: ::Fog curled under the crack of the heavy door and soon obscured the door entirely.it could be heard opening but whatever came in was hidden in the mist. A lupine shadow flickered within, but it was unclear if it was a trick of the mist or a flesh and blood creature:: Cymric: ::Tankard in tow, he set it down on the bar counter with an effort to keep the sound soft enough so as not to interrupt. The passing of years had washed away any concept of personal space. He HowlingMoon took the nearest bar stool to them and heaved himself up with the help of bartop and staff. He looked quite pleased to be so near them, the strain of trying to listen from afar was cumbersome for ancient ears. Her smile was regarded with curiousity, turning to follow her gaze to the curled up wolf on the HowlingMoon: ::The unnatural fog seemed to move of it's own accord , going toward the kitchen, :: HowlingMoon: ::Those with sharp hearing might hear the padding of paws, the soft scrape of lupine claws against the floor and there was the distinct scent of wolf. But also human...The kitchen door would open and rummaging would be heard as meat was found and soon being consumed:: Cymric: table, staring at them. It picked up it's muzzle and lolled its tongue for a moment before licking at his lips and settling his chin back into his paw. He was, for once, speechless at Tiglath's response. Lips moving, but nothing coming out as he turned back slowly back. He hadn't seen the old curmudgeon do that in centuries. He filled his surprise with ale. Seemed she also knew that the falcon and the wolf were one and the same.:: HowlingMoon: ::Hunger satisfied the she wolf returned to the main room, sniffing curiously, still well cloaked by that dense fog::

HowlingMoon: ::that fod drifted closer to the old man, she was curious, he smelled of something familiar, but she couldn't place it:: HowlingMoon: *fog

::A curious, wrinkle-nosed expression as he stared in awe at Maranya. Disbelief written in a thousand tongues right there on his forehead, for her reading pleasure. The latest entrant would be spied upon soon enough, once he was able to fully comprehend what had just happened. Some more sputtering.::I...I....::More staring at Maranya, oblivious to the fog until it was virtually swimming around him.::Oh My.... HowlingMoon: ::nose was uncerimoniously stuck where it doesn't belong and sniffing ensued:: ThorneFang: ::mmms and nods, he smiles and lightly pressed a kiss to her cheek:: I think it's starting to get late, and it's best if I shift back to sober... Maranya Valkonan: Mm' ::Curious look at Cymric, then a smile for Thorne:: And I should get rest, in the event I get a page to the Clinic. Though if I do, the pager's getting tossed in the fountain. ::Serious" Maybe:: HowlingMoon: ::that cold moist nose might even tag flesh as she nosed around the old man, trying to figure out that intrguing scent:: Cymric: Atut tut tut tut!::Eyes bugging out, his stooped back straightening at the unseen, but obviously existant poking nose.::What in the name of the sweet Gods"::He reached down with splayed fingers, touching the fog. He had seen countless, indescribable mystics and creatures but it was certain he hadn't encountered a purple, sniffing fog before.:: ThorneFang: ::mmms and nods and closes his eyes, he starts to shift, much slower than usual, his wings breaking out from his back one more as he gets his fur, muzzle, and high perked ears, a mild pink flush in his ears quickly fading:: Maranya Valkonan: I envy you. ::To Thorne:: ThorneFang: ::hrms, tilting his muzzle to her then:: You'd spend a fortune in shampoo, hun.... HowlingMoon: ::those fingers would find the warm fur of a living, flesh and blood wolf. she had been using the fog as a covor as she was by nature, very shy. Though she jerked a little, she did not snap or bite or even growl, which for her, was huge. she was too curious. Though she was a little taken aback the fog she produced usually thick and white had somehow become purple":: Maranya Valkonan: Mm, but I'd be naturally warm in winter. ThorneFang: ::mmms and slips off the stool, setting up on lupine footpaws once again and yawns, then looks at Anya and shakes his head:: Not if you're built like me. ::his hand coming up to tap over the left side of his chest:: But I don't need warmth. Maranya Valkonan: You have it, so hush. ::Rounding the bar to hug her friend, her conscience, all in one big furry package:: ThorneFang: ::smiles and nods, huging her back and giving her warm nuzzle on the side of her cheek:: I have....time to get you home. Maranya Valkonan: Good. Because otherwise I'd fall asleep here and that is not good. ::Waiting for the portal:: Cymric: And I you...::Said with a tone of appreciation. Maranya had, after all, had just proved that Old Tiglath, with his damnable foul moods and cold regard still had a smile or two left in him yet. Had the new entrant not captivated him, he would have certainly partaken in the parting pleasantries, especially with Thorne. When his fingers found fur, his hand drew back in surprise. Nose wrinkling as he took hold of the bar, eyelids squinting in his study. He sniffed a few times as