RP:Charm, Skill, and Courage

Part of the An Ascending Dryad Arc

Druid's Eternal Tree

Eliason has taken to training in the clearing before the Eternal Tree of Kelay. The young paladin has already come far in his training over the past few months. So much can be seen from the way he moves about, sword whistling around him in intricate patterns. The man is bare aside from his cotton pants and a thin sheen of sweat glistens on his body and his breath comes in increasingly large volumes as he works. Light mutterings can be heard faintly from his direction, prayers to his God in some arcane language. As the prayers escape, a faint white glow begins to creep across the surface of his sword. The sight of holy magic being instilled in his weapon would send a thrill through the acolyte if he were actually watching. As he spins about, any that might be watching would be surprised to find that his eyes were closed in concentration.

Serene and muffled like sound beneath the water's surface; breaking waves and rushing water rolling down a vividly green cliff-side; a massive blanket of cool mist suspended in the air, soaking hair and bare, naked flesh. Madigan was far from the present place and time; she chose to transcend into an ethereal state of mind to seek guidance for her upcoming journey. She needed the order of Nature to guide her to this new companion she sought after. "Dark," whispers the forest to her, though it was her voice speaking to her from the trees. "Dry... damp..." Her brow furrows at the conflicting images put side-by-side. "The light within shines the night," the words went on. Madigan knew the riddles would be cryptic, but it didn't confuse her. She knew the words weren't for her present self to understand but for the self who would encounter the answer to these riddles when the time came. The muffled rumbling of the waterfall slowly grows until it overtakes her mind and forces her back into the present moment. To her, it felt like her eyes had been closed, her mind unaware of the current surroundings, but to the outside world, her eyes had always been open and she'd always been conscious. Her feet had taken her to a silent temple - or she thought it was silent until she heard heavy breathing and the sound of whistling air as it's sliced through. She follows the sounds, her eyes falling upon a sweating man fiercely concentrated in his craft. Her deep, green eyes dilate at the sight, though no one would really notice such a thing. The beads of pecan and chestnut shells in her white hair, dreaded and pulled back into a high ponytail, clatter slightly as she stops walking. She would remain here, content to watch the man's level of concentration.

Eliason continues with his exercises, the holy light of his sword growing brighter as his connection to Arkhen grows stronger. This connection, the one that he has sought since leaving his homeland fills him with a sense of power. Indeed, it is not he that whirls about the clearing anymore, but the essence of the divine that fills him and guides his movements. The feeling of elation at finally achieving that connection rises within his mind. His movements are a white blur now as he moves with a speed uncommon to a human. But, alas, it is the filling of the divine spirit itself that brings an end to the short connection. A sense of pride at his own achievement invades his thoughts, causing a rift in the connection. Before the presence of the divine is completely lost, three words seep into his consciousness. "Humility is key..." Then the presence is gone. All movement comes to a complete halt as the acolyte leans over placing his hands on his knees and gasping for air. It takes several minutes for him to catch his breath enough to note another presence within the clearing. Perhaps it is the clatter of beads within the dryad's hair, but something catches his attention and his eyes swivel toward the source of his discomfort.

Madigan stares back at him with lively, indifferent eyes. There was so much going on inside her that couldn't be readily seen on her face. She says nothing to him when he turns to look at her, unapologetic of her arrival at this sacred space. She smiles at him briefly, her lips curling flirtatiously - a hint of teeth before the smile relaxes a little. It's still there, but more subtle. Her skin has grown darker since her return from Frostmaw. She'd gone there to speak to the Queen herself, though she didn't know that when she was heading to Frostmaw. The place was so uncomfortably dry and cold that Madigan made it her mission to sit out in the sun for days and days without moving - near a source of water, though, of course, to regain her comfort. For this reason, her skin seemed to glow with a recent coat of sun. She tilts her head to the side coquettishly, "What are you training for?" Her voice comes out in a seductive, husky tone. Although she was speaking low, the walls seemed to make her voice resonate loud and clear.

