our roots can deepen - together

1/9/24 : *Blog is now on Hiatus: not following back or starting new rps at the moment. You can find me @elkenbulwark until I can move blogs though. <3 *

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❝𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢

i𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝙸'𝚖 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐.❞

ᴮᴳ³ ʳᵖ ᵃᶜᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ / ᴬʳᶜʰᵈʳᵘⁱᵈ ᴴᵃˡˢⁱⁿ

ˢᵉˡᵉᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵐⁱ ᵖʳⁱᵛᵃᵗᵉ / ˡᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵐⁱᵈ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵛⁱᵗʸ

ᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿ ᶠˡᵉˣⁱᵇˡᵉ / ᵐᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗ

ᵈʳᵘⁱᵈ'ᵈ ᵇʸ ˢᵏᵉᵘ // caard

“Merry Christmas, Halsin. I thought about simply gifting you a box of grass but perhaps that would be too cruel.”

The sight of the box had summoned a weary smile from the druid, even more so as the wizard seems quite rushed to hand it off to him as if it might explode with one of the other's 'creative liberties'. "Jari? I believe I recall telling you before that I will not be holding your magical contraband-" At least not in front of city guards after their last loving escort to prison.

Though the holiday wishes clears up the confusion, albeit- invites a wry scoff at the suggestion he wouldn't enjoy a box of grass. "Thoughtful to a fault as always...now, what exactly did you bully into this box?" He wondered, taking a brief moment to peek inside after nudging the lid up. There' a quiet moment of observation in which he does not speak as he studies what's nestled in with the shadows at the bottom of the box. After a brief interlude, a warmer smile finds its way to his face and he closes the lid again, leaving the contents determined only by the softened nature of his gaze.

He expected silence at first- maybe even as an answer to such an impromptu inquiry. Brain teasers and questions with no right but no direct answer were common place to pitch with the other druids that happened to both share his meditation hours and a seat nearby. It was almost a ritual in its own right, and there was nothing to be sought of it except a feeling of comradery to smooth down any lingering tensions of making one's self vulnerable in the presence of others. Silence would have been the answer he heard had his company taken much longer to mull over the exercise in thought, as he could already feel his pulse aligning with that of the weave that waxed and waned strongest in the grove and it's immediate surroundings.

Once Astarion came to at least his immediate reaction to his inquiry, the druid peeked out of one eye that swiveled sideways to regard the youth with fleeting amusement as he could recognize the indomitability of his younger years on display when he too would have answered his predecessor with a choice not given. Though the stormy expression he saw in place of a mere stubborn streak with its waters muddled with the blood in the other's gaze had him wondering just where the strange, illithid infected had come from prior to their meeting in the worg pens- aside from poisoning goblins, which both warranted feeding him to a bear and made him unappetizing to said bear because even he could appreciate half a camp of poisoned goblins choking on their own bile, half starved or not.

He decided to keep his perception to himself, listening instead to the other's more humoring with a curious tilt of his head that encouraged small braids seemingly chosen at random around his nape as if he'd once been beset by the tiefling children in the grove to fall forwards and tickle his jaw. So he had been correct in his guess, but he didn't feel any nearer the truth than when he'd first inquired. Perhaps that was for the best... unless the other felt particularly chatty after considering the prospect of losing his voice. "You do well to fill the void about this place. One that not many here would willingly fill. Save that Volo fellow, I suppose." And he doubted anyone would be thrilled with such a swap.

Halsin supposed he should have expected the counter spell of conversation, but even as he sat a moment in his own initial silence, words seemed to scare him in the way the shadows cast from the fire never seemed to commit the one spot on the ground. "Well, three is oft the number of exceptions, is it not?" He finally admitted. "-the rule of three. Three wishes. Life, death..." His gaze settled, pointedly positioned to regard the odd shade of crimson in his company's eyes and the glint of the fire upon the very tips of fangs that sought refuge under a frown. "-rebirth." A shrug of his broad shoulders followed, along with an unassuming smile.

"I'd imagine there aren't many words to speak once you've been spit up into this world anew." The feel of both the sun scorching skin and eyes that had been so assured they would not leave the darkness again and limbs that didn't know how they even worked anymore from the burden of one's weight supported by a bed's frame briefly reminded him with a slow, subtle hitch of breath. "Even if you're- rather fluent in a few languages. Sometimes just being...says enough."

