@soughtforâ
    It is amazing how the events of the past unum have changed everyone so drastically. The gelfling are lost and hurting, still reeling over a betrayal at the hands of ones whom they viewed as benevolent, generous, and kind. Tavra is trapped inside the body of a spitter. Brea is isolating herself in an attempt to cope with the loss of mother and the harsh words of eldest sister. Seladon is hiding her fear behind a well-constructed mask, and Rian, the mischievous son of the captain-of-the-guard, of whom Snow was quite fond, is now bitter and withdrawn, his grief consuming him in a nigh impenetrable fog.Â
She forces her bare feet to make noise against the earth as she approaches out of his periphery, a cup of ta in hand. The exiled Councilor glances down at his furrowed brow, and her own worry lines deepen. She thinks that he must be the most wounded out of all of them, for he bears the heavy burden of seeing his beloved drained before his very eyes and his father murdered, not to mention the heavy responsibility of being the unofficial leader of this resistance.Â
He is so young. Too young to have to carry the world.Â
She kneels and offers him the cup. âItâs a cold night to be alone. Mind if I join you?âÂ















