Recent content by Faulkin

"You have to let us in!" "Orders are orders, we can't let anyone in or out during the night." Tor's face couldn't be kept from contorting. Behind him were what remained of those men and women who had departed from Drennantor now so long ago, and some of the various friends they had garnered...

"Yes, of course," he replied, "everything will be quite alright... I am quite alright. Please if you would, just allow me some time to sort out what is best to bring," he offered her a smile, and then a nod to the child, "the most I could ask of you is to tend to her while for now, and when the...

Years ago... Beneath nothing but candlelight, he wrote. Scribbled. Scratched. What were words? He hardly knew them. A lie, of course, as any who was meant to be Captain of Drennantor was well schooled in many things. The sword was that with which he drew his mark. Not the pen. He...

Cyrian looked at her for a moment, a mix of amazement and wonder and frightful uncertainty. But, despite the shock of what he saw before him as plainly as the morning sun, or the stars in the sky, despite the fear it urged in him, he was not afraid. Startled yes, but he did not fear this. Even...

The Shorai. Was that what this text here said? But... broken. No that was not here in the texts... not that he could see. Regardless of what interesting revelations she had to share with him, he proceeded to do what he believed would unveil in much the same way it had for the little girl. As...

There would not be reassurance found on his face. At least not exactly. But an understanding, and a seemingly solid one at that, was there. He glanced up at her from the pages, and then his hand settled there upon it. There, in the midst of many texts that were intricate and ancient, there...

Cyrian, for a while, did not move. He simply stood there, still as a statue, listening intently to the tale that Yvaine so quietly shared with him. And though with his back turned to her, she could likely only ponder what expression he wore, it was not one of fear or dismay. Instead, as she...

"My thanks is for you," Cyrian said, watching the little girl cling to Yvaine as though there was nothing else that could anchor her so safely. "This... is why I asked that you remain here," he gestured toward the display, "I could offer no such comfort," he breathed, lamenting... something...

Faulkin stepped into the refuge's manor, shaking some of the wetness off him and shedding himself of the cloak he'd thrown over himself. And though many had spoke well of the healer who dwelt across the street, he could not help his apprehension. This man was no more than a stranger to him, and...

He turned to her as a cloud of smoke enveloped his face and the glow inside his pipe faded. A pair of spectacles had somehow found their way onto his face, unseen before just now. He gave a look over them at her, an approving look, having hoped she would need little explanation. "Yes, I am...

There was a stern look in his eye. He was not exactly impeded, but his instinct to lay claim presented itself plainly upon his features. Claim upon the child. Claim upon Yvaine. But then again, it was only instinct, and his stern eye studied the man before them, questioning the authority in his...

Tinúviel only nodded along as the two conversed. His magics were much different from Olwynn's. They brought about protection and might, but they could do little to help them in their search. And if her elven senses alone could do no better, then certainly neither could his. "We need to move."...

He smiled, and nodded. The children had grown so fond of Yvaine, her nurturing coming so naturally. Of course she should check on them. As for the others... "They'll be fine." It still managed to trick him here and there, the ash. It fell so beautifully like snow, and rested so neatly upon...