A restless shift later, he gave his company an apologetic look - the hint of a laugh even as he gripped at and gave his own knee a squeeze. "Ah- but listen to me prattle on. Not exactly the way I hoped to make an impression on you. Well, one that would not have you questioning my senility, at any rate."

Though his preference in wild shape came in the form of claws and teeth, there was no denying that something carried by the absent Archdruid held venom that had yet to be fully milked despite how much of it had already gone into the shaping of a spear now confined in the dark recesses of the grove's many root cellars. Granted, he would have disliked having the taste of his own words described to him as such, having never really been (and certainly not now) a fan of spiders to consider taking their form...without duress inspired necessity.

Certainly, he thought whilst locked into the firm gaze of a territorial dispute he was no stranger to, having completed his Rite of Silence in the surrendering of autonomy and mind to the beast and its ways of holding down preferential sides of a salmon stock, certainly she had some inkling of why crossing his path in the camp was not well met? Disapproving though he was of those that followed the spider queen's teachings, if they could even be called as much and not simply what they were- being a torturous affair, it was not faith that had seen him imprisoned, starved, and left to the games of goblins with the lives of those under his care so callously disregarded.

Even an attempt on her part to stand tall enough to meet his less than enthused gaze was met with the druid leaning back a ways just to see where she stood beneath him. He didn't think it possible, but her words soured his expression far more than crossing paths on his way to the river had. "With the red of your gaze, I would expect no less. Now, if you'll excuse me...I have some more 'projecting' to do by the water's edge." He practically spat the word, his eyes flashing with a golden burn before side stepping her with the wariness paid to a snake with its own share of venom to continue on his way down the embankment. He had to give these traveling arrangements more thought.

He supposed apologies were still in order, for it was his own directions that saw Nettie should treat the illithid infested as she had in his absence. After the last lad had transformed and nearly made a meal of the dwarf, Halsin was not one to let the sap leak through a hardened heart when it came to protecting those closest to him within the grove's confines. He owed them that much, after all when he failed to bring all of them home some hundred or so years ago. Still, the grove's defender had yet to illicit his concern as far as owed compensation (though he guessed it was only a matter of time with how the other carried on-) so he settled for the next best thing- answering questions long into the night.

"Well, I'm sure it would be awful for you, chatter box that you are." The Archdruid mused, his eyes painted a shade of playful that soon dimmed as he considered the old rite he hadn't thought of in quite some time. To hear an outsider even give pause on its behalf stirred up parts of the past he'd rather keep there, all things considered. A slow shake of his head signaled his final judgement on the practice. "To tell you the truth, I-... found it rather relaxing."

The smile that followed seemed weary in a way, but he kept it trained on the fire until he felt it firm enough to send a side long glance at his company. "A far cry from the demands of an Archdruid. My predecessor would have considered it a vacation, I'm sure." With a shift, he shut his eyes as if prepared to ready himself for a bit of meditation while the others slept nearby. "...I'm curious-" He started, though waited until he'd shifted into his bones at a comfortable angle to continue. "...would you rather lose your voice for a year, or your body for three? Hypothetically, of course."

“Oh, bite me.” Jari readied himself in his usual form, legs spread but firmly planted to keep his balance. He does a flamboyant twirl of his spear and he readies. His grip of the spear is firm and controlled. He keeps his eyes on Halsin’s…although this is mainly done to distract himself from the man scantily clad figure. He begins to move to the right, beginning to circle the large elf before going in for a swift jab to his side. However, that was merely bait for his next move of going for the back of Halsin’s knee. The smile is on his lips as they get started.

The curl of his smile didn't waver, even as his wizard companion spat. "I was thinking claws first. Eager, are we?" The teasing tone of a wood elf was all too natural. Au naturale, even. It was a good thing most of the groan-worthy jokes stayed in his head...(most of the time). Made his mental plane quite incompatible with those illthid parasites, he supposed.

No stranger to the laws of battles within nature, having had plenty in wild form to know better, the Archdruid readily returned Jari's gaze as the circling persisted just long enough for them to loop around another once before the surge of action via the other's jab inspired him forward. With a tilt upwards, the pole still positioned in the exchange between forearm and triceps lifted just so to catch the blow as gentle as two hands cupped and waiting to cushion a ball thrown from the other side of camp before it could go splash in the river and ruin Scratch's evening.

So gentle was it a reaction, in fact, that a slight turn was in order to meet the blow aimed from the back of his knee as well- reaction reserved with just the amount of force one exerts while clasping a hand to fiddle with it fondly. A quirked brow and a cautious blink let the wizard know he at least had his attention now.

