From Within: Lisaera

The fresh and pungent fragrance of evergreen spruce teases your senses, at nauseating odds with the rot and tar that permeates the wyrden air.

The pointed tips of your ears twitch to hear an errant sound.

A stone bridge.
The shadows violently writhe and twist along the ground here, indicating a war shrine of Nocht nearby. A fresh breeze is blowing through the area. This small bridge provides a crossing point over the Glomdoring River. Constructed of grey stone, its edges are built up to form a low wall, whilst the centre is a well-trod path from south to north. Small symbols of birds and stars are carved deeply into the stone, some barely visible below the lichen and moss, others still clear and vibrant. Along the river, it is possible to see some distance to the west and northeast, as the ashes and willows drop back from the murky waters. To the south, a dirt track leads away into a dense ash forest, whilst the way to the north is dark and shadowy, bordered by blackened, twisted trees. A sedge of galingale is firmly planted in the forest floor. A marjoram bush flourishes here, spreading its delicate scent. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. Sprays of chervil cover the forest floor. A solstice stocking has been hung here. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. A hemlock sapling clings tenaciously to the ground here.
You see exits leading south and northwest.

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, absorbing the scent of your surroundings.

You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

You have emoted: Esei lightly rubs their nose.

The last vestiges of midnight shadows flee as Mother Night hides herself from the luminous arrival of her shining mate as he chases her across the bowl of the sky.

The sharp sound of a twig snapping echoes behind you.

The pointed tips of your ears twitch to hear an errant sound.

A touch of silver colours your awareness, subtle and muted. The whisper that accompanies the fragrance, too, is distant, and yet it speaks to you and to you alone. "An offering for an offering..."

You have emoted: Esei's back straightens, black eyes roving to and fro, searching for something that is not there.

Lilting in an atramentous, ethereal voice, you rasp, "...what?"

"The bridge again..." The gossamer wind tickles at your faeling ears, shadows waning as the presence draws closer. "Will you not come unto My altar once more?"

You have emoted: Resting one hand lightly atop the lichen-covered wall of the bridge, Esei pauses for a moment before, quietly, "...respectfully, why should I?"

"To listen to the words I would offer unto you." The glittering wind dances, infused with the stirring of ethereal vitality untouched by the Wyrd - touched, instead, by something else. Something other. "You would know of the light that I see, would you not?"

You have emoted: Esei's free hand flexes as they bow their head to stare into the water below the bridge, their reflection a warped one.

Politely, you whisper, "...very well. As You wish."

[pathing]

Glittering cavern of sapphire and emerald.
Glittering and sparkling endlessly, this cavern is filled with emeralds and sapphires from floor to ceiling. A pale light seemingly emanates from the air itself, becoming stronger and weaker like the ebb and flow of a stream. Strange refractions of the light conjure up images of unknown places and people, heatless mirages and shimmering visions that are often unidentifiable. Mists rise and blow away from the waterfall, further blurring the surreal images and glowing azure runes form and dissipate in the air, floating together in strange half-dances. An ethereal waterfall falls silently from overhead.
You see exits leading north, east, and west.

You have emoted: Esei's teeth grind back and forth momentarily.

You resolve yourself to enter the waterfall, and step into its cool waters. You see myriad strange images, each as fleeting as the last before you emerge on the other side.

The Fulcrux of Lisaera.
At the foot of a towering precipice, an otherworldly fog conceals a silvery lake and its expansive banks, making ghosts of the trees which loom around it. Diffuse moonlight paints the surrounding woodland thicket with soft luminescence, infusing it with a quality at times mystical, at others uncanny. Both the bark of oak trees and the frothing fronds of lady ferns enjoy its touch, but so too do the shadows which stretch across the labyrinthine pathways leading further and deeper into the verdant tangle, their shifting silhouettes long, dark - bewildering and mysterious. Bracing and clean, the air tastes of evergreen sap dampened by the petrichor that follows a late summer's rain. An ethereal waterfall falls silently from overhead. Thrumming softly, a shimmering silver offering bowl stands upon a rounded pedestal here. Wreathed about in vines, an elegant altar shaped from shining silver stands here, bathed by moonlight. A large elegant compendium lies here.
There are no obvious exits.

