Faramor The White Wolf

Faramor is searching for Valka. He knows that she is a graveborn but is concerned. The first time he met her, he did not notice. But it has been bothering him.

Her hair is so messy, it could get caught on branches, not to mention she probably has not washed it in a while. He knew taking care of your hair was important. He maintained his everyday. Right before he left, he grabbed a hair brush, a comb, a bucket full of warm but not scalding water and some shampoo he had made himself. Herbs and berries could have many purposes. "𝑀𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜. 𝐻𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇, 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒."

When he found Valka in the field of flowers, he sighed. "𝒱𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒶. 𝐼 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝑜𝒸𝒸𝓊𝓇, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓉." He put all the items except the hair brush on the ground, "𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉- 𝐻𝑒𝓎! 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓇𝓊𝓃! 𝒢𝑒𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒!"

She ran and he knew he would have to chase. So, off he went.

“!”

*And so, the chase begins…*

"𝒱𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒶! 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹! 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃! 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔!" Faramor shouted, as a wolf, he had a lot of stamina. So he was fully able to keep up the pace. He chased after her, following behind her and swiftly catching up. "𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒶𝒹𝓎! 𝒪𝓀𝒶𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝒾𝓅𝓁𝑒!!!"

Faramor kept up the pace, but she was fast. Valka, was not fast enough. He managed to catch up with her, grabbing her and wrapping her in a blanket, burrito style. "𝒪𝓀𝒶𝓎, 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓃, 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃. 𝒪𝒽, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐼 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉..." He took her sword, put it on his back, and tutted.

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹. 𝐿𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃, 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒾𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝓊𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈." Faramor said, carrying her back to where he put the supplies. He checked the hot water, it was still hot, but was a little bit cooler now. Good.

"𝒱𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒶. 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹. 𝒮𝑜 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒..."

He take a moment to sit down, gently holding her hair to not harm her. "𝒪𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒪𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝓌𝑜... 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉, 𝒶 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹, 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜 𝒾𝓉. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒩𝑜𝓌, 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒... 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒."

"I have been through the First Divine War, Faramor. Even if it is a matter of principle, there is no way you can call someone having existed for over two millennia 'young'."

*She was taken off guard when Faramor got her sword. Oh well, now she had to do as what this 'silly wolf' (she said that) wanted.*

"...Very well. Option one it is."

"𝐼 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝒶 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓁𝒻, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 "𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓁𝒻" 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇." He said before beginning to sit down, putting her hair in his lap. He first checked for parasites, setting out a bowl out to collect them. No lice, but a few ticks. This made him scowl.

"𝒯𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓈... 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓌𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓉𝒽. 𝒰𝓈𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇." He picked each tick off and put them in a bowl. He then began applying the shampoo to Valka's hair. "𝐼 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒶𝒹𝓎. 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝑒."

He began removing the sticks and leaves that got stuck in the hair from the chase. '𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝑔𝓈.' He thought. He felt bad. Faramor then began to wet the brush in the bucket, and brushing the bottom of her hair. No mats which is good.

"Ticks? Graveborns don't even have warmth, nor can they feed on us. Most of them would choose better targets."

*Still, Valka sat and just let Faramor take care of her hair.*

*She didn't seem to be surprised by the mention of twigs, however. Given how her hair is very long, as well as the fact that she goes on patrol often, that's... expected to happen.*

“𝒯𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝓃 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒷𝒾𝓉, 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝒱𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒶. 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊’𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂 𝑒𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓏𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒞𝑒𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓌𝓃, 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓇𝒸𝑒. 𝐼 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒻𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓉𝓎.”

He removed them, crushing them effortlessly and then putting them in a separate bowl. He made sure to be careful when dealing with them. Once all the ticks had been carefully removed, thankfully there weren’t too many of them, Faramor continued brushing.



“𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝒶𝓊𝓁𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻, 𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓈.”

He continues brushing, being very careful as to not tug or damage her hair. He believed Valka confused the ticks in a way, because while her heart may beat, she wasn’t one of the living. So, if his theory was right, the warmth of her heart may have drawn the tick, but the minute they got on her skin is the minute, they might have stopped getting their tracks.