It was surprisingly pleasant to have Halsin in camp now. Tav admired druids for their love for nature and life, as well as their unique ways to see living beings. With Halsin around, he felt calmer, with his goals in mind; after all, the Druid was aware of the Shadow Curse and he was the one who pointed them to Moonrise Towers. Perhaps a part of his past was awaiting Tav there -- whoever he was, what he did... who knew? And, mostly important, why did he have those urges from time to time? There was an evening Tav approached the man with the intention of finding out more about the Urge. At least, try. Halsin seemed to know a lot about tadpoles, Mind Flayers and the curse itself. He probably had some idea what the Hells was wrong with Tav. Hopefully.

"Good evening, Halsin." He greeted the Druid politely, giving him a smile. "I wonder if you have time to... discuss something? If you're not busy, of course." A tone of anxiety was clear in his voice, though he tried his best to hide it.

The last camping expedition had not gone so well with Aardin. The man was ambitious, pressing towards Moonrise in a way that Halsin couldn't ignore lest he miss his chance for answers. Foolish he was to think the cowardly captain could handle a few goblins. It had taken all of the Archdruid's strength to hold them off, and yet the band of humans had still fled when his strength against the onslaught had weakened. Such was the way of nature...to leave the wounded behind. An act of self-preservation at its finest.

So it was with some hesitance that he pitched a tent, albeit- farther away from the others, lest he draw any concerns from the usual herd with his presence. He did not expect visitors, especially with the sun already long gone beyond the horizon. Set by a small, lit brazier outside his tent, he drew his gaze up from the whittling tools he'd been polishing to the stranger that had been among those that sprung him from the goblin's camp. Curious...for it to be so late and yet-...no, he supposed he could not determine if the lack of pointed ears meant anything in regards to the other's sleep or meditation patterns. Stranger combinations were created in the wilds all the time.

"Evening already? And a good one at that...imagine my surprise." He chuckled, shaking his head as he shifted to make room by the glowing heat of the brazier should his company like to join him. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, I see. Were there anything pressing to discuss, I would give a listen..."

As lithe fingers curled around the saw grass-adjourned peaks of his bicep, the Archdruid made the most of the rescue by lifting his oddly met company clean of the water, even if that meant cradling him closer than what a charity fair goer and a booth-beholden volunteer called for in terms of proximity. Before there had been but a wooden box between them, and now there was but a thin (but painfully chilling) layer of river water between the dry heat of his flesh and the soaked shivering of doused skin. He hated the idea that his company had fared better in the enclosure than with him in the wild, but... such was the will of Silvanus.

As he felt the shifting stir below him, he allowed his gaze to drift down to the waterlogged expression pitched up at him. Oh, how he did feel a tad responsible for the poor lad's condition. Still...there was naught he could do for it now except ensure the other made it to a warm fire where he could dry off and cure the subtle shivers that the Archdruid felt against his chest the more he guided his company against the firm fortitude of his chest. The other would need it once they'd taken off again if he wanted to ensure he did not fall through the spell and back into the chilling dunk of the river.

"I suppose one with the fortitude of surviving a full twenty four hours within the confines of a booth would be." He mused when his pale-haired company confirmed that he was still around...or at least conscious considering Halsin knew he was there by a soft squeeze round the waist. As the shivers against him continued, the druid frowned and only tightened his grip around the other elf. Such a nasty night for traveling, for sure. And the direness of their journey so far only seemed to invite doubt in his company. Inviting the glum chin upwards with the tips of his fingers, Halsin offered a candid smile.

"A burden does not inspire me to make it unhindered to the bankside, I'll have you know. And besides..." A series of tuts followed, along with the older druid's curious yet brief nuzzle against the grass lining that made up the other's druid-issued shoulder pads. "...perhaps you are a tad too harsh on yourself?" With that issued, he squeezed his company upon the river rock's waist firmly before drawing a free hand to his chest once more. A heavy mist summoned about them provided the conduit needed for him to teleport them back over to the solid ground of the bank, albeit with the exception that they appeared into the material plane once again with the Archdruid's face buried contently in the persisting warmth of his passenger's neck.

As an actual practitioner of wild shape, Halsin could tell the bat was not what it seemed. Neither a druid in wild shape, nor a bat. It didn't help the little thing that it smelled suspiciously of Astarion either. And no, he would not have an answer to why he knew what the other elf smelled like...for polite society.