well, why not":: ThorneFang: ::mmms and flicks his wings gently and snaps hsi fingers, creating a single portal, keeping his arm round Anya to make sure she has support and gets in bed safely, then he can take himself home:: Let's go....::his muzzle tilting toward Cymric and nods to the man, then starts leading his friend home through the blue flame portal:: HowlingMoon: ::distracted that fog would thin and fade to leave the wolf in plain sight, nose shoved in something that clearly was not hers, Fur white as show, but it looked as of she were ghostly around the edges...Like she were moonlight condensed into a stnning example of the lupine form:: Maranya Valkonan: ::Leaning against Thorne, she's not drunk, but a glow, yes, and weary. Into the portal they go, with a wave for Cymric and the wolf/falcon:: Cymric: ::The nod from Thorne had not gone unnoticed. He would pay for that with all kinds of questions and conersation the next time Cymric should encounter him.:: HowlingMoon: ::Cymric's companion soongot the treatment as well, she sniffed curiously, it didnt smell right and she sneezed:: HowlingMoon: ::Unnaturally blue sapphire orbs were kept warily on the old man as she boldy explored his possesions without a care she might get into something she should not. Perhaps a cure for her fog becoming purple, or perhaps something to make <I>her </I>purple. One never knew what to expect when noses were put in someone else's property:: Cymric: Dear Me.....::Said in an astounded tone as he regarded the now visible wolf, parting from him to trot over to the aloof Tiglath, who paid no mind to the sniffing animal. Eternally annoyed by everything and everyone, especially the wizard and his sociable traits, his eyes closed shut. He chuckled at the she wolf's sneeze.::I agree wholeheartedly, Lady Wolf. HowlingMoon: ::Head snapped to attention as she regarded the old man and sat before him, head cocked to the side, those eyes showing more intelligence than the average wolf's. She seemed to be studying him. Looking from the wolf to the old man, and again. She seemed unsure what to make of the wolf but the old man..perhaps he would find her "cute" after all she thought she'd smelled something to eat and she would beg shamelessly to see what would be done:: Cymric: ::He was about to warn her off, holding up a finger to say something, but her curiousity was refreshing and all potions, vials and beakers were tightly sealed. His grimoires and scrolls also were sure to have a horrid taste. She might have found interest in a leather pouch wrapped shut by a rawhide leather string. Inside was freshly picked ragwort berries.:: HowlingMoon: ::She allowed her tongue to loll from the side of her jaws and tail wagged ever so slightly. Must have been the pouch she smelled. She waited, one ear up, the other down to the side. Blink:: Cymric: ::He may have been old and friendly, but he was also quite keen to the presence of the magically inclined. Chuckling as she begged, wondering if he should tell her he was quite aware that she could speak and even change to another form aside from fog and wolf.::Didn't find enough to eat in the kitchen, did you? The ragwort berries smelled good, did they"::Cackling.::I would have made a fine meal if you had paid a visit to me a few centuries ago.::Sliding off of his stool and taking up his staff Cymric: in one hand, ale in the other.:: HowlingMoon: ::Yes, she could speak and assume other forms, but persecution had taught her caution, after all her kind were hunted down and killed like savage beasts. And while some undoubtedly had wrought some great evil, she was not one of those. Though she had suffered for it. She tilted her head back to keep her gaze steady on, and in so doing revealed the long thin scar on her throat evidence it had been slit a long time ago leaving a hairless line almost completely round her neck:: HowlingMoon: ::This form however was not suitable for the common tongue, lupine jaws were not made to manipulate those sounds and often mindspeak was a shock. So she watched with those beautiful sapphire eyes. She sensed he knew what she was, but was afraid to change her shape:: Cymric: It doesn't suit you to beg, Lady Wolf. ::An afterthought.::Unless, of course, you enjoy teasing old fools before you swallow them whole.::He was cackling as he mumbled as ancients do, hobbling back over to the table, pausing a couple times to sip from his ale and catch his breath.::I should be so lucky....and it would make Tiglath infinitely pleased....::The scar had been noted, but he was wise enough to let such things be as they were especially at first.:: HowlingMoon: ::She shook her head seeming pleased by his response. He at least did not seem to think her a mindless beast. She rose and followed him, settling again near his feet watching:: Cymric: Ahhh....Here we are.::Said after he set his ale down and produced the pouch, untying the strap and allowing the square cut leather to open in his palm, revealing the ragwort. A glance around.::I hope there's no brownies about...::Stooping down to lay the leather on the ground.::They wouldn't take kindly to you eating their favorite form of