“𝒢𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝓌𝓈, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑜𝓂 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝓌𝓈? 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈. 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇. 𝒲𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓂𝒷𝓈?”

(Ooc Disclaimer: Please take your time to respond, you amazing human. No, he is not trying to start a fight, he's just... a little spooked, lol.) The graveyard is quiet. Quiet, with the exception of the trees rattling from the wind that blows quietly. The sound of footsteps shattered the quiet of the graveyard. Faramor walked inside. Reports say the sighting of a gargoyle was reported roaming the cemetery once every few days. He was hired by a few students to capture a photo of the gargoyle just for their work project for the Lyceum. Faramor was more than happy to help. He examined each statue as he arrived.

All made of strong craftsmanship. Faramor's eyes fell on one statue, it matched the description the students had given him. The statue, was beautiful, Faramor would not deny that. Yet, something seemed off. A faint familiar scent hit his nose, and his head tilted. The scent was ghastly, almost like a Graveborn. Faramor shook his head, his eyes scanning. The scent was of death but there was no sign of any Graveborn magic. His mind was racing, so he forced himself to take a breath. "𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝐹𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓇, 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉. 𝐼𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉... 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒. 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓈, 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶 𝓃𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓁 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝓊𝑒."

Faramor paused, pulling out a flower he had picked on the way here. Faramor set the flower on the book the statue held and bowed, "𝐼 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒, 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝓈, 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉."

He decided to take the photo, but as he searched through the bag, he could not find the camera. "𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝑜𝒹𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝑔𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓈... 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝑒." That, is when he noticed, a black bat with green eyes sitting on the head of the statue. It was just staring at the Wilder. He turned his head away, contemplating if he tells the students they were wrong about what they had heard, but when he turned back... The statue was gone. He had hardly closed his eyes. Faramor knew that was cue for "the dead do not like being woken up randomly". He went to return to the students to let them know the good and the bad news, but as he turned to leave, his ears twitched, alerting him to the presence behind him. He turned around just to ask one question.

"𝐸𝓍𝒸𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒶 𝒾𝓈? 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒. 𝒜 𝒻𝑒𝓌 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝓎𝒸𝑒𝓊𝓂 𝒽𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝓈. 𝒵𝑜𝓇𝓎𝒶'𝓈 𝒸𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌."

Interesting. Truly.

*Zorya studies Faramor's attire, his weapon, and the book by his hip. He clearly is not a simple traveller but judging by the grace and calm which he displays, he is no ordinary hunter, or perhaps poacher, either.*

I am Professor Zorya. And you do intrigue me. Your presence here is curious. You claim some students of the Lyceum have send you here to aid them in their assignment. Is that truly all there is? Your appearance bears purpose beyond simply visiting. What are you after?

"𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇 𝒵𝑜𝓇𝓎𝒶. 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎, 𝒾𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓎𝓁𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓎𝒶𝓇𝒹, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎... 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓁𝓎𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇. 𝐼 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝓊𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌."

Faramor said, pausing, she could clearly tell he was a hunter. Techincally, Faramor was sightseeing Holt Street after leaving Cedartown when the students came up to him, they loved his attire and said he was the perfect wilder to ask.

There is no need. I have located a small device earlier and left it in my study. It is likely the camera that you seek. Since you have offered me this flower, I am happy to return the lost item to you.

You are quick to help. An admirable trait. You are free to roam the area around the Lyceum, but beware entering Lyceum grounds. Without a day-pass you will find yourself troubled and escorted by the school's guards. Please wait at the entrance to state your business, and you may be granted temporary entry.

“𝐼𝓃𝒹𝑒𝑒𝒹. 𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓁… 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉?” He asked, thinking of the way to explain what happened. “𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝒞𝑒𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒. 𝒴𝑒𝓈, 𝐼…” he paused, “𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝒽𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒹𝓊𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑔𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓀𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝓅𝑜𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓅 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝒶𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓈. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝒟𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓇...”

Faramor was not proud of himself. He bared a lot of shame and regret and he was trying his best to learn from his mistakes. 

“𝐿𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀, 𝒾𝓉… 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒹 𝑜𝒻.”