As the bear came to a pause above the creature that had landed below him mid-amble towards the river, Halsin would snort heavily enough to send a current of wind through the bat's fur. Though the little bite did not exactly hurt, it was jarring enough for him to draw his ears back to his skull and growl a warning. A warning that would end in a large, pink tongue lolling out to lap furiously at the bat's chest and face. Hmm...still bloody. At least he was going to clean the foul thing up this way.

Though he preferred not to dwell on his unplanned stay in the Underdark, Sornin's likening him to a spider with a nest would not have given the druid much pause. So many mornings lit by the bloodied pink glow of Narbondel he had spent listening to the scuttle of the many legged hunters traipsing along the roof above his head. The times when he thought he'd heard thousands of tiny scratches above always invited the idea of the beasts ferrying their young about, and he supposed that was more in line of one's experience growing up in Menzoberran than watching ducklings form a line, at any rate.

With the mother duck pleased as punch to be pampered in the crook of his arm while her fowl played keep up with the wood elf, Halsin had grown so comfortable with the added weight (though it couldn't be much minding that ducks were light enough for remarkable buoyancy) that he nearly forgot he was on the clock as a weary mother's perch. That was until Sornin stooped to size up the offspring.

A light chuckle escaped the druid upon the honest inquiry. There was a certain grit to the drow that left the Lolth-sworn behind, and though capable of cutting still, Halsin found a dullness within the depths of mutual understanding.

Usually, her morning walks along the shore were uneventful. No one came to that part of the beach, as it was a bit out of the way, but that suited Niamh just fine. It was easier to slip into her sealskin and swim whenever she liked when people weren't poking around, though this particular morning she hadn't brought her seal coat with her. When she spotted a figure on the beach, she hesitated for a moment. It took her a few minutes to recognize the creature - a kelpie - and she realized that it seemed to be in distress. She hurried over to it, hoping to help. She certainly hadn't expected the kelpie to shapeshift into an elf. She let out a bit of a startled noise, then realized she was being a little rude. She reached out to help him sit up. "Close enough," she said. "Are you all right?" She reached up and tugged off her shawl, moving to wrap it around his shoulders. "You'll catch cold. Here." The shawl was a bit small for him, but it was better than nothing, at least.

While it wasn't his idea to spend much of the past day or more bobbing aimless and exhausted through the waves of the Baldurian sea, that had simply been the reality of his situation after the incident aboard the submarine in its flight from an imploding Iron Throne. His party- absent now, though hopefully back in the boarding area they'd set off from with their dwarven helmsman, had risked their lives to rescue the prisoners trapped several leagues under the sea and Enver Gortash's hold. It was only once the submerged ship began to take on water at a higher altitude did the druid not only offer, but force his way out into the cold of the sea to help patch the side of the submarine damaged by the abandoned prison's blast. Summoned vines stitched the breach he found quickly, and though his stab at a kelpie was still a work in progress- he'd wild shaped into one to avoid having to re-enter the vessel and risk it taking on more seawater.

Unfortunately for kelpies, they lacked the means to hold onto a speeding submarine. It didn't help they were so far down that he had to spend most of his energy making the journey to the surface without breaking concentration on the shape as well. By the time he'd surfaced, Halsin needed to bob around for a bit and rest. He couldn't have been but a few miles off the coast, but however far out he was- the sea eventually carried him back to shore some days later.

He supposed he ought be grateful the maiden found him over a patrolling guard since a bed in the local prison was the last thing he needed at the moment. Lucky she did not scream at the sight of him in such a precarious position either and attract a guard from elsewhere. Another little shake of his head accompanied the ball of his palm as he continued in vain to flush the sand out of his eyelashes with a grind or two. It was only after he felt the softness of a shawl much too small for him draped over what bits of his shoulders it could manage that he tilted his head back and regarded her with one open eye, the other- still crusted shut with salt and the like. A sheepish smile crept upon him, and he minded the position of his free arm where he'd tucked it somewhat in front of him to offer a meager hope at modesty.

Halsin's bold claim is enough to make his silver brows shoot skyward. "My my, aren't you full of surprises," he muses, shifting to rest his chin on his hand. Scarlet gaze flickering from Halsin's face, to the two men and back again, he replies, "how can you tell? Are your druid senses tingling or something?" He pauses to emit a thoughtful hum before adding, "maybe they're going to do both? Some people like it rough."

