#teudila

They lay on the ground, flesh and assorted gruesome chunks of gore spattered about them. An arm, detached from its owner, was painfully clawing the ground, leaving a trail of blood behind. Nearby stood the literally disarmed golem, somehow managing to look sulky without a face or, indeed, almost half of its torso.

In the midst of this scene from either a horror story or a treatise on what not to do in a butcher’s shop, Teudila beamed as she lay on her back, blindfold facing the sky, breathing heavily.

“That was so much fun!” she gasped.

“I hate you.” Beside her Apacea groaned, sprawled out with arms and legs akimbo in a star of resignation.

“No you don’t! You love me! Don’t you?” The blindfold turned the way of the spikey necromancer, but Apacea merely said,

“It’s going to take me a week of incantations to get him back to wanting to fight again.”

“You mean we can’t do that again?”

“You’re such a weed.”

The sounds of the forest whispered around them, leaves and birds only faintly backed by the sounds of the city beyond. Somewhere someone was practicing with a bow and arrow, to judge by the muffled thumps from an adjacent practice ground. But high above the sky was clear, darkness scattered with the lights of the stars beyond. Were there other cities out there, amongst those sparkling lights? Was someone else lying on their back, looking back at them at this same moment?

“It’s a beautiful night.” Apacea ventured after she’d reasoned the silence had gone long enough, then stifled a chortle. “But I guess I appreciate it far more than you.”

“I don’t regret my decision to go to the Mists.” The soft words were braced against any assault. “And I can feel the cool of the night air, smell the perfume of trees around us - and the stink from your clothes.”

“Nope, that’s all me.” came the joke, but it was ignored.

“But I can feel everything now!  And I was tired of being useless. I wasn’t any good at cooking, or healing, or anything else that might have given me a place. I was Noon! I was supposed to fight, I’d seen that in the Dream. But I wasn’t any good until I wasn’t distracted anymore. So I cut away my sight, you see?”

“I know you don’t, but I do.” Apacea’s spindly hand reached out to take the sting out of the words and Teudila’s calloused hand at the same time. “And I do love you. Even though you’re a weed.”

The pair wandered through the pathways of the Grove, the two figures weaving and bumping together in the soft luminescence as they made their way to the practice field outside the city. Arms wrapped about the other’s back they soldiered on, the blindfolded one giggling as she stepped on the other’s foot.

“Sorry. I didn’t see it.”

“No kidding.” Apacea’s eyes rolled towards the Mother’s upper boughs, but she still kept her tight grip on the other’s back. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Teu? At the moment it seems like you can hardly walk, let alone swing a sword.”

“I’m fine!” The assurance rang a bit hollow as they lurched to the side, the magic user dragged along with her as she stepped awkwardly into a pothole. “Whoopsie!”

“Don’t you think it’d be better to wait until morning?” Brushing a furry leaf from the other’s head out of her own headspikes, Apacea was definitely beginning to regret this nectar-fuelled spontaneity. “This really isn’t your time of day…”

“Nope.” The succulent face lifted and the jaw set with determination. Apacea would have sworn that even the somewhat limp body alongside her own hardened, becoming more wood than leaf. “Vyss needs to see I’m good, you know, good at what I do! She’s not seen that I’m good at it now, at being a protector, or a fighter. I’m not who I was. I want to practice against your golem, to show her.”

For a moment Apacea glowed orange beneath her bark, glad that she’d known her calling straight out of the pod. It would be hard to be lost when you weren’t Dreaming.

Straightening her shoulder against the weight, the necromancer nodded.

It was a warm night in the Grove, and beneath the embracing branches of the Mother Tree the Sylvari were making the most of it. The ways were lit by firefly lamps and by the citizenry themselves, luminescence spilling from the foliage of both mother and children alike, and in a myriad of colours they celebrated the simple fact of life.

In the Dreamer’s Terrace, the gathering was still in full swing. There was a joy and an innocence about the young plant people as they moved amongst themselves, and gentle music filled the air for any who were inclined to dance.

On this night, a pale blue Sylvari, her form swathed in pink petals that flowed even as they conformed to the human notion of a gown, was thoughtful as she sat herself next to one of the musicians. With a gentle smile only partially obscured by the mushroom-like frill that comprised her hair, she listened, swaying slightly as the melody soared around them.

Three pieces later and the flute was set aside, its player frowning a little in polite confusion.

“Hello, Toloma.” His white bark glowed as he lowered his eyes. “You don't feel like dancing tonight?”

“Not really. I was happy just to listen.” Leaning forward she placed a hand on his leg. “But why is your music so sad lately?”

Startled he blinked, reaching toward the flute in a flurry of apology. “Oh, I'm so sorry! Would you like to hear Around Don Delly, or maybe The Norn and the Charr?”

“No, no!” She laughed, patting his knee. “It's ok. I was just wondering if you were alright, because you haven't seemed like yourself lately. That's all.”

“Oh.” For a time that was the only reply as he bowed his head, his branches rustling faintly as he regarded his hands.

“Is something wrong, Pyrif?” Now she was concerned, and Toloma scooted in a little closer as she tried to catch a glimpse of his face.