Faramor continued before speaking. “𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝓊𝒸𝒽𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑔𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓁𝑜𝓌𝓁𝓎. 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒴𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒶, 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒻𝒻 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓃𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝑒𝒹, 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎. 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓉𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉 𝒹𝒶𝓎? 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝒻𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑒𝓇. 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓉, 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒.”

Faramor then had to explain what he was told by the magister. That the next Cedartown festival at first went fine, but there was a scare at the evening dance right before the statue was revealed. Then the days kept repeating in a loop, and eventually he passed out, which would later be revealed to him that he was turned into a snowman. He was not happy about that.

He told Zorya about Valka, a graveborn, who had fought in the first divine war, was the one who saved Cedartown. That she was one of the only few not affected by the time loop, and she defeated Cryonaia, who was possessing the body of princess Yolena, who had passed away a year before. Merlin pointed out that they only sealed her away, Valka was the one who defeated her and made sure she couldn’t escape so Merlin could seal her properly. That, she protected Cedartown from evil and solemnly vows never to hurt the innocent, to stop the wicked. It is clear by his tone of voice that he holds her in high regard. 

“𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒫𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒞𝑒𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓌𝓃, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝓌𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓌𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑒𝒷𝓉. 𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹, 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽.”

“𝒜𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒱𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈𝒶 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎, 𝓌𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒶𝑔𝑒. 𝐵𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑒’𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒸𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉, 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒞𝒶𝓅𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝑅𝑜𝒹𝓇𝒾𝑔𝑜.” Faramor then explained the situation with the Graveborns relationship with the people of Whiteridge was slowly improving. He also explained that some of the staff was saved but amongst the staff, Court Mage at the time being Cyran, he was not there amongst the staff when dealing with the transformed castle. He found it… concerning. Merlin told him not to worry about it.

While traveling, he noticed a doll next to a log, it looked like it had fallen. Faramor got down to get a closer look. A plush toy that had a tear in one of the seams. He picked it up and sniffed it. Maybe he could get a clue on who it belonged to. The plush had cloth covering the eyes, and a green mouth. It had a dark blue cloak and was grey in color. Faramor however could also tell the time this was made. Well, an estimated guess. It had a sort of decay smell. It smelled recent. Canine creatures could smell the time of things based on decay of scent molecules. He wrote down the description on the mysterious item. However, he would have to get to the market to get thread and a sewing needle. "𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝓍 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓊𝓈𝑒𝒹? 𝐼 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇-"

Faramor felt a tug on his cloak. He looked down and saw a young Graveborn boy in bandages. Faramor felt his heart break but he made no indication of it. He knelt down as to not frighten the boy. "𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝑒... 𝒷𝓊𝓉..." he showed the plush, "𝐼𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈? 𝐼𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈, 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊."

(OOC: Fun fact! The "canines smelling time through decay of molecules", is an actual thing! Pretty cool lol!)

@whitewolf-undeadexpert

*Daimon took the doll from Faramor's hand, and nodded.*

"Oh, hello, mister. Yes, that is Stitchy, my best friend."

"You are right, there is a tear here... Stitchy, are you hurt?"

"My mother can fix him for me, so there's not much of a worry. She's an amazing seamstress!"

"𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝐹𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓇, 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒟𝒶𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓃."

He bowed, and smiled. He then paused. "𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈? 𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝓎 𝒷𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹? 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀." The giant wolf wilder knelt down. He wanted to help the young boy repair Stitchy.

"I'm happy that you want to help, mister Faramor, but... I don't know exactly how my mother fixes him, so I can't really tell how you can help either."

He didn’t know the mother nor how she would react to a stranger. Faramor, for split second, wanted to ask if he could wait here but he in good conscious could not leave the child to walk alone by himself so Faramor nodded his head.

While traveling, he noticed a doll next to a log, it looked like it had fallen. Faramor got down to get a closer look. A plush toy that had a tear in one of the seams. He picked it up and sniffed it. Maybe he could get a clue on who it belonged to. The plush had cloth covering the eyes, and a green mouth. It had a dark blue cloak and was grey in color. Faramor however could also tell the time this was made. Well, an estimated guess. It had a sort of decay smell. It smelled recent. Canine creatures could smell the time of things based on decay of scent molecules. He wrote down the description on the mysterious item. However, he would have to get to the market to get thread and a sewing needle. "𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝓍 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓊𝓈𝑒𝒹? 𝐼 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇-"

Faramor felt a tug on his cloak. He looked down and saw a young Graveborn boy in bandages. Faramor felt his heart break but he made no indication of it. He knelt down as to not frighten the boy. "𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝑒... 𝒷𝓊𝓉..." he showed the plush, "𝐼𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈? 𝐼𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈, 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊."