Although Halsin wouldn't agree that he was full of surprises- merely astute observations, his company's claims are enough to earn a chuckle out of him while he gripped the thimble top of a highly concentrated tea shot between three of his large fingers. There was a lot left to peruse in the pile of tomes he'd borrowed from Gale, and the concentrated caffeine was going to help him stay focused without the need for a meditation break later. What did they call this splash of energy again? Something claimed to be extracted from the energy of a bull elk with a herd of over a hundred to breed with in one night, more than likely.

"Really- I would have thought you of all people would pick up on the scent of..." Amusement flickered in his eyes like beams of sunlight just below the surface of a clear creek as he briefly met Astarion's gaze before his too wandered back towards the quarreling strangers. "...blood swelling." Though his nose was not so sensitive, he could detect a good sweat starting up and the subtle hint of pheromones' that- as Astarion put it...could very well indicate either preparation. Though perhaps the other elf had missed the way one of them grabbed a belt over balling their fist up in the front of a shirt-

He was oft used to busying himself through the night, even back in the grove where so many druids came from so many different backgrounds and sects of life. While Nettie and Roth slumbered, he'd be up flipping through the many tomes kept under lock and key within the depths of their root cellar of an archive. So much ancient knowledge laid within to the point where even his predecessor had admitted to him once that he had only perused about halfway through the whole collection in his 500 or so years of picking through the place since he'd been newly apprenticed. An Archdruid's work was never done, after all...and though he doth protested whenever either of his advisors would wake periodically to bring him fresh cups of herbal tea with swirls of honey mixed in, it was the small gesture of acknowledgement to his tireless pursuit in finding a way to Thaniel that warmed him more than the tea ever could.

Now that there was no need to study over the pleasures of doing so, he'd found himself more... inventive ways to spend bouts between meditation. Whittling seemed a good source of concentration that cornered the night long before it had a chance to begin. Finding other restless company that, mayhaps enjoy an evening tangled in conversation (or each other) also had it's appeals. Though he found himself wondering if there was more to a conversation with a vampire than a fireside chat.

With the hint of the unsweetened blood still stinging in his nose, Halsin gave the invitation along with the fire a quick once over before taking a small log from a stack nearby and headed over. Once he'd found a seat on a log nearby, he tipped his head with a smile at his company before leaning over to deposit the wooden offering among the burning others, and - in bothered by the spray of sparks that spat up like scattered dandelion seeds, he leaned back to watch them float about before the nights chill dulled their escapades.

"That you did." He indulged the other's musings briefly, a soft chuckle to accompany the fair shake of his head. "Or perhaps the druid came of his own violation due to a curiosity of finding any leftovers from our past meal. You know what they say of the company you invite by leaving food out while camping." Anyone who had just met him or only knew to attribute his being to the waning title of Archdruid might have taken his words as some sage wisdom...mysterious as it was unprompted. Those who knew him better would tell he was joking in his auspicious way- bears (and in the same breath himself) being the punchline of the airy humor.

"Given the honey, I suppose my instincts proved correct. Though I'm still working at if you're the type of bee to share or sting~" Not that he'd met any of the former, of course.

An exaggeration? Suggesting a much coaxed a brow higher as he regarded his sudden company and the raggedness they dragged in to camp with them looking like a cat with a mouse that unfortunately its tail ran over by a wagon wheel in the process. Usually it was in his nature to observe the foolish resolve of others, especially when so emboldened to claim they did not have a problem. It was not his place to claim a struggle that might teach another a valuable lesson in not inciting a barrage of arrows from some roof-top goblins when there was so much more of an abandoned village to root through, but he was not blessed with the Oak Father's very stern outlook on live and let live when the paladin was struggling with the latter, indicated by the harsher huffs admitted and eventually - a request.

With a shake of his head, he shifted into his gait and moved to catch the other's precarious balance by the shoulder with one open palm. His other hand steadied by the protrusion in the armor, and after he'd gotten his gander of the arrow's positioning, he gripped it accordingly to the best extraction angle- a good forty-five degrees northwest or so. "I may be a healer of some renown on the tongues of those that speak in kind of me, but..." A cleric he was not...though an Archdruid's duty to his grove did entail he become accustomed with healing the land. And fairly built like a boulder though he was, Halsin doubted Paerin fell into that category. Could be carrying some rocks in that head though-

"...with respect that is frankly not due-...no."