unmoving as the rain beat down upon her callously, that force of nature uncaring where or who it fell upon. Resolved to tear her delicate limbs apart, he found the strength to push himself up off his chest, but he was struggling with the difficulty of it. The tell-tale signs of an oozing red liquid staining the muddy dirt underneath quickly clued him in on something as he hoisted himself up; the hilt of the accursed elf's weapon was visibly protruding from his chest. It was all he could do to stay propped up like he did, the strength fleeing his muscles as his body reeled from shock. Soon after, the rage died in his eyes along with the last remnants of life that took up shelter there.

The elf regained what remained of her shaken senses momentarily, and as the dark edges clouding her vision slowly retreated, paving way for blurry, rain-soggy eyes, so too did the stillness fade. The sense of disorientation, of movement, filled her. She spoke words, but she didn't understand the language, and doubted, or would have if she'd had the thought to at the time, that it was even intelligible. The feeling of being lifted up flitted across her mind, and as she felt that warm blanket of unconscioussness beckon, she let it wrap around herself once again. The last thing that pierced the comforting warmth was the feeling that she was not alone.

[Kaseira]

With much deliberation, as though her eyelids bore great weights, she stirred. The makeshift dam of pain and trauma developed a crack, and as a trickle of conciousness bled through, slowly, but surely, followed a deluge of awareness all flooding back to the elf. Her eyes flew open, wide and crazed, suddenly remembering all that had occured. Immediately she found herself in an upright position, her legs and arms powerless, for they were bound, like herself, to the chair she was sitting in. Struggle as she might, she could not wiggle loose, and it was then that she noticed the distinct absence of something in particular; the rain was gone. It was after this that she surveyed her surroundings with any sense of clarity for the first time.

A table, some chairs, a dish cabinet full of what appeared to be wooden utensils: these were the items she first layed eyes on. Turning her head, she was able to determine that the building was relatively small. A couple of pelts for makeshift rugs had been draped unceremoniously in arbitrary places on the floor. Shelves for storage space decorated the bare walls, and a bed against the far wall behind her completed the line up. The fireplace beside her hissed with life, at least providing her some comfort of warmth and a sense of companionship. The crackling from the fire broke the silence, at least, and shed some light on her situation, something the windows, which she noted were covered up, failed to do.

For the time being, it would appear that whoever had rescued her, if it could even be called that, had vanished. Now, the wood elf went about deciding a plan of escape. There wasn't any way she was untying these bonds, that much was certain. Her feet only met the floor at the ends of her toes, which would make it impossible to simply get up and walk away while tied to the chair. Maybe she could hop to the door? Doubtful she would get far before her unlikely savior returned, anyway. "Damnit." It forced its way out through clenched teeth, almost as if in resignation. With a hop of her weight, she was able to move her body and the chair perhaps a sliver of an inch forward. Again, but this time she teetered precariously on the edge of tipping, her center of balance righting itself just in time. "That's a no go, too," she said as she peered into the fireplace. The dancing flames simply crackled and popped, as if in mock agreement.

Hours passed, or what felt like it anyway, time once again slipping another ace from its sleeve. "Why is that, anyway?" she asked of no one in particular. Just to be sure, the elf dubiously looked around the structure's insides yet again. Bed, table, chairs, cupboard, shelves: they were all quiet and all accounted for. "Why is it that when in waiting, Eternity beckons, but when blissfully unaware, Circumstance rears its head?" The fire just crackled, the very avatar of change. She didn't stop there. "What more reason to implicate a better system?" Then, as a frown spread across her lips, she added, "At least one that doesn't involve waiting."

To her surprise, the sounds of the turning handle and opening door heralded the entry of a shadowy figure. The trouble with that though, Kaseira was still facing the wrong direction, and as it was she could only manage to turn her head to the right and look at the intruder, a man, from the corner of her eye. He spoke no words, dutifully setting about the task of removing his boots, the wet foot prints evident on the floor. Finished, he strode towards the bed and out of the vision of the spying elf as she was forced to turn her head all the way to the left if she wanted to continue viewing. The man slumped down onto the bed there in the far corner, lying still. Curiously, she stared as best she could with her position, waiting for an action, any action. He took none. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer.