transportation... HowlingMoon: ::She nervously probed wanting to ask him who he was, but afraid the shock of her voice in his head might kill the old boy. Instead she sniffed at the berries then looked at him, but did not try to eat them. She wasn't really hungry, she had really wanted to see what kind of person he was. Many who appear kind are not, and many who appear frightening were kind. She had tested him, and he had passed. She pressed her cold nose into his hand, not really interested in those berries:: Cymric: Worse than fleas, I tell you. Damnable things. There you are, My Lady.::Straightening up and watching her along with a twinkle in his eyes and a smile to match.::I'm rather good at talking to creatures that can respond...::Lifting his staff and poking at Tiglath, who heaved an annoyed sigh, cackling as he lowered it down and set it to hardwood, leaning on it. Softly to the she wolf.::He'd rather have tea with the Wyrm Itself....You, however, you seem as if you have much to say, My Lady.::Her HowlingMoon: ::A twitch of the face in what might have been a quirked brow, though this form did not express it well. She stood and placed her forepaws on his lap, careful not to harm and tender bit or flesh like careless dogs might and leaned her face forward untill her cold wet nose was practically touching his. This way she could inquire without invading his mind. Those sapphire orbs pulsed softly now as her query formulated and was somehow reflected in those eyes. not words so much as a general sense of HowlingMoon: meaning:: Cymric: touch was greeted with a hand that lifted, pausing momentarily, then affectionately pat the crown of her head between her ears. A knowing smile from the ancient and then a nod, breaking the silence with unspoken words, through mindspeak.::~Many, many moons ago, I was Elkuahi to the Seelie Court. I am sworn to defend those of the Otherworld with my life. Fear nothing from me, My Exalted Lady Wolf.~ HowlingMoon: ::She seemed delighted:: ~you do not mind my way of speech, then Master"~ This last used as a form of respect for his wizened years:: HowlingMoon: ::She removed her paws from his lap and sat back on the floor:: Cymric: ::Nose to nose with her, gnarled knuckles straightened out, his hands patting her paws in friendship.::~I've learned to mind only those that warrant it. You have suffered and I blame you not for your distrust. You are among friends, even though some...~::Glancing with a look of exaggerated disdain to Tiglath.::~..do not show it.~::It was nearly impossible not to find humor in their relationship, two old and stubborn men with enough will to annoy each other to fill three kingdoms.:: HowlingMoon: ::Her tail waved lightly quite pleased:: ~You are astute in your observation, Master. I do not trust easily, but your scent was so...interesting. And your companion, he smells...not like a wolf, exactly. I cannot figure him out.~ HowlingMoon: ::She chuckled or at least that's what one might assume it was, the sound was canine and clipped:: Cymric: Come...::Said aloud.::Change form so that I may know you as you are in the Otherworld...and have the company of a limber lady to fetch a rusted old man another ale.::He was never without his humor, purple eyes dulled and glazed over by the passing of centuries had never twinkled so brightly.::Ah....the bloody old curmudgeon wouldn't speak a word to me for the next hundred years if I told you. Maybe he will....I can only say that he was there at my birth and he will be here long after I pass. Cymric: ::A smirk behind his beard.::And on that day, he will...::prodding the ribcage of the wolf who was pretending to slumber but was, instead, boiling over with annoyance.::dance a jig.::Cackling.::Don't get too excited, Old Man...I almost have that potion perfected.::An ongoing joke between them of a youth potion that he wouldn't dare to actually create.:: Cymric: What you smell, or rather sense.....Was a gift bestowed to me by a noble Tuatha De Danaan. The tears and the hair from a unicorn's mane. Given to her, and by her to me. HowlingMoon: ::she seemed cautious:: ~have you a cloak I might borrow" My clothing does not carry over and I'm afraid nudity is not well looked on~ HowlingMoon: ::His answer seemed to satisfy her well:: HowlingMoon: ~I hear unicorns do not give lightly..You must have wrought a great wonder,Master~ Cymric: ::He laughed, gaudy and true. A slap to his knee as his breath left him, wheezing.::Aye. My heart grows no stronger with age. The enchanted satchel carried far more than it appeared to. He dug into it, head arms and shoulders disappearing into its depths.::Bloody....I can never...::His voice was echoing now.::Aha!::A slightly comical struggle as he freed himself from it. A simple cloak as was most everything of his, but it would do well enough. He stood and turned his back to her, allowing Cymric: privacy, arm extended with the cloak hooked onto a finger.:: HowlingMoon: ~My thanks..