(OOC: Fun fact! The "canines smelling time through decay of molecules", is an actual thing! Pretty cool lol!)

@whitewolf-undeadexpert

*Daimon took the doll from Faramor's hand, and nodded.*

"Oh, hello, mister. Yes, that is Stitchy, my best friend."

"You are right, there is a tear here... Stitchy, are you hurt?"

"My mother can fix him for me, so there's not much of a worry. She's an amazing seamstress!"

"𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝐹𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓇, 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒟𝒶𝒾𝓂𝑜𝓃."

He bowed, and smiled. He then paused. "𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈? 𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝓎 𝒷𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹? 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀." The giant wolf wilder knelt down. He wanted to help the young boy repair Stitchy.

Faramor is searching for Valka. He knows that she is a graveborn but is concerned. The first time he met her, he did not notice. But it has been bothering him.

Her hair is so messy, it could get caught on branches, not to mention she probably has not washed it in a while. He knew taking care of your hair was important. He maintained his everyday. Right before he left, he grabbed a hair brush, a comb, a bucket full of warm but not scalding water and some shampoo he had made himself. Herbs and berries could have many purposes. "𝑀𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜. 𝐻𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇, 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒."

When he found Valka in the field of flowers, he sighed. "𝒱𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒶. 𝐼 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝑜𝒸𝒸𝓊𝓇, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓉." He put all the items except the hair brush on the ground, "𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉- 𝐻𝑒𝓎! 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓇𝓊𝓃! 𝒢𝑒𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒!"

She ran and he knew he would have to chase. So, off he went.

“!”

*And so, the chase begins…*

"𝒱𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒶! 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹! 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃! 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔!" Faramor shouted, as a wolf, he had a lot of stamina. So he was fully able to keep up the pace. He chased after her, following behind her and swiftly catching up. "𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒶𝒹𝓎! 𝒪𝓀𝒶𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝒾𝓅𝓁𝑒!!!"

Faramor kept up the pace, but she was fast. Valka, was not fast enough. He managed to catch up with her, grabbing her and wrapping her in a blanket, burrito style. "𝒪𝓀𝒶𝓎, 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓃, 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃. 𝒪𝒽, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐼 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉..." He took her sword, put it on his back, and tutted.

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹. 𝐿𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃, 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒾𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝓊𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈." Faramor said, carrying her back to where he put the supplies. He checked the hot water, it was still hot, but was a little bit cooler now. Good.

"𝒱𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒶. 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹. 𝒮𝑜 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒..."

He take a moment to sit down, gently holding her hair to not harm her. "𝒪𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒪𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝓌𝑜... 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉, 𝒶 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹, 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜 𝒾𝓉. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒩𝑜𝓌, 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒... 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒."

"I have been through the First Divine War, Faramor. Even if it is a matter of principle, there is no way you can call someone having existed for over two millennia 'young'."

*She was taken off guard when Faramor got her sword. Oh well, now she had to do as what this 'silly wolf' (she said that) wanted.*

"...Very well. Option one it is."

"𝐼 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝒶 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓁𝒻, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 "𝓈𝒾𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓁𝒻" 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇." He said before beginning to sit down, putting her hair in his lap. He first checked for parasites, setting out a bowl out to collect them. No lice, but a few ticks. This made him scowl.

"𝒯𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓈... 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝓌𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝓉𝒽. 𝒰𝓈𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓃𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇." He picked each tick off and put them in a bowl. He then began applying the shampoo to Valka's hair. "𝐼 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒶𝒹𝓎. 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝑒."

He began removing the sticks and leaves that got stuck in the hair from the chase. '𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝑔𝓈.' He thought. He felt bad. Faramor then began to wet the brush in the bucket, and brushing the bottom of her hair. No mats which is good.

