[There is a long pause where one can just faintly hear the elf breathing, seemingly calm, pleasant. When he does speak, his voice is relaxed, measured.]

Has anyone spied any blood thistle...? I could have sworn I saw some growing awhile back...

[And he sighs, and can be heard faintly humming along to the lines of "Bad Romance"]

Aureln...

[His voice is soft, polite, and a touch questioning.]

Would you ...accompany me to the Festival?

Home...

[The word is a warm one, and the formerly sullen elf sounds positively elated at this turn of events. He even somehow looks better, standing off to the side in a corner lit with a primitive torch as he is.]

The Undercity! and it's all here, that moldy smell in the trade center, the heady magic in the Magic Quarter, all of it! I'm home!

[ ( Read more... )

...Perhaps Greatfather Winter can reach us, even here...

[Duibhín is quiet for a moment, likely contemplating his gifts. A new change of clothes mean a new, warmer robe of an elaborate blue and black color. He holds them up, examining them with a slightly softer smile before gently folding them and putting them to the side.And food! Gingerbread ( Read more... )