"Is that it? You nab me, tie me up so I can't get away, and now you're just going to sleep there on that shabby bed without even so much as a peep." It wasn't a question, more stated matter-of-factly, and the indignation of it all shone clear in her voice. She waited, hoping to get a reply, but none came. "Not very good with first impressions, eh boss?"

"Are you going to shut the hell up or shall I gag you and save myself the trouble?" The man responded, unmoving. The force of his outburst was so sudden that it caught her offguard.

"Just wanted to know the voice of my hero," the elf girl shot back.

"Splendid, now be silent." His response came too quickly, almost cutting her off as she finished the last word in her sentence. Would have, if it was any longer. She remained in contemplation for a time, staring at the wall and blinking every so often. It wasn't long until the rhythmic breathing sounds of the man covered their silence, and once again she found herself alone save for the reassuring embrace of the crackling fire.

[Kaseira]

The rain poured and the trumpets blared magnificently, thundering off into the distance and heralding her arrival. Everyone already knew who she was. This elf had saved them, and they sought to fight amongst the front lines of the crowd to get a glimpse of her as she walked through the formation of ceremonially armed guards. She wore the most splendid chain shirt any of them had ever seen; it was most likely mithril, if one had to guess, and marked with runes all throughout. The way it gleamed as it hugged her body was glorious, a true vision of beauty, this elf. As the crowd laid eyes on her, all the men fell in love with her; all the women were jealous.

She made her way under the canopy of swords raised in her honor, and just as she began to approach the palace, intimidating in its beauty, a red carpet rolled out, ending just at the toe of her boots. The rain beat down and the crowd cheered wildly as she took her first step and strode into the inviting air of the palace. There, she was accosted by the prince himself ushering her into the banquet hall as he bowed gracefully. What an honor such was, because princes typically didn't spend their time ushering, but any expense was none too great for her. Already the food was out, and it smelled absolutely delectable; the king sat there on the row, among many other nobles, eyes all turned to her. There was one empty seat at the head of the table, the most pronounced position, and it was all in her name.

As a hushed silence fell about the room, the king gestured his hand to the empty space, looking at the Hero as he spoke.

"Eat this, damnit."

What an odd thing for a king to say. She simply stood there, unsure of what to think or do, as all eyes gazed upon her with breathless anticipation. The food looked and smelled marvelous, certainly, so with only another moment's hesitation she quietly made her to way to the empty seat. The raucous joyment began, ending the silence, all of the nobles and princes enjoying each other's company as she took her seat. She picked up what looked to be a roasted chicken leg and, just as she was about to bite into it the king looked directly into her eyes again.

"Eat it, or else."

What the hell was his problem? Suddenly the room was thrown into turmoil and chaos, though nobody seemed to give any indication anything was wrong except for her. She couldn't move, and her eyes darted frantically looking for anyway to escape. Everything was swirling, fading into mist, and she tried to get up and run, tried to-....

"Fine, but if you don't eat it then I will."

Kaseira's eyes opened slowly as she looked around the room, discovering she was still inside a lived-in but run-down small house. She attempted to move her arms and legs to no avail, still tied in place to the chair, as the last remnants of the dream faded from her mind's grasp. On her knees in front of her sat a wooden bowl, a roasted chicken leg placed inside. She eyed it, hungrily, but wasn't exactly sure how she was supposed to go about eating it. She looked up, discovering the man from last night sitting only a foot away from her and eating some chicken of his own. He payed only scant attention to her as he ate. The man was probably around her age, according to human standards at least, except that he couldn't have been full human. Two small horns protruded from his messy black hair, complimenting his dark eyes. He wore simple clothing, a red tunic over white shirt combination and brown leather pants to compliment, likely for ease of movement and comfort. He was larger than her, of that much she was certain, though it was hard to gauge with him sitting. For a...a whatever he was...he looked handsome, though he reminded her of the tales concerning the demon elves of Hellgate Keep in her home Forest.

He was tired of her roving eyes while he was eating. "It's not really nice to stare, especially at me," the condescending venom clear in his voice. He had finished what he was chewing before he spoke, but not because of any semblance of manners; it was just that the chicken tasted good. Food usually does when a man hasn't eaten in a little over a day. His voice seemed to have the desired effect, for she looked down at the bowl of chicken in her lap. He took another bite, a small one, as he watched her.