~ ::She began the process. What came with ease for the rest of her bretheren was for her, hellish and painful. Bones audibly broke and sinew snapped as her body contorted horribly first to her imposing lycan form, then slimming down to a slender young woman who now lay on the floor, panting with pain eyes squeezed shut againt the tears. she would need a moment to recover enough to take the offered cloak:: HowlingMoon: ::Soon her breathing evened out and she spat blood onto the floorand slowly tried to rise. She was unused to having only two feet and was unsteady, but she got close enough to get that cloak and shakily wrap it around her shoulders:: Cymric: ::He went on.::And it does nothing but make me feel older than I am that you call me that...::Chuckling paused at the sound. His back was turned, so she did not see the fleeting wince.::Please call me Cymric. It would be an honor to hear someone call me that rather than Old Man...or...::A soft snicker.:: 'You daft mage'. Touching as the monikers are, mind you. All the same, Cymric if you would honor me so.::He would wait until he was sure she was clothed. Eyes widening.::Oh, dear me, Child! HowlingMoon: F..forgive me, Cymric...::heaving the words with difficulty as they felt alien in her mouth:: I am not as skilled in this form as many of my kind are....I need a moment to get used to it...please.. HowlingMoon: ::The scar on her throat was now an ugly purple thing angry and unescapably present, her hand touched it absently and she gripped the table to steady herself:: Cymric: ::He took her by the shoulders and guided her to the seat beside his.::I meant you no great discomfort but I am honored you would trouble yourself so to please my foolish request. If I had known....Bloody foolish, Old Man.::Berating himself in mumbles even as Tiglath knew better when to make a comment, but his eyes cracked and spoke wholehearted unanimity to the wizard's words.:: HowlingMoon: ::She was embarresed by her lack of mastery on two legs but pride won the day and she made a wonderfull attempt at looking like she knew what she was doing but allowed herself to be guided to a seat:: You asked me to....::Eyes wide:: Why would I deny such a simple request' ::Trying to act as if the hell she experienced a moment ago had not been:: Besides...::Softly:: The pain passes HowlingMoon: ::She considered a moment, what was it she'd seen humans do when they wanted to comfort one another" Not licking, she knew that...what Ah! memory saves the day! She touched his cheek with a still slightly trembling hand:: See" I'm not hurt..::A hint of a smile:: Cymric: ::He sat down beside her, a hand upon her shoulder. Eyes soaking in the sight of her. Wondrous, tortured, beautiful, scorned. It wasn't pity in his eyes, it was the recognition and the sadness of his heart for her plight. She wasn't the first he'd seen in such a way.::You are too kind and you are very, very lucky....::He didn't wait for her to ask why, his humor sometimes sarcastic and sometimes innocent always won out.::I would have been quite smitten with you, but I forgot how over eight Cymric: hundred years ago. Yes...::Sage nod.::Foolish...and senial. But your friend, nonetheless. HowlingMoon: ::She rewarded him with a blush her cheeks burning. Nobody had ever complimented her before. She quickly shook her head and smiled:: You asked Mast.....er...Cymric, that I might bring you something" Fighting down the color now staining those alabaster cheeks. :: Or perhaps something for your companion" HowlingMoon: ::She had not forgotten the wolf, how could she" She held great respect for them, unjudging and inhuman she had no fear of them, humans however....This was the first time since childhood she'd stood on two legs, well sitting, now but she was secretly eager to try her body and test it's ability:: Cymric: ::At her touch, his smile grew. He studied her intently, returning her touch with one of his own. Palm over forehead with a soft incantation, she couldn't see the glow of his skin, but she could feel the soothing warmth of mana passing into her. The pain was still there, but she could feel it no longer. It was no cure, by any means, but it would certainly soothe.::No, I want for nothing and Tiglath is too much of a pride filled curmudgeon to eat or drink anything he hasn't killed or landed by. Cymric: Well...::He was old enough to see that curious glint in someone's eye.::Perhaps I could do with a dash of ale.::Sliding his tankard towards her with a knowing wink.:: HowlingMoon: ::she sighed, only now realizing her breathing wracked by lingering pain felt now soothed and smiled:: You work great magic I would be happy to get your...ale, is it' HowlingMoon: ::She had no idea what an ale was but she could very well guess! She stood up, slowly, testing her legs, unbalanced by lack of a tail, she stood letting her muscled asdjust to this new height. Her first few steps were admittedly clumsy, but after several more she seemed to get it. If she kept her back straight and let her hips sway just so, movement was accomplished and soon with relative ease. She made for the bar and rummaged hopelesslu clueless and finally grabbed what was most definately not HowlingMoon: ale:: Cymric: Oh yes. It pours forth from that fountain with the wooden handle. Ah, my healing is atrocious. 