Faramor is searching for Valka. He knows that she is a graveborn but is concerned. The first time he met her, he did not notice. But it has been bothering him.

Her hair is so messy, it could get caught on branches, not to mention she probably has not washed it in a while. He knew taking care of your hair was important. He maintained his everyday. Right before he left, he grabbed a hair brush, a comb, a bucket full of warm but not scalding water and some shampoo he had made himself. Herbs and berries could have many purposes. "𝑀𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝐼 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜. 𝐻𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇, 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒."

When he found Valka in the field of flowers, he sighed. "𝒱𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒶. 𝐼 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝑜𝒸𝒸𝓊𝓇, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓉." He put all the items except the hair brush on the ground, "𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉- 𝐻𝑒𝓎! 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓇𝓊𝓃! 𝒢𝑒𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒!"

She ran and he knew he would have to chase. So, off he went.

“!”

*And so, the chase begins…*

"𝒱𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒶! 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹! 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃! 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔!" Faramor shouted, as a wolf, he had a lot of stamina. So he was fully able to keep up the pace. He chased after her, following behind her and swiftly catching up. "𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒶𝒹𝓎! 𝒪𝓀𝒶𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝒾𝓅𝓁𝑒!!!"

Faramor kept up the pace, but she was fast. Valka, was not fast enough. He managed to catch up with her, grabbing her and wrapping her in a blanket, burrito style. "𝒪𝓀𝒶𝓎, 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓃, 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃. 𝒪𝒽, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐼 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉..." He took her sword, put it on his back, and tutted.

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹. 𝐿𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃, 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒾𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒹𝓊𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈." Faramor said, carrying her back to where he put the supplies. He checked the hot water, it was still hot, but was a little bit cooler now. Good.

"𝒱𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒶. 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹. 𝒮𝑜 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒..."

He take a moment to sit down, gently holding her hair to not harm her. "𝒪𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝑒, 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝒹. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓇𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝒪𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝓌𝑜... 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝓈𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉, 𝒶 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹, 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜 𝒾𝓉. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒩𝑜𝓌, 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒... 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒."

(Ooc: Set Pre-CoE. Also, I do not know if I am doing this right, so bear with me please.)

Out of all the people in the court, Faramor had no issues with most but... the court mage rubbed him the wrong way. The man, had not done anything particularly horrible to him but Cyran was a man that if under employment of, was not someone you could disappoint. Princess Yolena was very nice to him. Faramor, had thankfully, earned the trust of the Duchy of Whiteridge and most of the court. While the officals were away, having done all his work, Faramor decided to play the harp, for he had been learning how to play it from a maid who had... disappeared a few months back. He rarely got to play the harp but today, he got a chance as he was on break. The wolf played a beautiful tune known by many but played by only by a few. He strummed the harp beautifully, and it made feel at ease. He stopped when his ears perked up, picking up noise, someone approaching the door. Faramor figured that way a sign from the gods to get back to work. He grabbed his sword leaning the wall, grabbed it and made his way to the other side of the door. He managed to get down the hallway right as the door opened. Faramor, however dropped his notes on the harp: what keys were harsh, what were soft enough to not harm his ears, what strings needed changing from rust, what patterns of notes to use, etc. It was... a mini study sheet. It did not have his name but it had his writing. Now, there was no consequence to playing the harp but it was the principle of the matter and the fact that no one told The Wilder that if someone wished to play one of the royal instruments, they had to speak to a member of the court, and if they were not available, then speak to the court mage. Faramor was meeting with the guards, discussing security when a maid entered the room. "Excuse me Sir Faramor, Court Mage Cyran would like to speak to you. Immediately, in his study..."

"𝒱𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁. 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒶 𝓂𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉."

*Cyran is seated by his desk, writing, when he hears the knock by the door and invites the maid and the Wilder in. He stands up and moves towards them. His eyes meet that of Faramor, but he addresses the maid first.*

Thank you, Jennifer, you may go.

My greetings, Faramor. Thank you for joining me. I shall not keep you for long.