"You know," she began, tentatively, "there's not really a way for me to eat this being that my hands are all tied up, and I'm feeling a little hungry myself." To her surprise, he gave a grunt, and reached over to pick up the chicken in her lap, holding it up to her mouth. This really wasn't what she had in mind, but she supposed it would work. The elf bit into the exposed meat of the chicken, waiting to savor the juices and delicate roasting of the flavors, and....it was overcooked. Dry, hardly juicy, and with a burnt aftertaste, just a tinge, it could hardly be called perfection. But it was food. She finished chewing and ate as much as she dared, leaving little left on the bone as he held it there over the course of the several moments it took. "Thanks," she added, after she was done, though really it wouldn't have been necessary if he only had afforded her control of her hands.

He nodded, and went back to his own meal. She scratched her head in contemplation, or at least, imagined that she would have done so, if able. "So, why am I tied up again?" She asked, genuine in her questioning.

The demon-man made no sudden movements, merely the effort in which it took to provide an answer. "Because I don't trust you...," he let hang there momentarily, before adding in, "...or your kind."

Unabashed, she tried a different approach. "So, what's your name? I'm Kaseira, which I would've told you if we'd been introduced properly. Speaking of which, what happened, and how did you find me?"

He finished his bowl of food and sat it aside, leaning back in his chair to regard her questions evenly as he did so. "Ok...Kaseira." He frowned. "Now why did you have to go and give me a name?" He didn't sound pleased, but decided to answer her question anyways. "I was leaving here when I saw you out back by the ravine, you and that gnoll. Saw the both of you go down, so I went to investigate." He stopped here, as if the story was over, but soon after continued again. "The gnoll was dead when I got there; he fell on the sword. I figured you wouldn't make it, but I picked you up and took you here anyway, in case you woke up." He finished the rest of the story in his thoughts, leaving the two in silence for a while as his eyes met hers. Shouldn't have. Why would I care what happens to her kind? If the tables had been turned...

"Did you find my sword?" she said, her voice melodic as she interrupted him from inner reverie.

"Yeah." This was all that he answered, and it became apparant to her that it would be all he would be willing to give on the matter. At least, for now.

"You don't look much like a farmer, so where ya getting food?" After all, if this was the same house she'd seen not too far from the ravine, she didn't remember seeing any crops in the field. Most likely, if anything, this place had been abandoned before its new tenant had arrived, though the matter of where he got his food was still out.

His red eyes seemed to bore into hers, as if attempting to size her up for the first time. Finally, he shot back, "What does it matter? It's edible." On this point, she felt there could be argument, but she decided for her own good will not to press the matter further. There was still the matter of what she was doing here that needed to be answered, and it found its way to the forefront of her mind.

"What do you plan on doing with me? I am, afterall, harmless." She'd hoped to at least draw him out into revealing more information about himself, in time. For now, she would attempt to appear uncalculating. She imagined all of the things he could do with her, running up what became a sizeable list. Some weren't all that preferable, really. If he was feeding her, he at least didnt intend to kill her. Yet, anyway.

He stood up, walking over to a shelf and picking out one of the few books there. The spine and binding of it were both blue, and for all intents and purposes it was simplistic in design. Steadily he walked over to the bed to take a seat, and as he did so, left the view of the forcefully seated elf.

"That matter depends on you. I could kill you, and I should. Maybe tomorrow. But now I'm trying to read, so shut up."

She was struck with the imminent possibility of what she had hoped would prove false. Half-heartedly she struggled against her bonds, but made no headway. She found herself contemplating her next course of conversation with the man, though she felt her fate would be left to his hands.

What would come in the next few days would ultimately prove the truth.

[Kaseira]

"So how do you feel?" the elf girl asked. The chair was wooden, well-crafted but not particularly comfortable, and her wrists were still bound by rope to the arms of it. She was extremely tired of this same position, eager to stretch her legs once again, or explore the rain-drenched land outside. It had already been a day since her and the horned man had last spoken. He'd picked up his book and read silently, falling asleep for hours as though exhausted beyond relief. Night had come and gone. She'd never seen a human sleep before, not that he was human, but still, she wondered if all other creatures recuperated in this manner. The elves typically did not sleep, and she could not say she'd had any experience with it herself; Reverie was a meditative trance lasting only a couple of hours, something that all elves participated in to rest. It was no wonder why she was so interested in it, and for that very reason she had listened to the man in his sleep, fitfully as it was.