'Tis odd for us.::Us meaning sorcerers.::We may move mountains and fill the skies, but it takes another, more gentle soul to be blessed with the powers of healing.::He would wait and stand with her, taking up his staff with a keen eye upon her.::How long has it been"::In regards to her shapeshift as he slowly followed behind, cackling at her innocent confusion as he rounded the bar.:: HowlingMoon: ::She returned with a small shiny object she'd found. a coin that had somehow not made it to the till. Blinks and embarresment ensure:: HowlingMoon: *ensues HowlingMoon: Um...::fidgets:: HowlingMoon: ::She knows she got it wrong, but how would she know" wolves don't drink and she cannot read so naturally the combination resulted in money. Of course! somehow illetieracy and ignorance equals money but not ale. which is what she wanted. so she tried again and turned the handle he showed her not realizing the need for something to catch it in:: Cymric: ::He laughed warmly, taking the coin and holding up.::Now, all we need is one more for my other eye....::Spying the faux slumbering wolf.::Right, Tiglath"::He laughed again and tucked the coin away, waste not want not.::Come...::Motioning, he took up a tankard and set it in her grasp. It wasn't often he could enjoy ale without Tiglath nipping at his heels or swooping down in aerial attacks.::Mmmm... HowlingMoon: ::she soon was surprised, and soaked as ale splashed from the keg to the floor and the force of the splash came back to soak her. She quickly turned the handle closed and bedraggled and smelling like booze blinked:: HowlingMoon: What was that?"?" HowlingMoon: ::she was honestly bewildered as he handed her the tankard:: HowlingMoon: ::Well, try try again. This time tankard was held under the spout and the handle was turned slowly, the mug was filled!huzzah! she beamed as she turned the handle cutting off the flow of ale and offered the tankard back:: Cymric: ::He was chuckling with delight, not at her, but because of her quite adorable innocent.::That was the ale.....Now put that under the spout and pull the handle again. Ale tastes much better from a cup....::He watched on, both hands gripping the staff until she poured it full, unlatching the clasp of one hand to take the proferred tankard.::Couldn't have done better myself.::He looked quite delighted as he sipped from it.:: Cymric: Is there something you would like to drink" Hot tea" HowlingMoon: ::she sniffed at herself, the alcohol offending her nose, before she thought about it that she slipped the ale soaked cloak off and tried to wring it out. :: Hm' Oh no, thank you I had water earlier. ::Ale dripping from the fabric she was twisting in her hands:: HowlingMoon: ::Satisfied she could not wring it out further she re-donned the garment, still wet and smelly but hey it was clothes, right":: HowlingMoon: ::She was curious:: Why would you want to drink that' it smells terrible Cymric: ::He had lived in forests where nymphs and sprites amongst other things had no need for clothes. As she did so, he gave no reaction other than a nod.::Water is wonderful, but tea has its own appeal. Go sit by the fire, it will dry your cloak. But not too close, Child!::Motioning her off with a pretended horrified look at her last question.::You're just encouraging the old miser with that talk...::Nodding his chin in the direction of Tiglath.::He hates it and hates it even more. ::He paused to Cymric: smell the ale.::Smells like the wildflowers of the Fae in the warmth of Spring.::Jokingly, of course.::Tastes like ambrosia to the Gods.....::Another sip.::Off with you, Child!::Setting the kettle on the gas stove, turning a knob to feed more gas to the pilot. Flames rose and licked the bottom of the kettle. He set to preparing a teapot, pouring leaves into it as he waited for a boil.:: HowlingMoon: ::She shook her head, deathly afraid of fire she declined:: No thank you I...::She trailed off and averted her eyes, memories of being taunted in an iron cage her straw bedding set aflame for the amusement of simple minded yokels and after her escape torches...torches. The memory was so intense without realizing it she'd let it slip from the shackles of her mind to the open bleeding into the mind of her newfound friend, her memoery was now, his:: HowlingMoon: ::she shuddered and kept far from the fire:: HowlingMoon: ::Unaware of what she'd just done, she simply stated:: I don't....like....fire ::The word fire was barely more than a whispered breath:: HowlingMoon: ::she rather be cold wet and stink of booze anyday over the fire:: Cymric: ::His tankard fell from his hands and the staff clattered to the floor, fingers curling as he stumbled back and grasped for purchase. Bent over the bottles and cups as he fought for composure. Breathing hard, he straightened slowly. Fingers raked his wildly strewn hair out of his face. It was all he could do to not shed a tear for her. Slowly, he crouched down to take up his staff.::My Child...::Motioning her to come to him, breath still haggard.:: HowlingMoon: ::She looked at him, horrified. This must be part of old age she thought rushing to help him:: Are you ill" HowlingMoon: ::She carefully looke him over in search of injury, wanting to take no chance of her newfound friend being