I have heard you playing the harp a moment ago. I seem to recall that you have had permission to use the instrument in company of maid Anna-Lena. I don't need to remind you that she has vanished a few weeks ago.

Faramor bowed, and moved to the side so the maid could leave. As the court mage explained, it dawned on him that the person who had entered was Cyran. Had he known, he would have been more mindful. As Cyran continued, it made the poor wolf tense up. He however, had not know instructor were needed. He cleared his throat, and answered the first question. He would have to clarify some information before answering the second.

"𝒲𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹. 𝒟𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒾𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒸𝓁𝓊𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝓊𝓇𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑔𝑒, 𝐼 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓉. 𝒩𝑜𝓌, 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒻𝒻 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒜𝓃𝓃𝒶-𝐿𝑒𝓃𝒶, 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓉. 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓂𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒹𝒶𝓂𝒶𝑔𝑒. 𝒲𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔." He paused, taking a breath, "𝑅𝑜𝒹𝓇𝒾𝑔𝑜 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝒾𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝒶𝒻𝑒. 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃𝑒𝒹, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓎. 𝒩𝑜 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓈 𝓈𝑜 𝒻𝒶𝓇. 𝒜𝓃𝓎 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒞𝒶𝓅𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝑅𝑜𝒹𝓇𝒾𝑔𝑜."

He then looked up.

"𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃... 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒻𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒻𝒻 𝒾𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒, 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒴𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒶'𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉, 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓅. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝓁𝓈𝑒. 𝐼𝓈... 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓈𝓈𝓊𝑒?"

Misarte guide him, he was quite confused. It was not without implication that he had assumed the court found it okay, hence why the staff said it was fine. He had known it wasn't. Granted, no punishment would be given but he did not know that.

Faramor had found his way to Holt Street, he always wanted to explore more of the world. He saw an advertisement for a "chaperoning" event. It took place at the Lyceum. "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝓎𝒸𝑒𝓊𝓂... 𝒜𝒽! 𝐼 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝑀𝒶𝑔𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒹𝒾𝑒𝒹."

Faramor made his way to the Lyceum. After getting off at the docks, while on his way there, he ears picked up the sound of running. He followed the sound and found a tiny wilder running from a group of wild boars. Faramor picked up a scent of a potion. A potion that made the boars go into a frenzy. He immediately picked some herbs and set them up to lure the boars away. The berries were harmless and acted as a natural relaxant and mood stablizer. It took a minute but the boars smelled the herbs and made their way to it. Faramor snuck around the area and went to get the young student out of the tree. He was able to get her down just fine. "𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝑒. 𝐻𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈𝑒𝓈." Faramor noticed, found them, picked them up and saw they were dirty so he cleaned them. He knelt down and put them on her. He saw how skittish she was and patted her head. "𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝓉, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝐹𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈. 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝑜𝓃𝑒. 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒, 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓇?"

She was so tiny... and precious. A tiny thought in the white wolf's head, as he carried her back to the Lyceum. '𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈, 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝓀𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓌.'

Pippa trembled as she waited for the boars to disappear, having to rely on her hearing. And even after the wild beasts have seemed to gone away after a while, she was still scared and having doubts. But that was when another Wilder, Faramor, scooped her from her hiding place, and reassured her that everything was alright.

"Oh.. t..thank you...! I.. I'm Pippa." The squirrel Wilder stammered, her heart still racing even after Faramor saved her from her mishap.

"𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒫𝒾𝓅𝓅𝒶."

He stopped moving and looked down. "𝐼𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒷𝑜𝓁𝒹, 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝐼 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊?" He was polite, and looked not vicious or mean. Faramor paused, realizing that they are out of danger. "𝑀𝓎 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒𝓈. 𝒟𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃? 𝐿𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉-"

He gently set her on the ground.

(Ooc Disclaimer: Please take your time to respond, you amazing human. No, he is not trying to start a fight, he's just... a little spooked, lol.) The graveyard is quiet. Quiet, with the exception of the trees rattling from the wind that blows quietly. The sound of footsteps shattered the quiet of the graveyard. Faramor walked inside. Reports say the sighting of a gargoyle was reported roaming the cemetery once every few days. He was hired by a few students to capture a photo of the gargoyle just for their work project for the Lyceum. Faramor was more than happy to help. He examined each statue as he arrived.