"How do I feel about what?" He was awake, that much was clear. He still lay in bed, unblinking and staring at the ceiling. The book from before had fallen to the floor, forgotten, pushed aside as he shifted his weight throughout the night. Oddly enough, the edge in his voice from previous days was gone. His annoyance seemed less. Now would be the perfect time for questioning, she garnered.

"Seemed like you had a time last night. Did you even get any sleep?" She would have turned to look at him as she talked, except her chair was still facing away from the corner in which his bed lie. The fire beside her had long since died away, the last remaining coal consuming itself from within hours ago. Ironic, she thought, for the very thing that gave it life must also, inevitably, expend its very core.

"Yeah. Plenty." After a few seconds of silence, he appended this. "Some."

She waited.

"Ok, hardly any," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "But what would you know?"

"What would I know of what?" She shot back. Finally, this was going somewhere.

"What would you know of living a lie." It wasn't a question, and she thought about this for several moments. He already knew the answer. At least, he thought he did. Often the fall of mortals, thinking they have it all worked out, all polished to a sheen, only to have everything crack and break in time.

"I might know everything," she paused, waiting for a response. Sure enough, she heard the sound of what must have been him turning to regard her more closely. "And I might know nothing."

"See, you don't know shit about what it's like being m-..."

She cut him off. "We are shaped by our will. No life is a lie, except in the lie itself. Through living we choose, and through choosing we live. Our life may be fast, short, abundant or dismal, but it is in choosing that we make it so. It is what it is, because we will it, deem it, shape it and temper it. Your life is no lie. Don't pretend it is such."

"Listen, asshole, you don't know a damn thing about running everyday with cries of 'Demon worshiper! Kill him, hang the devil!" biting at your back as you flee for your miserable life." He sounded pissed off. Her desired affect, though truthfully she hoped her words would sink in. "So I don't want to hear any shit nonsense about choosing destiny. Destiny picks you, and then it punishes you relentlessly!" Yeah, definately pissed.

"So what's your lie? That you're not a demon worshiper? That you don't delight in taking life?" She attempted to turn the chair around so she could actually look at him as she said this. In response, he actually got off the bed and quickly crossed the distance between them. For a split second, she thought maybe her questioning had come to an end and he might mean her harm. She was proven wrong when he took a seat in front of her.

"Aren't you even a little scared that I might kill you right now? Right now. End your little diatribe completely." Her skin tingled with his nearness, as it had before. Almost like an itching sensation. It wasn't terribly uncomfortable, but enough so to call it to her attention.

"If you meant to kill me, you missed many a chance." She sought his eyes, her emerald against the tiefling's onyx. "How long have you been out here alone?"

He leaned back, throwing a smirk on. "Couple months." His anger seemed to melt as fast as it boiled.

"First person you've spoken to since when?" She tilted her head in sincerity.

"Long time. Leave it at that." He looked away. "How about you?"

"Oh, you know. Passing through, figured I'd get myself attacked then tied up. Usual fare."

Heaving a sigh as he said, "Ya planned according," pushing himself up with his hands on his legs, he stood. He already started walking to the door. Her eyes followed. "Welp, gotta go get some food."

"Just gonna leave me here? I might get free." She let those last words linger, as if they held some truth.

He didn't turn around as he grabbed several items nearby, one of which appeared to be a sword, another a cloak. "You won't."

"What's your name?"

He gave pause, just standing there with his back turned momentarily. Shrugging, he continued his routine preparations as he always did so before leaving. "Doesn't matter." A hint of bitterness struck chord in his voice.

"Yes it does. What's your name?"

He opened the door, stepping out. The sound that accompanied booted footsteps, rustling cloak and the harsh whisper of a hinge in need of oil, came just one in voice: "Erevin."

[Kaseira]

Visions of unicorns and mermaids danced in the hollowed halls of her head, a silent mishmash of fantasy and happy times, blissful times. As is often in the case of a child's imagination, dreams and peaceful tranquility can be quite real, tangible without the weight of the world and all of its monstrosity to bog it down. Whisked away in such a magical place, she slept without err until a tingling ray of sunshine, no more obtrusive than the fleeting sound of a butterfly, crept up her face in idle time. With subtle grace, it tickled her nose, that faint warmth of nature's caress beckoning, reassuring of the wonders, too, in the waking world. Involuntarily she swatted at nothing, a weak gesture, before rubbing her face with the backside of the same hand. While it proved a formidable opponent against the outreach of the sun, her own movement (however unintended) stirred a presence within her mind. That very presence coalesced into awareness for the self, the surreal fading, the dream shattered by the very fabric of being. As her eyes flitted open, the last remnants of the passing night faded away, dying. It was of no consequence. For carefree, happy children, dreams were in no small supply.