harmed:: what happened" ::Bewildered:: Cymric: ::He looked to her intently, reading her eyes, seeing that she did not know of what she had just shared. He wouldn't dare say a word about it, not now. The rise and fall of his chest grew even and he nodded. He averted her question with a wave of his hand.::Bah, I burned my finger on the kettle. You see...fire can harm, fire can cleanse, but best of all....fire provides warmth. Do not be alarmed, I would suffer a thousand tortures and die a thousand deaths if I ever inspired fear in your heart.. Cymric: ::With that, his left hand extended out and away from them....palm facing the ceiling.::But... Cymric: Most importantly.......Fire can be created...::A small flame sprung up from the center of his palm, waving more as a candle's than a firepits. Fingers closed over the flame and then his hand reopened..::...And extinguished....At your own will.::His hand fell to his side, studying her.::You have it within you to do so. HowlingMoon: Me" no no no....I want none of it, thank you. Fur is warm, I can cleanse myself in a lake and I am very well aware ......it burns HowlingMoon: ::Yes there was magic in her. A dormant seed waiting and she unaware it was even there. She <I>knew </I>fire was bad. She <I>knew </I>she was nothing special. After all, lycans were becoming so common nowadays. Why should she be any different":: HowlingMoon: ::the cloak was still dripping a bit so in an act of supreme bravery she doffed it and set it as near the fire as she dared come. She was fairly well covered anyway by her hair. Lycan girls were a bit on the furry side anyway so it didn't matter much. But it did expose some flesh as her hair could not cover all of her, and what showed were faint scars from whips and burns. The burn scars more pronounced than the others. She scooted back away from those flames quickly:: Cymric: Other things burn stronger and brighter than any fire ever could. *It is within you. You have a gift that you cannot deny, or simply say that you don't want. It is not your choice, Child. The Gods, in their infinite wisdom have given you a blessing and a curse. The gift, and the duty which accompanies it.::It was a rare day when some joke or quip wasn't in his sentences and he was no believer in coincedence.::Our meeting, under this special moon, was no chance.::Tiglath, who had been watching all along, rose slowly and dropped down from the table, standing beside her with his silver eyes bereft of annoyance, a rare occurence. He walked past her and curled up on the rug just in front of the hearth. Eyes still upon her before they slowly eased shut.:: ::She gaped as the wolf clearly defied any idea of the fire bringing him harm. Astounded she wondered why he held no fear:: Fur and fire..::she shook her head able to recall the smell of her own fur burning. she shuddered and wrapped her arms protectively around herself, fog creeping out from her bare feet:: ::trying to distract herself:: I never told you my name... For the longest time I thought it was "burnbabyburn" ::her own attempt at a joke, though it rang with truth as well:: I am called Saphira ::Her memory was still fresh in her mind and it was no small feat to keep himself from yelling out in anguish, feeling as she felt then. He busied himself with pouring the boiling water in the teapot. Tiglath was the oldest and the wisest of the three, one thing Cymric wouldn't dare admit, but knew quite well. It wasn't long before the wizard was following behind, tea and staff in either hand. He ended his journey at her side.::It would be an honor to know it... : ::She noted his flinch and wondered at it, perhaps she had somehow offended him, perhaps he was quelling disgust, all these things flitted through her mind and uncertainty took hold:: ::A slight smile as he offered the tea cup to her.::Sip from it very slowly....it is hot, but it refreshes the soul and the mind, Saphira.::The name rolled off his tongue as if he'd known it for years. His age had made him a master of many tongues and accents. Looking back to the fire.::Fire and all the elements. Wind, Earth, Air.....Magic. They would do your bidding..... ::hesitantly she took the cup and sniffed it, the fragrant steam a new experience and she liked it. forgetting herself and her form she continued until she had a nose full of tea and found herself sneezing:: And I would be the fool Old Tiglath claims me to be if I allow my knowledge to pass with me. It is not mine to decide its fate for. ::He was still gazing into the hypnotic, licking flames of the fire, they could both feel its warmth, even from where they stood. Tea cup still held out for her.::::hesitantly she took the cup and sniffed it, the fragrant steam a new experience and she liked it. forgetting herself and her form she continued until she had a nose full of tea and found herself sneezing: ::She looked appropriately shocked, composed herself and tried the sipping thing he'd suggested. The hot liquid tasted like heaven and her expression become one of delight:: This is amazing! By what magic do you make this" : ::He harumphed at the sneeze.::It's not, by any means, a replacement for water....but it is