All made of strong craftsmanship. Faramor's eyes fell on one statue, it matched the description the students had given him. The statue, was beautiful, Faramor would not deny that. Yet, something seemed off. A faint familiar scent hit his nose, and his head tilted. The scent was ghastly, almost like a Graveborn. Faramor shook his head, his eyes scanning. The scent was of death but there was no sign of any Graveborn magic. His mind was racing, so he forced himself to take a breath. "𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓂 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝐹𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓇, 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉. 𝐼𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉... 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒. 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓈, 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶 𝓃𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓁 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓉𝓊𝑒."

Faramor paused, pulling out a flower he had picked on the way here. Faramor set the flower on the book the statue held and bowed, "𝐼 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒, 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝓈, 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓇𝓊𝓅𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉."

He decided to take the photo, but as he searched through the bag, he could not find the camera. "𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝑜𝒹𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝑔𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓈... 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝑒." That, is when he noticed, a black bat with green eyes sitting on the head of the statue. It was just staring at the Wilder. He turned his head away, contemplating if he tells the students they were wrong about what they had heard, but when he turned back... The statue was gone. He had hardly closed his eyes. Faramor knew that was cue for "the dead do not like being woken up randomly". He went to return to the students to let them know the good and the bad news, but as he turned to leave, his ears twitched, alerting him to the presence behind him. He turned around just to ask one question.

"𝐸𝓍𝒸𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓇𝒶 𝒾𝓈? 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑒. 𝒜 𝒻𝑒𝓌 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝓎𝒸𝑒𝓊𝓂 𝒽𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒿𝑒𝒸𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝓈. 𝒵𝑜𝓇𝓎𝒶'𝓈 𝒸𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈. 𝐼𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌."

Interesting. Truly.

*Zorya studies Faramor's attire, his weapon, and the book by his hip. He clearly is not a simple traveller but judging by the grace and calm which he displays, he is no ordinary hunter, or perhaps poacher, either.*

I am Professor Zorya. And you do intrigue me. Your presence here is curious. You claim some students of the Lyceum have send you here to aid them in their assignment. Is that truly all there is? Your appearance bears purpose beyond simply visiting. What are you after?

"𝐼𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇 𝒵𝑜𝓇𝓎𝒶. 𝒫𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒, 𝒹𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓅𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎, 𝒾𝓃𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓎𝓁𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓎𝒶𝓇𝒹, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎... 𝓁𝑒𝒻𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓁𝓎𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇. 𝐼 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝓊𝓂𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌."

Faramor said, pausing, she could clearly tell he was a hunter. Techincally, Faramor was sightseeing Holt Street after leaving Cedartown when the students came up to him, they loved his attire and said he was the perfect wilder to ask.

There is a letter delivered,

𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒵𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀 𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃, 𝒹𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝓃𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓈 𝑜𝓇 𝒹𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈?

𝒮𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 -𝐹𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓇

Faramor is fetching you snacks and drinks. What snacks does Zinni want?

Zinni opens and reads the letter excitedly, smiling brightly, then quickly writes a reply and sends it off via magic:

“Hi mister Faramor! I’d like some cheese crackers and pretzels please! Oh, and some apple juice! I really like apple juice. I can’t wait to see you!!!

Faramor pauses, as he reads the letter. He smiles, at how happy Apple juice, cheese crackers, and pretzels.

Faramor headed to the market, buying the pretzels on the apple juice. He wanderes the stores, mumbling, “𝐿𝑒𝓉’𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝑒, 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇𝓈… 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇𝓈… 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇𝓈? 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁𝓎, 𝐹𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓇.”

It would take him a minute to realize there weren’t any premade cheese crackers. “𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈, 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁… 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓈 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓅𝓊𝓇𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎, 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒻 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓈𝑒…” He would mumble to himself.

It took him a minute, but he was able to find and purchase a box of crackers along with a block of cheese. He explained to the shop owner that he was just getting these items for a friend. The store owner laughed and sent the Wilder on his way.

“𝐼 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝒵𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾’𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝓃. 𝒪𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝐼 𝒶𝓂 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃.”