Eliason finds his sapphire eyes captured by the sight of the dryad. Without thought, he returns her smile, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about his bare chest and the display that he has just given. With extreme effort, he keeps his eyes from wandering over the form of Madigan and he keeps them on her eyes. Her question falls on deaf ears so entranced is he with the sight of the woman and the discomfort of being so exposed before her. It is the tilt of her head that signals that she has asked a question. Had she spoken? Perhaps if he had grown up able to court women, he would feel more confident in her presence, but alas this was not the case. Instead, he stares at her blankly with his mouth hanging open foolishly for a moment before he can gather himself enough to speak. "I am sorry, did you say something?"

Madigan feels a rise of excited accomplishment go through her as the man gets entangled in her dryadic charm. "I asked where you were going," she responds. Distracted men were known for answering any question, not realizing what they were being asked. Madigan imagined it had something to do with their blood focusing itself toward one thing and not being able to flow where it needed to go so that men could evaluate questions as a man normally would and answer them accordingly.

Eliason slips his sword into its scabbard with a steely hiss. His eyes have not left the features of the dryad though a part of him screams that he should be looking away. Of course, she is beautiful for a forest creature, but the man usually has better control of his faculties. There is something entrancing about her however and it takes every bit of strength in him to finally tear his eyes away and search for his shirt. "Going? I was just thinking of heading to the tavern. I have been training all day." Once he finds his shirt, the acolyte slips it over his head and pulls it over his sweaty torso. Unfortunately, his gaze returns to her and he is trapped by the sight of her once more.

Madigan sashays forward, her petite 4'8" body carrying confidently toward him on bare feet. Her anklet jingles slightly with each step as she moves toward him, stopping quite close to him but not enough to disturb him. She simply stood within the range of familiarity - the radius around a person someone would stand in if they were friends. She smiles charmingly at him and places her hand on his arm briefly - physical contact creates an intimate bond, though it doesn't always work. As her hand slips from his, the tips of her fingers brushing lightly against his skin - a touch that usually makes the hair on someone's arm rise - she asks, "Would you consider yourself a skilled warrior?" Her eyes move up and down his form deliberately. Such a gesture would hopefully provoke a revealing answer, one that'd allow her to deduce whether he was a worthy companion to take along with her on her journey.

Eliason finds his muscles tensing at the dryad's approach. To say that he is uncomfortable in the presence of a normal woman would be an understatement. Thus, the presence of the dryad this close to him has his stomach fluttering and his tongue tied. He licks his lips and swallows hard, trying to bring the moisture back to his mouth. Her touch sends an electric thrill through him, raising the hair's on his arm and when her fingers leave his skin, there is a marked feeling of absence within him. The rational part of his brain chides him for being so easily taken with the sight of this woman, for falling under enchantment of a faerie creature such as this. For, indeed, it must be some kind of enchantment, mustn't it? No one could have this much effect on him without some sort of magic. Her question and the deliberate motion of her eyes over his form elicit a less careful response than he would normally give. "A skilled warrior?" He licks his lips again and clears his throat. "I have won enough battles to consider myself so. Though I still am no master of my craft."

Madigan grins at him, very satisfied with his answer. "How unexpectedly humble," she utters, more to herself than to him, but she made no attempt to keep the words from reaching his ears, either. "I'm on a quest," she tells him, her flirtations and charm aside. Whatever fumbling the warrior did now would be of his own doing and not directly influenced by her. She steps away from him and approaches the pool surrounding the sacred oak tree, her eyes scanning the length of the massive symbol of life. As she reaches the pool's edge, she bows her head and touches two fingers to her forehead as she whispers an unintelligible prayer in a foreign, unknown language. An overwhelming sense of serenity fills her as she opens her green eyes to the world again, a kind of serenity that radiates out from within - beacon of serenity. she glances over her shoulder at the man and returns her attention before her as she takes a seat at the pool's edge, dipping her feet beneath the water's surface as she relaxes into a comfortable position. Tiny ripples move out away from her shins and wet the hemming of her green skirt.

