RP:When Prayers Fall on Deaf Ears

Part of the Home Sweet Home Arc

Location: The Spring of Vitality

Synopsis: Will stumbles upon Gilwen as she prays to Lauria for help with the curse that has now also invaded her body. A short exchange has Gilwen informing Will what has befallen their ancestral home, and the latter offering aid should the elves ever need it.

The Spring of Vitality

The contrast here - for the present, in comparison to what lay before - is stunning. No longer does the stark, barren landscape lie void of life. Now the works of the denizens of the forest and the powers of the Pixie Druids have restored it to the full glory it deserves. A thick carpet of grass lies underfoot, moss and shrubbery making it soft and spongy. You almost feel tempted to remove your shoes if only to run through this lush blanket of greenery as no thorns or briars are visible, but decide against it as unsure who may come across you. This small patch of forest harbours a new feature than before, a glistening pool encircled by trees. The harsh destruction wrecked from the fires split the very earth here but the final effect has been far from detrimental. From the very ground has sprung a clear spring, filling the small crevice with its natural fluids as if the blood of the earth. Walking slowly over to the waters edge, you spot several tiny creatures flitting on ethereal wings about the radiant water, water Nymphs that guard this haven of life and nourishment with their Druidic magic. You cautiously lower a hand to scoop up some of the blessed water, the Nymphs paying little attention as you mean them little harm and upon drinking it down you feel a sudden rush of vitality. It's truly a wondrous act of nature and once again showing its unwillingness to give up. To your north, east and west lay the other patches of new forest whilst the southern route leads to the Old Forest.

The Spring of Vitality was the only virile patch of land in the Southern half of Sage that had not shown a single sign of corruption from the plague that had effectively destroyed the majority of this section of forest; the vegetation that flanked the little town of Kelay was still green, but had begun to show signs of death and decay, so it would be but a matter of weeks before it, too, was brown with death. Perhaps it was the blessing of Lauria and the nearness of her shrine that protected just this small section of land- the elves hadn't been able to determine a definitive reason as to why it remained bountiful, but their deeply rooted faith led many to believe it was by the power of the Ascendi alone. It was here that Gilwen found herself, kneeling before the pool in silent supplication. She was dressed simply in doe-skinned leggings and a white cotton blouse; her shoes were gone, her weapons, her armor, all missing from her person. She was the epitome of a pilgrim seeking answers. The mass of red hair that typically fell past her waist was plaited loosely down her back so that it would remain out of her face each time she bowed forward to press her forehead against the plush green carpeting that grew in this small area alone. Fervent, almost pleading tones tinted her words, spoken in her mother tongue, and she would occasionally reach forward with her bared left hand, and dip it time and time again into the waters of the spring as if she were expecting a different outcome each time.

Will Lyastri traversed the woods as if he had never left them. The half-elf's childhood, the better part, was spent here and he considered it just as much home as anywhere else. But the moment it came into view from Cenril he could almost see a difference from the evergreen days of his past, to the aged and almost decrepit woodland he sees now. While he never showed a direct gift for druidic magics, his mother, Aryanna, was a dedicated follower of Lauria and stout defender of this place. So as the bard makes his way into the sacred spring, seeing the red haired elf kneeling as such almost makes him remember the vivid memories of his mother doing just the same. Its painful to think of her, and he quickly suppresses it once more. Seeing, and more so guessing, what the elfess was up to, William takes his approach carefully. Dressed in simple leather with a fur-lined hooded-cloak to fend off the cold of winter's fast approach, the halfblood simply finds a spot as to not bother the woman in her prayers. He'd take a few minutes to really take it in, memories seemingly flooding back of him and his sister, Miia, playing by the waters as their mother cared for the Spring, and Lauria's shrine that lingers just beneath. As these fond memories come back, so does the image that haunts him. A dark image, that slowly emerges from the depths of these memories to cloud them with darkness. Shaking this off again, trying to forget, its the lingering eyes that peer out from the darkness that stays on his mind for a moment more, even as he tries to shrug off such thoughts. So, here he turns his attention to the praying woman, and says in a tone meant to alert her to his presence, as well as get his mind away from his past. " Good to see some people remember this place for what it is." He'd find a spot, with good distance between them, just in case she is startled by his appearance, and he'd lean against a tree across the spring.

Gilwen, so engrossed with her prayers, hadn't heard or sensed the approach of Will, and it wasn't until he spoke that she was jarred from her dedication. She knew almost every voice belonging to each elf that had returned to the forest following its reclaiming two years ago, and while there were a few dozen who might not register immediately with her, Will's voice was that of a complete stranger. As soon as his words broke the silence of the glade, she jerked her head up to find his person; typically a woman of cool reserve, there was an air of desperation and fear around her- it burrowed into the depths of her eyes, furrowed her brows, and nestled in her lips so that the corners of her mouth were weighed down. The elves of her conclave knew she had been recently injured, as was expected after a visit to Trist'Oth and the burglary of the D'Artes estate, but the true extent of the damage done was known to the other members of the order, her closest friends, and the healers who had been unable to do anything to repair her wound. Her left hand had begun to blacken, the center of her palm gashed, and the skin angry and puckered; the only colors that touched the wound however, was a mixture of grey and necrotic black. Whatever curse had touched her here had also begun to spread; it stretched across her palm entirely, and had begun to web up her forearm in a mere matter of days. As soon as she realized that this person who now shared the area with her was a complete stranger, she quickly crossed her arms over her chest in an effort to hide the cursed wound she now bore. "Who are you?" Will tosses his hands up in the universal sigh of " I mean no harm." as he sees the woman's reaction. " Will, just coming by to pay respects, my mother used to care for this place, she served Lauria, when the Ascendi were bound to this realm, I used to come here with her, thats all." Truth is every word. He'd keep his hands up, but he was always ready for a fight, if the need arose. The words to a song of power were at the ready, and deft hands would find blades stashed on his person. But, truthfully, he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. He'd nod back towards the deeper forest, and ask. " Whats happening around here. Why does it seem.... wrong, in the forest?" He had been gone a while, before the elves were driven out, and just came back the day before. He had some information, he knows a lot has changed, but he still needed many gaps filled and apparently this was one of them.

