language
De Tearion: Notices the color change. This be one reason why I stay quiet. I am always brooding. Turns away, melancholy in his eyes as he stretches out again.
Me: Nice! I particularly love the swords.
Sam: Her color shifts from red to blue instantly, her emotions going from anger to sadness I did not mean to… She sighs, then goes silent
Me: Thank you! As you've prbly guessed, all of them are from Pinterest! I just downloaded them and… yeah!
language
De Tearion: Looks back at her. No need to apologize. I understand. My life has always has conflict in it, whether it be from Vanishers, my fool brethren, or humans. I brood endlessly on it, seeking reason where none be. And, in recent years, my emotional control has withered somewhat.
Me: Thumbs-up. I do the same exact thing, lmao!
Sam: Yes, I get that.
Me: Lmao, I'm just doing Latin in a chat for no real reason!
language
De Tearion: Nods, then looks away, staring at the other trees. He then starts to chuckle, amused by something.
Me: Lol!
Sam: Her color changes pinkish What is it now?
Me: Latin is so fun to use… especially when someone else decides to roll with it!
language
De Tearion: Turns, laughing. I recall a game I played as a youth. We would duel nature. ‘Tis both a game and training, and ‘tis something I had loved to play. Well, I remember one duel I had with a tree. It ended as a draw, because while I fought and climbed the tree, many of the branches broke and hit me. I forget what wounds I had, yet that was most certainly a draw! Continues laughing.
Me: Lmao!
Sam: Chuckles It seems to me like the tree just won outright.
language
De Tearion: Snickers. No, I was one reason the branches snapped. And that tree had a lean afterward. Yet, after that duel, it always seemed to greet me, whether via a loose branch dropping on my head or a pouring of dead leaves. Smiles.
Sam: Chuckles We Mist Fae have similar games. We'd challenge the weather to a duel, and see who it chose to duel with. It always answered me with the strongest winds and the hardest rain, so I knew I would be great eventually.
language
De Tearion: Smiles softly. I miss that tree. I have seen it not in decades, yet I have vowed never to return to the forests of my home. Though… there be many trees in the gardens behind the castle that has become my home. I could duel one of them possibly. I think I might know the one as well. Chuckles.
Sam: Chuckles I would love to see you fight a tree. I wonder if the weather here knows me as well as the weather back home?
language
De Tearion: ‘Tis indeed tempting, yet I know not any of these trees. I suspect many would approve not. Glances at her, chuckling. It would be fascinating to watch you duel the wind and rain.
Sam: Laughs Then I shall! She shifts back to her previous form, then starts mummering to the winds and rain; immediately, they both perk up and rush towards her, hitting her with the force of a category 5 hurricane Oh, I've missed you too! She stands her ground against the wind, shielding her eyes alone from the rain, and grins; eventually, the winds and rains die down to a gentle breeze and a light mist There we go! That's the first time I've done that!
language
De Tearion: Watches in amusement, completely unfazed by any rain that hits him. He actually seems to enjoy the rain, and his hair seems to swell slightly.
language
(Hello? You want to continue with this?)
(Yeah, sorry!)
Sam: Sees that De Tearion was completely unfazed Damn, how do you do that?
language
(You’re good)
De Tearion: Looks at Sam and shrugs. I like the rain, and I have a good grip. Shows off his claws. Though, if you mean my hair, ‘tis a natural reaction. When my hair dries, it will be longer.
Sam: So, your hair is like the trees itself, then?
language
De Tearion: Considers her words, intrigued, then shrugged. I know not, yet all Goliathans have the same reaction. There be many tales to explain why, yet most are vague and consider it to be a blessing of Mercy. Rolls his eyes.
Sam: Sighs Ah… we Mist Fae have our own Fate, if that be who Mercy is.
language
De Tearion: Snickers. Aye, Mercy be Fate, and the will of nature. Sighs. I have also heard some human foreigners call her… Karma. A chirp distorts the word ‘Karma’, as if he hadn’t said it many times. ‘Tis fitting.
Sam: Ah, yes… Karma, Mercy, Fate… the Will, is what the Mist Fae call her. The Will of the World.
language
De Tearion: Chuckles. The many names of one individual. Fascinating, be it not? Why must Mercy have such a variety of names when everyone be knowingly referring to her? Shrugs casually.
Sam: Yes, it be fascinating. She must have such a variety of names because she is as diverse as the many that are swept in her wake.
language
De Tearion: Diverse indeed, yet even then. Why must everyone choose a different name? Or am I plucking at the core of why all societies exist in isolation against each other? I believe I am. Laughs.
Sam: Indeed, I believe you are.
language
De Tearion: Typical of me. Yet, beyond all that, be there any activity you are in the mood for, before I fall asleep from boredom? Chuckles.
Sam: Chuckles I am in the mood to fight, yet I know not what I could fight.
language
De Tearion: Smiles thoughtfully. Hmm… me? A duel to first blood?
