Someone else has been hiding more than a little - Robin has failed Caliban in every possible way, almost raped Iphigenia, and is feeling terrible about his various acts of lying.
Over all, he is avoiding his life, which is close to a mess (Niko isn't talking to him any more), and so he might be found up in the woods, even if it is late, even if it is dangerous.
He likes that solitude, that darkness. He doesn't mind the risk. No-one is waiting for him.
She watches him, in a silence no mortal could match. She's on a bluff, just a little above him; close enough to call out, should she want to. Which of course, she doesn't. She should let him pass by. He'd never been anything but kind to her.
But he looked like a man with nothing to lose. After all, he's wandering the forest at night, late, alone. She can nearly see his pulse in his neck, smell the hot blood under his skin.
No. She would not.
It is nearly impossible he would hear her, though he might see her, if he has better than human night vision. Part of her must want him to - she knows she should just leave. But staying still seems easier, at this point, than moving away.
Pucks have notoriously good night vision, and this one is used to living in an urban setting filled with thugs, muggers, vampires, werewolves and other night creatures. Though reckless he may be, his habits of alertness have not been diminished, and so when he sees the silhouette on a bluff, he pauses.
He isn’t making ready to turn around and run. He isn’t even considering it. The only thing one might say of Robin Goodfellow, is that his curiosity, perhaps, will be what will have him in the end, and so here he is, looking at this person with unabashed alertness.
He could hop on a branch, perhaps, and go on a higher level, to look her in the eye. He doesn’t, but rather makes one quiet sound of acknowledgement.
“You shouldn’t be out so late, Helen,” he says quietly. “Not when you’ve been as sick as you have.”
She went even stiller, if possible, looking at him. Finally, she speaks. Her voice is low, accent more pronounced than usual. "I am well enough. I simply wished some time alone." There's a chilliness to her words that is nearly a warning.
It had been a while since we hadn't seen Merlin perform any of his shape-shifting antics. Here he is, a bear, walking about slowly and sedately, perhaps padding to a stream.
She's welcome to try to feed.
T: She'll be off with a chat, more than likely, unless more is asked of the Merlin.
And I'm keeping Pandora out of this until you poke me? Anita -- will be informed by Henry. If he deems it appropriate.
A bear seems like a gift from heaven. Large enough to keep her full for several days, dangerous enough to be good hunting. All of her can agree on the providence of a bear. She circles around, near silent, evaluating the best way to go at the thing.
The typist assumes Merlin can take care of himself, one way or another.
Pandora's welcome whenever you like (though I'd rather not kill Helen off again, right away, if possible).
The bear, at the moment, isn't reaction to Helen's stalking - either he hasn’t noticed, or he isn’t feeling overly threatened. He keeps going his way, to the stream, or perhaps to a cave of sorts. One thing which is certain, is that he is going nowhere close to Merlin’s hut.
He may be baiting her away from his house mates, but that is really anyone’s guess.
Merlin certainly can defend himself. And Pandora and I had a talk. She shall behave.
Helen, having never been to Merlin's hut, has no point of reference for it anyhow. She will pick her spot well; someplace relatively close, where the smaller, faster predator will have an advantage.
She cannot stay hidden forever, indeed, and this life that she is inflicting on herself, Pandora knows well enough.
The Ancient stands, in her way, observing her, listening to her mind, trying to decide what she thinks of this. Henry asked for her help. Henry was worried that he had created a monster that could not be trained. Perhaps he was wrong.
So here she is, still making up her mind, observing Helen from where she is. Alea jacta est!
We'll do our best to make Pandora behave - she has a lot of morals, so perhaps she can be more helpful than not. At any rate, she will not do anything to Helen without your consent. ♥♥♥
Pandora does not move either, looking at Helen from where she is, golden eyes shining in the darkness.
::What are you doing ?::
The question is generic apurpose, a test, a balloon for Helen to pop or seize. Her tone is quiet, nonthreatening, but it's also likely that her age transpires.
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Over all, he is avoiding his life, which is close to a mess (Niko isn't talking to him any more), and so he might be found up in the woods, even if it is late, even if it is dangerous.
He likes that solitude, that darkness. He doesn't mind the risk. No-one is waiting for him.
T: Enjoy!
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But he looked like a man with nothing to lose. After all, he's wandering the forest at night, late, alone. She can nearly see his pulse in his neck, smell the hot blood under his skin.
No. She would not.
It is nearly impossible he would hear her, though he might see her, if he has better than human night vision. Part of her must want him to - she knows she should just leave. But staying still seems easier, at this point, than moving away.
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He isn’t making ready to turn around and run. He isn’t even considering it. The only thing one might say of Robin Goodfellow, is that his curiosity, perhaps, will be what will have him in the end, and so here he is, looking at this person with unabashed alertness.
He could hop on a branch, perhaps, and go on a higher level, to look her in the eye. He doesn’t, but rather makes one quiet sound of acknowledgement.
“You shouldn’t be out so late, Helen,” he says quietly. “Not when you’ve been as sick as you have.”
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She went even stiller, if possible, looking at him. Finally, she speaks. Her voice is low, accent more pronounced than usual. "I am well enough. I simply wished some time alone." There's a chilliness to her words that is nearly a warning.
Reply
She's welcome to try to feed.
T: She'll be off with a chat, more than likely, unless more is asked of the Merlin.
And I'm keeping Pandora out of this until you poke me? Anita -- will be informed by Henry. If he deems it appropriate.
Reply
The typist assumes Merlin can take care of himself, one way or another.
Pandora's welcome whenever you like (though I'd rather not kill Helen off again, right away, if possible).
Reply
He may be baiting her away from his house mates, but that is really anyone’s guess.
Merlin certainly can defend himself. And Pandora and I had a talk. She shall behave.
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The Ancient stands, in her way, observing her, listening to her mind, trying to decide what she thinks of this. Henry asked for her help. Henry was worried that he had created a monster that could not be trained. Perhaps he was wrong.
So here she is, still making up her mind, observing Helen from where she is. Alea jacta est!
We'll do our best to make Pandora behave - she has a lot of morals, so perhaps she can be more helpful than not. At any rate, she will not do anything to Helen without your consent. ♥♥♥
Reply
Run; the last of her kind she encountered snapped her neck.
Her kind. The thought was bitter enough to choke on. Perhaps being put down more permanently would be a mercy.
Helen doesn't run away, but nor will she make the first move.
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::What are you doing ?::
The question is generic apurpose, a test, a balloon for Helen to pop or seize. Her tone is quiet, nonthreatening, but it's also likely that her age transpires.
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::Trying to keep out of the way.::
It's quiet, though not quite deferential so much as wary.
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