Excitement struck her heart, pulsed through her veins, and with one smooth motion the covers flew off. Dawn had already washed over the land, the birds chirping in the trees, audible now that her mind was free from the grasp of nocturne. At the foot of her bed, man's best friend was abruptly awakened by a sudden, unpronounced flash flood of reversed covers and blanketing. They closed in, the old hound's writhing giving life to the heaping, shapeless mass of imprisonment, but the animal's struggles went unnoticed. The girl was busy slipping on an over-shirt and britches, before she realized the truth of her companion's predicament. One giggle later, the little girl plucked the warm covers free, only to be met with a cold nose immediately peeking out from under, as if it had already been on the trail to freedom but couldn't muster the rest to follow.

"Oh Bessy, you silly girl," she said, giving the hound a welcome pat. "What would you do without me?"

The answer came in wet form, Bessy affectionately licking at the girl's arm.

"C'mon girl. Lots to do today!" The hound watched as the girl skipped away, heading for the main living room of the farmstead. She looked at the floor from her position on the bed, then back at the fading view of the girl. She always hated making these jumps. Always.

Blazing through the living room with kid speed, the young girl almost made it to the exit of the house before something stopped her dead in her tracks.

"How many times have I told you? No running in the house!" Uh oh. It was the sound of her mother, and she had that tone in her voice. "Caralai? I mean it now," the woman finished.

Caralai turned to face her mother. "I'm sorry, mum. Can I go play now?" She attempted her most sincere look of apology. It could have softened the hardest of criminals, but mothers know best. She was blocking the exit, and must have been coming in from outside.

"You may. But don't stray too far." Though there was a stern tone to her voice, she gave little Caralai an affectionate swat on the back as she passed. She just smiled to herself as the girl ran off. She'd come in to fix a cup of water for her husband and her son; both had been working hard out in the field since daybreak. A lot of rain had come in the last few days, though today was much different, so they were eager to put in a large amount of work.

Thwump!

Something hit the floor. Moments later, Bessy came plodding out of her girl's room, trailing behind. The brown and black furred hound took the same path as Caralai, cutting straight for the exit, floppy ears and all. The mother just shook her head, continuing with her task. Lifting the clay pitcher, she watched the cool water flow out in a steady, unbroken stream as she filled first one, then the second carved wooden cup. She wondered how the dog, in her older age, managed to keep up with the bundle of energy that was Caralai. That girl could disappear in a flash. Picking up the two cups and heading back, she thought about her memory of the day they first received the hound from a neighbor; Caralai had been five then. She insisted on naming her Bessy, even though her brother was convinced such was a cow's name, not a fitting name for a blood hound. Nevertheless, the insatiable little girl prevailed. Bessy was six, now.

After leaving the house and rounding the field, the older woman dressed in simple clothes spotted her husband working with a pile of wooden planks at the end of an unfinished fence. He stopped his ministrations momentarily and looked up at her approach.

"Thanks, Ree," he began graciously, wiping sweat off his brow with the cloth of his forearm. Today was thick with humidity after all the raining, not that it wasn't hot either. He accepted the cool cup of water and drank it, letting the crisp liquid flow down. Moments later, a younger man with blond hair and a broad build, Mitch, walked up.

"Thanks mum!" There was a lighthearted tone to his voice, as though nothing could do to dampen his spirits. "Eventually we'll finish up this fence, I think."

Ree shifted her weight and crossed her arms, rolling her eyes at the notion. "Well, if you ever do get it finished, I don't think it'll keep out that thief that's been making off with chickens and what else."

"I'm just thankful its not been us. So some of our neighbors lost some chickens, and one a cow? I think its a wild animal, myself... and that's what this fence is all about," replied her husband, handing the cup back to her in the process. Will had lived out here a long time. He knew how to build almost anything they could ever need, and he'd been working on his current project, this fence, for weeks, maybe months. He was making good headway, what with having to cut down the lumber and size them up before coating them all with a special concoction to keep the rain out. The fence already encircled them on three sides, and if not for the recent torrent of rain he may well be done by now. All that really concerned him was protecting his family and their way of life.