Gilwen was old enough to remember the days of the Ascendi, before the Ascendi, and centuries longer still, but she couldn't place his name in her memory; perhaps that might be because she hadn't chosen to take an important role amongst her people when the forest was still alive and florishing. "The forest is dying," she said simply, before rocking her weight forward, and then backward, to provide her with enough momentum to stand without having to uncross her arms and potentially show off her wound again. She'd, too, fight if it were found a necessity, but she was tired; enough blood had been shed days prior, and she wasn't keen to spill anymore today. She retreated a few steps further from Will, making it evident in that moment she did not trust him, but she continued speaking despite. "When we returned from Frostmaw after the war, it just... started dying." Her tone was wistful, and she glanced around them, as if taking in the death of her ancestral home for the first time.

Will listens to her words, but takes note of her defensive nature. Truth be told he had no clue who she was either, so on that front they are even. But, he knows she probably had more right to feel as if someone just walked into her home than he did. Half bloods typically either tried to love full on elven lives among full blooded elves, or they simply wandered and made lives where they could. Will, raised as royalty when his father and mother were ruling Larket, ended up living a life as far from either as possible. His heritage has been kept a closely guarded secret for years, as his father, Jesserios, had made a great number of enemies, and he was far too young to rule, but could have been used as a pawn after his father's fall and mother's disappearance. Either way, William Gage Ley'lare Lyastri hasn't been seen since he was just a boy, Will is how he is know to only a select few, his cover as the Jack of Hearts used during his days with the Row. Time has a funny way of erasing many things, and now that he has come back he doubts any of those names would ring a bell, save for a very few and only in select circles. He'd relax, to try to get her to do the same, as he says. " Dying? Is that even possible? Isn't Sage under the protection of the High Gods themselves?"

Gilwen gave a small, almost sad smile and a soft shake of her head in answer to his questions. She, too, had thought that Sage was protected from harm, just as many others had, but prayers and pilgrimages hadn't lifted the curse. "We were either lied to our entire lives, or Tipareth's magic was just too strong." She shrugged her shoulders and squeezed her arms tighter. When the forest had first shown signs of the curse, she, as well as the other members of the order, had hoped that the protection of the High Gods would ensure that it was simply dealt with; but as the months went on, and no reprieve given, the hope, and a little faith, had been lost. "We're... working on it." She said finally, nodding.

Will narrowed his eyes at the mention of the former Archmage, Tiphareth D'Artes. Years were spent running from that madman, mainly due to "uncle" Tyre having killed Tiphareth's Patron, Keter D'Artes son, Khamahl in a duel to the death, putting Tyre out as an outcast, his house destroyed in retaliation, wiped from all record and leaving the once noble nothing but a wanted man by all of the underdark. Some history between Jesserios and Tyre led to the drow taking William the day his father died, whisking him away with his band to live a life as his own personal thief, training him to fight, steal and a slew of various other nefarious means of survival. Even his bardic abilities are a result of Tyre's influence. The drow's wealth, obtained by his own noble birth as well as cunning leadership of his renegade band of murderers and thieves, lead to tutors of various kinds "teaching" the boy by any means to master various arts since his early childhood. Ole, "uncle" Tyre. Their relationship deteriorated quickly a few years back, and Will has been on his own ever since, but even so, he'd never want Tyre to fall into Tiphareth's undead hands. Especially if the vile lich has the power to corrupt and slowly kill a forest that was protected by the High Gods themselves. " I'm..." he was about to say sorry, but would that help in any way? A stranger saying sorry your home is being destroyed for nothing but you returning to it? Drow, some of the most vile creatures ever created, only thing worse is that damnable parasite, Vuryal. " If there is anything I can do to help, please. But if you'd like to be alone again, I've business elsewhere I can attend to. Sorry for disturbing you."

Gilwen had expected an apology; it was what most said when they didn't know what else –to- say. She was tired of 'sorry'. So when Will refrained from offering a useless apology, and instead offered potential aid, she smiled. "I appreciate your offer; I might take you up on it eventually." As for disturbing her, perhaps it was a good thing; she had been wasting her time begging Lauria for a cure, for both herself and her homelands. Before she turned to leave, to return to the Fort the elves were calling home, she took in the man's figure and face, to commit him to memory in case she met him again. "I'm Gilwen, by the way."

Will nods back as she offers her name; Gilwen. He'd offer a slight wave as she turns to leave, before he'd take in this place one more time. His mother's and sister's smiling faces. For a brief moment it was nice, but the lingering darkness in the back comes again, and he leaves it here as he departs, along with the fond memories of his family for now. Maybe he'd see Gilwen again, maybe not, but he'd stand by his offer if she came looking. For his mother's love of the forest, her homeland, and part of his heritage. And, yeah, because it'd be the right thing to do.