Under their wing

(Glomdoring): Esei (from the Ethereal Plane) says, "How are you all faring?"

---> walk walk walk

(Glomdoring): Exeryte says, "Well enough. Yourself?"

(Glomdoring): You say, "I am well, d'aya."

(Glomdoring): Tirah says, "Things are well, the Wyrd ever provides the young among us opportunities for growth, which is wonderful to see."

Encircled by the revered Idols.
Shrouded in gloom, the feral turmoil of wyrden foliage sprawls outwards from the courtyard into this easterly niche, the ground soft and spongy with a thick blanket of mauve and virid moss and other varieties of soft ground-cover. The presence of a swarm of insects and small creatures is evident here, the buzzing of wasps and clicking of beetles heard amongst the clapping of bat wings, silvery spiderwebs catching the wan illumination of shadowfire sconces in every nook and cranny. Against the fissured stone wall, a worn, partially-crumbled sculpture depicts an awe-inspiring scene: entangled in a manner bespeaking an unbreakable unity, renditions of a hulking beetle, a giant bat, an immense, eight-legged spider and an enormous wasp surround the steady form of a gargantuan, august scorpion, the majestic insect's massive tail arching protectively over the idols surrounding it. A live scorpion, much smaller than its portrayal in stone, perches upon the rim of an offering basin held aloft upon a pedestal at the base of the statue, its sleek, chitin-ensconced form still and waiting, ever watchful as it basks in the darkness of the stone. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground.
You see exits leading north, south, and west.

(The Shadow Kindred): Tirah says, "Tirah over here with the glom version of bless your heart."

(The Shadow Kindred): You say, "It's so funny to me."

Anorak arrives from the west.

Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath says, "K'nar, K'ahe'mor said it would be best to attend to you."

(Glomdoring): Anorak says, "Aye, I am learning much, as Proselyte Takhre has taken me under their wing, so to speak."

The rich scent of earthy loam overwhelms the senses, enveloping you with the lingering scent of elder ravenwoods and piles of composting leaves.

(Glomdoring): Esei (from the Ethereal Plane) says, "I am well, myself, yes."

You have emoted: Takhre kneels in front of the sculpture, hands clasped in prayer as they look up to the Dark Idols. They do not turn to Anorak as he enters, murmuring softly under their breath, "Blessed Weaver, grant me wisdom to weave your webs and lie in wait, to have the strength of the hunter and the patience to halt my pride and recklessness, to listen and strike only when it suits me best." When they finish, the rise, prick their thumb with a splinter from their cudgel and let it drip into the offering bowl.

Turning to Anorak with their thumb in their mouth, you say, "Hm."

You have emoted: Takhre wipes their thumb dry on their pants, letting the splinter fall.

In a melodic quaver, you say, "Well. I suppose."
You have emoted: Takhre seems much calmer, now.

Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath asks you, "So... what attending can I provide today, K'nar?"
You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

In a melodic quaver, you say, "... This is not how this relationship will work, I think. You are not to be my subordinate. I am here to help -you-, k'alya'a."
In a melodic quaver, you say, "If there is anything you must ask, or want to learn, I am here to assist."
With a slight frown, you say, "For one, we should find you a better place to sleep."

Genuinely, Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath asks, "Is the ground not good enough?"

With a hint of concern, you say, "No. We are of the Wyrd, but we are not animals."
In a melodic quaver, you say, "This is in the spirit of Decorum."

With deference, Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath says, "Fair enough, one supposes. How would one go about acquiring a stable bed?"

With a frown, you say, "Although, given that you are a Shadow Dancer, that does make this more difficult. I usually sleep in my nest."

Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath murmurs, "Or, better, a way to not need sleep."

Flashing their teeth, you say, "That comes when you are strong enough, Proselyte."

Anorak looks taken aback, a bit unsettled.
Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath asks, "Right. And what should I train, then?"

In a melodic quaver, you say, "You must hunt. It comes with the progression of circles of strength, in truth."

Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath says, "I see, I see. And where should one go about hunting?"

In a melodic quaver, you say, "Well, we would join another larger hunt on the Astral plane perhaps. Or. I could drag you along to other areas like the Hives or the Prison."
Folding your wings so that you can reach them properly, you begin to preen them in a soothing motion, straightening out the disheveled feathers.
In a melodic quaver, you say to Anorak, "Perhaps, you should also offer a prayer to the Idols."

Excitedly, Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath says, "A hunt, you say?"

Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath says, "Right. I should."
Anorak kneels onto one knee, demonstrating his humility and respect.

In a melodic quaver, you say, "I do swear to not... do anything uncouth, even if we have our differences. I intend to help, no matter how insufferable you may find yourself."

You glance askance.

A throaty growl rumbling in her chest, Liadahn, Guardian of the Halls enters from the south.
You pet Liadahn, Guardian of the Halls ingratiatingly.

Liadahn, Guardian of the Halls stretches before you and yawns, countless fangs gleaming as her huge claws scratch loudly on the ground.

Anorak stands up and stretches his arms out wide.
Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath says, "I find myself quite sufferable, much to the dismay of others, K'nar. But we can work on this, one supposes. Which would you prefer of Hives or Prisons?"

You blush furiously.
You roll your eyes.
You give Anorak the once-over, eyeing him suspiciously.

In a melodic quaver, you say, "What circle are you currently?"

Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath says, "Seventy-two."

You purse your lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as you carefully gather your thoughts.
In a melodic quaver, you say, "I am not the strongest hunter myself. Perhaps we might ask the alliance if they wish to hunt, though if we do that presently, it make make it more difficult to speak and such."

Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath says, "Ah, I see. One understands this thing. I am happy either way."
To himself, Proselyte Anorak, of the Crepuscular Wrath murmurs, "A hunt, oh joyous day."

You beckon to Anorak.
Anorak begins to follow you.
Anorak follows you west.