"Where do you suppose Caralai ran off to?" Ree asked the question as if she fully expected the girl to have been found out here, making noise and distracting the men from their work.

Will grinned before setting back to his arduous task. "Aww, let the girl play, Ree. You're only young once." He wasn't able to see the undisputed look his wife shot him, but he must have felt its presence burning a hole in his back. "Mitch, go find your sister."

The young man gave a sigh and slumped, but did as he was told at the request of his father. There's no telling where that girl could have disappeared off to. She loved to explore, though to be fair Mitch had to admit her intellect and resourcefulness in finding ways to keep herself entertained. As he began to walk off in search, something stopped him, finding him first. A scream reached his ears, the scream of someone off in the distance. The scream of someone in trouble, someone in pain...

...and it sounded an awful lot like Caralai.

[Kaseira]

A smooth, black stone went flying through the air, propelled by something it could have never anticipated... had it possessed just such an ability in the first place. It hit the grass once, bouncing, before hitting a second time and rolling forward in a most hurried fashion, almost as if fleeing for its very life at some misunderstood slight. Losing momentum, it mingled amongst a gravel bed for but a scant moment, standing out against those stones different from itself like a foreign jewel...or perhaps a hideous abomination. It rounded the downward cresting arc of the dirt and continued on its way down, down into the ravine, down tumbling by a force far out of its control, beyond its comprehension. It disappeared into the calm stream below awaiting it at the end of its path, the last remnants of its effects sending an outward rush of concentric ripples; enough so to gently nudge free a vibrant, green leaf which had been floating there, stuck for a time against one of the many varied obstacles in its course. Without hesitation the leaf was pulled away, departing in soft, silent farewell.

The dark haired man stayed silent for a time, before looking down amongst the stones as if to pick out and throw another. He decided against it, kicking at them instead and sending the lot all fleeing in terror. "Damnit all!" he screamed, the words pouring from his lips and emphasizing the action all too well. He'd been found out. What was he supposed to do? He should have already killed her, but something stayed his hand. Maybe it was the eyes, maybe it was something else. He started walking.

"Kaseira." The word just came out, though invariably no one would have heard it, save himself. It was a test. "Is it too much to ask to be left alone?" He didn't expect an answer. Why couldn't it be so? He breathed out a soft exhalation, conceding a sigh. It always seemed to be that way. When would his time be? What had he done?

The man shrugged as if he didn't know, or perhaps it was a way of loosening the clothing fast sticking to his neck and back, a reminder rain set in place. Making the tree line, he looked over his shoulder up at the house, his house, in the distance. Run down for the most part, but home nonetheless. It was a shield to the outside world, or maybe the world's shield from him. In it lay the elf, Kaseira. She'd be there when he got back. He left only when he needed food, water, or both, preferring to stay within his confines and read...and live.

"Some life," he mused, bitterly. Turning back, his dark eyes focused as the pupils ever so gradually slid from left to right, as if trying to see it all, the grass and trees, all of it, in a different light. Grass growing nearly two feet tall heard his musings, and the trees may have agreed with him, but only the sound of the rustling wind came in reply. Not good enough, really.

"What's the point?" The tree line stood ominously before him, a darkened portal which could lead no where and everywhere. Erevin knew the direction of some of the other outlying farms, their communities being tigher knit, though it was always a wonder why whatever poor sap had lived in the house before him had chosen to build it so far away from everyone else. Maybe the world had hated him, too.

His dark-skinned hand slid down and gripped the pommel at his side; the elf's sword. It didn't seem spectacular in any way, but it was a weapon after all. He'd never needed one before, despite the dagger he kept hidden away in his boot at all times during previous excursions. The crunch of dying leaves hailed him as he stepped onward into the darkness. He didn't possess any tracking skill, but he'd find his way by memory alone. The tiefling never had a problem remembering anything and everything he saw, experienced, or felt. It was like a great desert unfathomable in length, the sand keeping record of every track, every impression traversed upon its width. No wind would ever blow, and so the tracks lay permanent, uncovered and thus, unforgotten. That kind of thing can change a person.