something new to taste, feel, enjoy. You are a majestic wolf...::pausing to reach out and tuck some of her hair behind her ear so he could see her countenace better.::And I am sure you would have me calling you 'Master' were I young enough to not transform into a three legged, toothless excuse for a wolf...::A chuckle then, it was hard not to enjoy her experience with her.::My most powerful spell could not conjure up a better tea than one that is grown with care and a patient hand. It is an herb which makes water its own. One of the many things the gods have gifted us all with. ::She laughed, her first in years like the music of the countless stars singing majesic crescendo pure joy:: You call me Master" I doubt it. ::Her eyes showd her intense amusement. Apparently that statement went right over her head:: Stranger things have happened, Child.::Eyelids widened, revealing the purple eyes dulled and glazed over from their battle with time. He nodded, waggling bushy eyebrows in jest. Her laugh infused him with mirth. He wouldn't push her to near the fire, not after what he had experienced. Motioning to their seats.::Come, this old man can only stand for so long before becoming a pile of bones and complaints... : ::Sipping her tea carefully avoiding scalding her mouth, she followed him quite happily and even went so far as to pull thre chair out for him:: : ::Hobbling over to his chair, sandals scraping and staff clicking with each rise and return to kiss against the planked flooring.::Thankyou, Child, Thankyou...::With a sigh and a heave he was seated, setting his staff to the side and clasping hands together, fingers intertwining and the pads of his thumbs joining.::Now come and sit before me...Rest yourself. You will hunt in the forest soon enough. ::she smiled and sat without thinking near his feet, this new height was still just a wee bit much for her and lower levels meant comfort. She did it as naturally as breathing, and made herself quite comfortable by his feet sipping her tea happily:: : ::The seemingly everpresent fog near her own feet withdrew into her, a part of her naturer as a camoflauge, or defense, she felt comfortable enough to go without it for now:: : ::She sighed content in this moment for now, all but forgetting her many woes and worries. Her burdens set aside in favor of tea:: ::He looked up and over his shoulder at her, eyes and lips smiling in warm unison. He laughed softly as she curled up at his feet. It was hard to deny one's nature, this he knew better than most. Thumbs parted and began dancing around one another. Twiddling away as he studied her and thought to himself.::I know I am long winded and pompous....But, have you understood what I am offering you, Saphira" Tea" ::bemused:: ::Siiiip:: ::Ah innocence. How she'd managed to keep hers might forever be a mystery:: : Lycans do not create and dispel fog with their thoughts, Child. And they certainly do not suffer as you do when they change shape. Have you ever considered that you might not be....as you've always believed"::He wasn't known for oratory and he had very little tact when it came to things that were important.:: ::she shook her head:: No...What else could I possibly be? ::She frowned slightly::: They called me monster they caged me..chased.....::she choked off suddenly feeling her throat close and tears welling up she looked away in shame:: I remember...::chuckle::When I was a very young boy, it would rain whenever I would cry. I thought it terribly convenient that no one would notice, because they were all running around saying that the Gods must be drunk, making it pour down in the heat of summer.::A harumph.::That's when Tiglath first spoke to me. Imagine my surprise!::his chuckling quieted:: When it started to burst out of me, uncontrolled and chaotic. I could have killed someone quite undeserving of the finality of death... : I had to be taught.....::Pausing and twiddling his thumbs some more.::You...Have to be taught. Your heart, through all of its suffering, is still kind....this is beyond reason, this is the work of things even I do not understand. ::She sniffles wiping her eyes clear of the offending tears:: How could I" how could I do to another what I felt' I am not so evil as that...::recalling the hoots and catcalls of evil beastie that had awaken her each morning back when..she pushed the thought away:: What they did was out of ignorance and fear. That kind of treatment can't be fathomed by you, I or any other being with a dash of reason....Saphira...::Hand resting on her shoulder.::There is a cave you must have passed during a hunt or a run but could not enter behind the great waterfall in the Black Forest. Do you know it" I was told the pain of my change is because my very existence is a great sin, an affront to god they said.. Aye, I have passed there many times the hunting is excellent there, why" ::A sigh at her words.::'They' know nothing of this world and the other joined to it. The world you and I are borne of. You are not Lycan. Your suffering is from the lack of knowledge and skill one must possess. I will have you as my apprentice, Child. That cave will be home to you as well, if you