*deep inhale, singing of 'The Well' song in the distance*
Once again the two bump into each other late in the evening, elwynn of all places and a long chat is had. Laughter exchanged, amused by the silly people they know and how they're young. Still trying to figure out who they are, the occasional wild adventure into the North and insight into the others life.
Heavy sighs as Mary, Karthe and others do some wild things or argue. The two sitting on a seat, eyeing the darkening eve as the sun sets.
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Odum arrived through the portal into Suramar, he was a bit late yet it was worth it in regards to helping Mr.Brandstone. He payed his respects to Seraanna whose party it was. With that he was off, kind a bit scattered as he looked for familiar faces. He wore a large black coat that went down to his ankles, a nice dress shirt with a vest and coat to match. His colors subdued except for the crimson sash at his waist and bracers on his wrists. His raven hair slicked back, greying shaved sides a bit brighter and he quickly picked up a glass to nurse during the evening.
He regaled Lady Soulthorn for a time, getting to know her a bit better and enjoying the conversation about her tavern. To him it seemed like quite a delightful establishment and eventually he wandered over to Mozelle, Mary and Haleth's corner.
"Finally...Some one normal has arrived."
Mary started, to which he laughed a bit sitting down and eyeing this strange fish-rice combination offered by the Doctor. "Oh no...I've just never had...Sushi before is it?" Mozelle seemed almost appalled that he hadn't tried such. Odum kept quiet most of the evening at least for the start as he observed those there. Sipping from his drink, eating a few pieces of fish here and there. He noted a human at the party, one Mr.Raleth and eventually was distracted from his musings by Mary.
His crimson eyes held her curious gaze as she rapid fired questions and he spoke cautiously on the matters. He was amused by her constant questioning as she always seemed to have them, curious and inquisitive. Though he also suspected she just enjoyed knowing things, drama topocs and more. He himself didn't like to give some one everything nor the entire truth. He lied quite readily on occasion if he felt he needed to or twisted truths.
Eventually people began to leave when he spotted Mr.Rathel again acquiring some food and he spoke first. "Enjoying the evening so far?" He rumbled, a dark brow raising at the man who finished up his food nodding. "Yeah, how about yourself? Malrek...By the way." Odum took in the one eyed mans rough exterior, though he caught a calm nature around him and something intriguing in the demeanor. "I'm enjoying myself...Odum." the two shook hands, Malrek remarked on the firmness. The two speaking briefly on their father's teachings and stoicism.
"Not taught much anymore these days..."
"Mh, no it's not..." Odum replied, he smiled a bit and added off handedly. "I could never beat my father at chess...He was always better at such than I." Malrek's attention was on him now, that bit seemed to garner interest and eventually the two parted as things died down.
"Shadow's guide...I'm certain I'll see you again soon."
"Likewise...Take care, Odum."
@brandstonethings @foxglovethings @mozelledeliond , Haleth mentions and pieces))
👀 Describe your OC through the eyes of another person! (bonus + specify who)
"He's dangerous, more than that he's spent his chances to turn back and it's time to put him to rest. No more innocents need to die for him to learn his lesson and frankly I'm not sure he will change. He's still building his walls, still shaped by his actions and twisting those around him. Some are even being molded by him...Intentional or not."
The deep forests of Drustvar were not unlike his home. He followed his father through the mountain and the river that cut the land of Tiragarde off from the wood on the other side, and his father was at ease to have made it through the snow and ice.
Lorthanil marveled at the winding paths they crossed, littered with red and orange leaves despite the budding season. He reached his branches to the sky and drank in the warm sun, and bloomed, and was happy.
After many miles they came upon a bear, who sat at a crossroads beneath a gnarled oak. The bear was wrapped in wicker and stone, its eyes deeper than many wells, with runes of life carved into its head and legs. Lorthanil knew it was not a real bear but a Thornspeaker, and spoke to it in the language of trees that his father could not hear, and the druid regarded him fondly.