When he first arrived in this area, he'd just departed the city, having been chased out. Curse their suspicious eyes! Only by luck did he stumble upon the old farm where he made his home. It had been abandoned, though for what reason he knew not; all of the previous owner's belongings stayed behind. Since that day, he'd been all through the woods surrounding his bastion of indifference; as it turns out, the world had cornered him. All manner of families lived out their simple lives within walking distance. Still, they were oblivious, so he borrowed food -only just enough- in order to live. It was no doubt part of the reason that led to the kind of life he sought. Acceptance? No, he'd long forsaken that illusion. If the world couldn't give him peace, he'd take solitude. And he had, until that damnable elf had found him. Was it all some divine joke? He could see her eyes again in the light of his mind. It wasn't a joke at all; nothing like that could be.

The faint scream of a girl's voice came dying at his ears, snapping his attention. Before he'd even fully realized the depth of his actions, Erevin was already bolting in the right direction. He hurdled a gnarled log, landing on the other side even as he continued sprinting in practically the same motion. A dim curtain of light seeped in through the canopy ahead, meaning he was getting close to a clearing. He didn't know what force had overcome him, but the visual echo of those greens eyes never faded.

It all happened in slow motion, but looking back it would seem only a blink. As the dark haired man approached the source, he had barely enough time to raise his arm, a makeshift shield, even as he fought to draw the elf's sword with the other. Black, silent death taking the form of a panther was already gliding through the air and upon him. It felt like an eternity, and despite it all he was powerless to move fast enough, powerless to will himself a struggle any less. Although it hung in the air for but a fraction of a second, the tiefling found himself faced with midnight eyes, mirrors as dark as his own. Unreadable and devoid of expression, the kind of eyes shuttered off from the soul and so unlike the windows of any others'...is this what they saw in him? Fiery pain burned his arm as hungry fangs sank, meeting flesh and blood, his forearm fated instead of his throat. The sensation of falling struck him almost as hard as the earth itself, that svelte weight bearing him down. Had it happened a hundred times over, the outcome would be identical.

A screaming, molten pain ripped from his throat; in that same moment he fully realized his knuckle-white grip around the elf's sword. Though it was unswingable from his pinned position on the ground, he brought the sharp edge to bear as best he could. It cut deep, deep enough to force the fangs in retreat. He blinked his eyes. Time resumed less than surreal, and it was then that he realized it was all over; the beast was gone. Warm blood oozed down the tear in his arm, pooling on his chest and staining the red tunic a much darker color. He breathed a few times, searching for the strength to stand. Crying? He spotted its origin as he pushed himself up, nursing a flayed arm. It... it was a young girl who lay crumpled up in the dirt and grass; she bled profusely from the arms and chest. Her eyes met his, and it was there that he could see an innocence bound forever. She knew not her transgressions, only the tears they coaxed and the pain she pleaded. The half-lids of her eyes fell complete, the crying winking out like the dying of a gentle light.

Footfalls could be heard as the edge of the clearing rustled, an old, brown and black hound bursting forth into sight, baring teeth and growling viciously at him, the enemy. He'd barely just discovered the girl as it happened, spinning on his heel to face the aggressor. Right behind it came a blond-haired young man, a look of abject horror displacing his normal carefree demeanor. His eyes went from the blood-stained savior to the crumpled form of the girl beside him, then back to the man with horns.

"You bastard!" It was like a slap in the face all over again. The man advanced, but the tiefling held his blade at length.

"You don't understand...," Erevin tried, but he was cut off with all the fury of a man in desperation.

"What have you done?! Get away from her!" The hound rushed forward, attacking and surprisingly fast. Snarling, it sank itself into Erevin's leg who fumbled in the midst. He backed up, trying to shake it off. Minutes later, two more figures appeared - a man and a woman. They both held very sharp looking pitch forks, a makeshift weapon in a flash. The dog yelped aloud and squeeled as the tiefling's booted foot crashed into its ribs, sending it sprawling in a tumbling mess.

Bleeding and morally broken, he fled on his life, the calls of 'Demon!' ringing in his ears even after the audible sounds had long since died away, while a grief-stricken family carried their dying daughter to the only place that might yet save her...

...and at the center of it all, a single tear glistened in the light, that shedding of an innocent defiant and forgotten even as it absorbed into the cold, indifferent, and bloodied soil.