will dare to share a roof with Tiglath and I... : ::Her expression changed from contentment to joy and she rose enough to throw her arms around the old man in a warm embrace:: You will help me learn" ::She could hardly beleive her ears!:: : We are old, cumbersome and eternally locking horns. You'd be a downright fool to try and deal with *him...::Thumbing a point over to Tiglath's direction, as if he was the only source of the arguments.::But, I will teach you....However, once you don your apprentice robes...It will not be an easy path. You will hate me at times, but at least you'll have Tiglath to hate me with you.::Chuckling.:: ::Patting her back as she embraced him.::I should enjoy this moment, you won't want to do this again for at least a year or so....::releasing him:: I have known hate my entire life....::thoughtfully:: I am ready for...something new. ::she smiled radiantly to him:: I will do my best to please you both You have already pleased me by making the right choice. He, however, will take an eternity's time to befriend. And then he will make you regret it for the rest of your waking moments.::Eyeing the wolf with pure, unadulterated affection. The wolf had one eye cracked lazily open, watching them both.:: ::she smiled to the wolf and bowed her head to him respectfully:: ::His only response was to shut his eye again. Cymric harumphed.::You're in trouble, I think he likes you.::After all, Tiglath hadn't made one complaint since she'd appeared, and that was rare and downright odd.:: But that's good, isn't it' ::a bit befuddled by that Robes" robe! His cloak! She'd forgotten she looked where it was now quite dry near the fire. steeling herself she darted to grab it and scoot away from the flame as quickly as possible. Oddly a wind had blown the flames down just barely before she'd gotten close, seemingly pinning them down, as she scooted away thins returned to normal the fire was crackling there was no wind. And this was odd because no door nor window had been open, perhaps the flue..":: : ::she herself took no notice of the event, but instead offered the now dry is not slightly stiff robe, content to be covered by her hair and some fur she's tastefully kept in place:: ::nothing quite so attractive as a girl who could literally braid her.....leg hair: ::He noticed the flames, a nosey old man was quite keen at being observant after all. He said nothing, though she would be told at a more opportune time. Enough of fire for one night as he had earlier decided. He had even forgotten of her nudity, chuckling softly. I suppose it takes the better part of three thousand years before a man stops drooling for such things and begins worrying over more important things, like drinking the milk before it curdles. Shaking his head and chuckling as he watched on.:: : Drooling" for a robe? Whatever for" ::She seemed to be completely ignorant of the ahem...birds bees or their distant cousins:: Saphira...Do put your cloak on. You're quite safe around Father Time, but the natives are....::Searching for the right word and not coming up with something very explanatory.::...ahh...restless... But it smells..::wrinkling her nose in distaste:: Can't I wash it first" ::Looking down at her very furry self, she'd never known it to be an issue before but she supposed the combination of fur and skin might be unnerving it wasnt a natural sight she supposed:: : Come...::Gathering his things and throwing his satchel back over his shoulder by the strap as he stood. Staff taken up.::I appreciate your sensitive nose, Child, but you must do as I say for reasons that I need not divulge. I shan't be beating off the young lads with my staff because you don't wish to wear a cloak which smells like ale.::Cymric's concept of beauty was as odd and ornery as he was. However, he also knew what was under the fur and how easily she could have it disappear with one : fleeting thought.:: ::She shrugged:: If I must...::she donned the ale scented robe and with a mock flourish asked:: how's it look" ::her tone telling of her jest:: Tiglath!::The wolf didn't budge.::Tiglath, you devil...::One eye cracked open.::We're leaving, Tiglath and you would do well to come with us...::The eye closed shut.::As you wish, but don't come complaining to me about all the people that tried to pet you.::The wolf bounced up onto all fours and trotted to the door, scratching at the door.::Oh...and here I thought you'd rather stay... ::she smiled at the wolf, curmudgeon he might have been called but she thought he was clever and she liked him anyway:: Cymric laughed.::Better than it smells, I wager. Come, Child. We must make our way to the cave, you must meet the neighbors. They shall all be enchanted.::That was something of an exaggeration. Moktari the Centaur was going to be most displeased at the sight of another two legger, but he was easy enough to coax. Shab the Cyclops....well, he'd just have to cross that bridge when he got there. He poked the door open with his staff.::Make haste, Child. Do try and keep up.::Said as he hobbled off into the morning.:: ::She quickly followed half tempted to assume wolf form for ease of haste then discarded the thought ::