“I know you, Malrek One-Eye, and I know your son and will let no harm come to you here.” said the Thornspeaker, “I know you come from the mountain to the east, and have seen the bright star that came before you, but just barely. To-morrow you may tell me how this came to be, but to-day I must make my way through Fallhaven and to the north, where there are other druids I must meet.”
His father took interest with the druids too, and the three of them traveled north for many more miles until they came upon a misty glen, where the druids of Hallowhearth made their home.
Seven of them sat around a long table, dressed in brown robes and wearing antlers on their heads. They said little but watched with great suspicion as the outsiders approached, and when Lorthanil reached out to them as little trees do, they did not answer.
The druids bade them sit except for his father, who was made to stand at the end of the table where a great drinking horn lay. “He is not a druid, and must be tested by the horn Gwenwyn before he is to join us in our feasting.”
His father could drink more than any man he had ever seen and had never lost a contest among the other Stewards, and Lorthanil was not worried that his father could not drain the horn before the druids of Hallowhearth.
The druids watched with their backs turned to the Thornspeaker, whose eyes glowed with the green of the forest. His father brought the horn to his lips and drank and drank until it was empty, and placed it on the table before him. “I have emptied the horn Gwenwyn.” said his father, “May I join you at your table?”
But the druids whispered among themselves and did not answer for some time, until his father grew impatient and reminded them of the custom of the land.
“You are not a druid. You must be tested by the knife Lleidr before joining us in our feasting.” A knife as black as the night sky was laid before him. Its blade was thinner than a blade of grass and finer than Eonar’s auburn hair, but the druids just laughed and settled back in their chairs.
“Lleidr only cuts the skin of the unworthy, and all those who are unharmed by its bite may eat of the land’s bounty.”
Lorthanil, who knew his father was a good man, was not worried by this. He was honest, and all the time had been teaching Lorthanil how to behave unlike a tree and how to be good to the Stewards and the other fleshy things of the world.
But the druids laughed amongst themselves and spoke of blood for the land, so sure were they in their triumph. They turned away from the Thornspeaker, whose eyes flashed with the green of the forest.
His father took the knife in hand and ran it along his skin, but not a drop of blood was spilled. Again and again he drew the blade across his palm, but no matter how many times he tried it refused to cut. The druids gnashed their teeth and stood from their chairs.
“I’ve cut my skin with the knife Lleidr and drawn no blood, and emptied the horn Gwenwyn.” said his father, “May I join you at your table?”
But the druids were not satisfied. They threw themselves upon his father, binding him in rope and carrying him to their cooking fire. “You are not a druid! You will be tested by the flame Newyn! If you burn, you are unworthy to join us at our table!”
Lorthanil, being a small and simple ancient, was afraid for his father, and hid behind the Thornspeaker’s great body as it rose from the chair. It whispered buds and blooms in his own language, and calmed his quaking branches.
He watched from behind stone and vine as his father was thrown into the fire. The druids called for more wood to be placed around him and it was, and the fire grew higher and hotter. They stood around it in a circle, delighted to have set a living man there and being sure of their victory.
Malrek One-Eye did not scream. When the fire died down and the wood was all burned away, he stood in a pile of ash and fixed his fearsome gaze upon the druids. The rope fell from his body and he stepped out of the fire pit with his greatsword in hand.
The druids rushed to him and found their bodies frozen, held to the ground by stinging brambles that cut their flesh. The Thornspeaker rose above them all, its voice the deep rumble of the earth itself, and spoke without speaking.
“Witches of the Hallowhearth coven, be expelled from this land! You have earned the ire of the spirit of the forest, and will be welcome here no longer! Begone, false druids!”
Lorthanil watched as his father struck the head of the tallest witch from its neck and sent it tumbling back onto the feasting table. The remaining company howled and tore their skin on the thorns, shrinking away until they became beasts and fled into the wood.
The Thornspeaker came forward and smiled at them both and bade them welcome to the forests of Drustvar. It blessed their table for feasting and drinking long into the night, under stars new and old, perfect for a father and son to count together.