“No… not really.” A slight shrug set his branches aquiver as he glanced up, then away from her intent eyes. “I'm a bit embarrassed that it's showing in my musical choices.”

“What is it?” A sigh, and she couldn't help but notice his look of longing across the clearing. Two figures sat there all but intertwined, laughing and chattering with the gathering, but never quite moving out of each other's range. Blue leaves and grey twigs mingled where heads touched in easy familiarity, and love and contentment radiated from their corner of the world.

Toloma blinked.

“No!” she gasped, glancing from the pair back to Pyrif - who immediately began to glow in embarrassment as he realised where her reasoning had taken her.

“No!” he agreed. “I mean, not them, exactly. Gerain and Nikyri have been my friends since we were sprouts. It would be strange.”

“Then what?” Shuffling in a little closer still, she put a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

“It's…” Another sigh, before he ruefully chuckled. “It's hard to explain.” His inhalation of breath indicated he was willing to try despite the difficulty.

“Sometimes I feel like the Dream isn't enough.” he began, his gaze steady now as he regarded her, hoping she would understand beyond the nigh on blasphemy the words might indicate. “Or I wish I had someone special to share it with, like them.”

“But they shared their Dream before they emerged from their pods.” Toloma said dubiously, leaning back a little so she could study the whole picture.

“I know, and they're so lucky! They were born knowing who they loved. But me…?” He hummed sadly, shaking his head. “It's so confusing.”

“So you play sad songs and hide away in your corner while you try to work it out.” Satisfied with this thought, she settled back on her haunches, her hands resting in her lap. “Py, I don't think that’ll solve anything!”

“It makes me feel better.” His gaze turned back towards the flute lying in the nearby grass, and Toloma huffed and stood with the grace of a fern unfurling.

“Come on, let’s dance.”

Slowly he reached out to take her demanding hand, but chuckled, “I thought you didn't feel like dancing?” as he was pulled to his feet.

“Well, now I do!”

“Now there’s something you don't see every day.” The nectar had been flowing freely amongst the small group on the balcony, so some of the glowing eyes peering down to the floor below were a little unfocused. With a hiccuped chuckle to acknowledge her sudden attention, the short leaved woman continued, “Didn't know Duskers could dance at all.”

“I didn't know you could see them through that blindfold,” one of her companions snorted, a smirk twisting her sharp features.

“I can hear them! Can't you? So…” Words failed her for a moment and she gestured wildly. “...I don't know! Measured!”

“Toloma always dances.” Another companion, her pink face accented with thorns, rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and shifted in her seat. The faint clink of metal beneath her red leaves punctuated the words as she peered over the side without enthusiasm. “Nice to see Pyrif having fun for once. Now.” She raised her voice slightly, signifying a change of topic. “Who was coming with me to the practice field tomorrow?”

“I will!” The blindfolded woman turned (completely unnecessarily, if she was to be believed) away from the siding, her full and glaring attention now on the woman in red. “Thorns, Vyss, I'll go now if you're itching for a fight!” The smile was genuine, if a little reptilian across that wide mouthed visage. “I can take you on!”

“Tell me again why I hang around with Noons.” The smirker sighed, her voice laced with amusement even as the final one of the company - one who until now had been tinkering with some gadget or another - butted against her with a thin shoulder.

“Because we’re so much fun!”

“That has to be it,” came the sardonic agreement, but she grinned as she returned the shoulder buffet in kind. “What are you doing there, Rani?”

“Ranuncla.” The correction was almost automatic now. Huge dark eyes were magnified to an almost absurd degree by the lens apparatus perched on a near nonexistent nose as the small yellow flower looked up. “It's nothing much, just a watchwork piece I picked up in Divinity’s Reach. I thought I could develop it into a timer for watering a garden, so the farmers don't have to work so hard. The Humans in Queensdale have these huge watering towers in their fields, and…”

“...she’s off,” murmured the one identified as Vyss. “Apacea, why?”

“Better than watching you and Teudila slicing each other up on the practice field, isn't it?” The smirker whispered even as the buttercup girl continued blithely on.

“... perhaps there might be a wider application for such a thing here! So I…”

“I'm not really sure of that.” Vyss gingerly fingered the thorns along her nose to hide the words from the now utterly energised tinker.

“...with a wrench and a bit of time, I think it might be possible to even set something similar up near the Mabon Markets. The Soundless could use the farms, couldn't they?”

“There's a group even you couldn't hear dancing, Teud.” Apacea’s jibe hit home in the brief respite from the torrent, and that intense non-regard of the blindfold was turned on her.

“Do you know you smell?”

“Yes.” Apacea chirped, her thin hand brushing the gourds hanging from her belt. It was a well known downside to her chosen profession, and as such wasn't anything she’d take insult from. At least this time she hadn't brought one of her minions along - they just weren't the partying type. “Would you like to fight me about it?”

There was a pause as the group collectively held its breath, broken by a hearty and heartfelt guffaw. Teudila pounded the thinner (but spikier) Apacea’s shoulder as she laughed.

“Not now. Maybe later.” Though it was impossible to be sure, those present would have sworn later that Teudila winked.

“Does anyone want to hear about the innovations the Charr have brought to agriculture?” the tinker asked, brightly looking from one to the others, but as no one wanted to face the verbal flood again, no one answered.