Eliason lowers his gaze as she moves away from him, his gaze cast down to the forest floor. Some semblance of reason returns to him and he takes several deep breaths to calm his heartbeat and his fluttering stomach. Shaking his head at his own weakness, he finally allows himself to consider the dryad's words. His fingers idly stroke the hilt of his sword as he turns toward her and cautiously approaches the edge of the pool. "What sort of quest are you on?" his voice is low, though it would carry easily in the hushed silence of this place.

From where she sat, she turned her face up to his, her face matured but youthful. She looks to be somewhere in her twenties, but she's lived for over a hundred years, and a century is hardly long for an oak tree like herself. A long life stretches out before her, intangible at best and imaginary at worst. She has so much time and so little ambition, but even with having some goals, ambitions aren't her way of life. Nature had no ambition, only a rhythm and her purpose in life has been and continues to be to move to the rhythm of Nature. "I want to please a man; I want to prove something to him. He doesn't give me the time of day," she says, her eyes looking out in front of her, straight through the sacred oak tree, "and I give him the time of months to occupy my thoughts and influence my actions." She looks up at him again, suddenly, "I don't love him, but I still want to please him." Again, her eyes reach toward the tree, a gentle frown upon her brow. "I'm looking for an egg. I'll be heading to Craughmoyle soon to search the caverns for things the Queen of Frostmaw will be paying me to find, and I hope to find more than what she's asking me to look for." Madigan's eyes meet the young man's as she says, "I could use you beside me on this adventure. I would do my best to protect you and I would only hope you'd do the same for me." A pause passes between them, her eyes not wavering from his as she adds in a near-whisper, "I'm Madigan, by the way."

Eliason pushes a hand through his hair as the dryad speaks. Perhaps it is the lingering thought of her touch, but he finds a strand of jealousy at her talk of another man. Taking another deep breath, he quells the thought and turns to face her. "I am Eli.." he states, though his thoughts now rest upon the idea of such a quest. Is he ready for such a thing? Perhaps. It would be a test of his skills if nothing else. Plus, he would learn to control himself in the presence of this forest creature. If this can be accomplished, he will be more comfortable with any woman, he believes. "What sort of egg is it that you seek?"

Madigan smiles gently at him. It's the kind of smile that makes you wonder if she knows your secret thoughts. "Eli," she repeats quietly, the name rolling off her tongue, silky and seductive. "A dragon egg," is the only other thing she offers him in the way of words. Her eyes rest upon a slowly twirling white flower moving patiently across the water, illuminated faeries dancing just over it and zipping away as they chase each other. A dragonfly approaches the flower and drops near it before reversing and moving on to the next flower. Madigan grins slightly, her teeth showing, as she notices the tickling sensation along her legs. Baby minnows nibble at her skin, wondering if she's food. She digs into her bag for something to give them and comes across a piece of hard bread. Crumbling pieces between her fingers, she sprinkles some crumbs over the water's surface, and the minnows shoot toward the crumbs, most of them competing for the same tiny piece.

Eliason nods slowly, an involuntary shiver moving across him and the hair on his body rising a little at the sound of his name upon her lips. Apparently this may be more difficult than he thought. Her next proclamation brings about a widening of his eyes and an excited thrill to his spine. "A dragon egg? That is a serious quest." Admittedly, the paladin had yet to face a dragon and knew very little of them other than the fact that this would be a big challenge to his training. His eyes trail to the surface of the water, taking in the sight of the fairies dancing across the surface as he thinks. One fairy detaches herself from the group and flutters up before his face. The butterfly-soft touch of her hand is pressed against his nose as she stares at him for a moment, nods and flutters away. A grin spreads across the face of the paladin as if the fairy had spoken to him. Turning back to Madigan, he bows low as he speaks. "Lady Madigan, it would be my honor to accompany you on your quest."

Madigan turns her full attention to him as he bows. She leans toward him and laces her fingers in his hair as she pulls him closer and presses a sudden light kiss to his lips. She lets him go immediately and stands, heading back toward the entrance of the temple. Facing him and walking backwards toward the exit, she calls to him, "Good. Don't get distracted by anything." She casts a roguish smile and a wink to Eli before turning back to face the door. She's lost from sight as she exits the temple.