You have emoted: Esei offers the fulcrux at large a stiff, respectful inclination of their head.

Like fireflies or like willowisps, silvery lights flicker and fade beyond the towering silhouette of trees, their illumination made diffuse by the pervasive mists that churn and conceal.

The sun reaches the zenith of the firmament, pausing in his quest to allow the land to bask in his shining golden rays.

And from those swirling mists, out steps a carefree elfen lady, her bare footsteps light, hands held behind her back.

Tall, straight-backed, and eminently self-assured, this carefree elfen comports herself as though one with the woodlands surrounding her. Though a smile never strays overlong from her cheeks, her face is otherwise a composition of angles, lending her mien a vaguely owlish aspect further underscored by a pair of striking, wintry grey eyes. Midnight tresses knit into fastidious braids that run horizontally across her scalp, gathering away from her face to tumble in loosened, wind-kissed falls down her back. Vibrant as the first shoots of springtime, a simple gown of silken green hues pools about her with liquid softness, and silver threads lend its skirts a shimmer reminiscent of morning dew upon leaves. A simple silver-plated belt slings over her hip, securing an athame close to hand while simultaneously hugging her garment's fabric close to her willowy form. Her one choice of ornamentation circles her neck with dignified gravitas: a heavy sterling torc, its bulbous ends placing a pair of wolf heads to either side of the hollow in her throat. Underneath, as though framed by the lupine snarls, rests a pendant of the eternal Serenwilde upon a platinum chain, the golden medallion itself catching in the light.
A carefree elfen lady looks to be crushingly strong.
She weighs about 140 pounds.
You cannot see what a carefree elfen lady is holding.
It has the following aliases: lady, elfen.

A carefree elfen lady flashes you a tooth-filled grin as she draws near. "Hello," says she, her voice ringing as normally as any mortal voice might.

You have emoted: Esei's eyes flick up to carefully observe the lights, edging closer into the fulcrux before the lights coalesce into a carefree elfen lady. They pause, wings fluttering open and closed as they hover close to the waterfall. "Greetings," they offer, voice quiet as ever.

As you linger over the waters nearest the enchanted path out, a carefree elfen lady lingers upon the banks of the lake. With a whish of her silvery-green skirts, she plops down to sit among the grasses and leaning trees. "Come," she beckons with wiggling fingers, a twinkle in her wintry eyes. "Let us talk."

The musk of pine trees steeps the air with its particularly fragrant and cool sharpness.

You have emoted: Esei alights upon the ground, one foot at a time. When they are satisfied that the ground is, thus far, not dangerous, they too take a seat, though a polite distance from a carefree elfen lady. They offer only silence in turn, hands folded in their lap.

A carefree elfen lady dips her chin in acquiescence - to the distance, or to the silence, perhaps. Her eyes lose their twinkle, but gain no edge - they simply watch you, allowing the sounds of the woodlands surrounding her to fill the air for several prolonged moments. The groaning of trees, heavy with their bounties. The patter of water dripping from leaves, splashing upon fronds. The glassy lap of a lake, its surface still, its depths concealing.

When a carefree elfen lady finally speaks, it is to ask a question: "Do you not see it within yourself? Or do you choose not to see it within yourself?"

Almost as if they have given such a question too much thought in the past, you whisper, "I do not See anything within myself, no. I acknowledge that this does not mean there is nothing there, however."

You think to yourself: ** ... else He would not have ... **.

A carefree elfen lady's serious eyes search your face, weighing, considering. Then she turns aside to study the way the mists tumble across the surface of the water before the both of you, watching its silvery substance gain the fleeting suggestion of shapes - of animals, of flowers, of faces. "Would others consider you something of a teacher? A guide of sorts, perhaps?"

Shadows grow longer in anticipation for the return of their dark mistress as Father Sun's chase brings him closer to the world's edge.

Shimmering lines appear around the master shrine of Lisaera.

Noncommittally watching the water, you whisper, "...yes. I was the first cree-Dae Hiua'zal of the Auguries."

Tristanna inclines her head politely to you.
You incline your head politely to Tristanna.

A carefree elfen lady nods toward you, then flashes Tristanna a smile, warm and familiar. "Hello, Silver Bearer," she says. "Please do not mind us."

Tristanna smiles and nods to a carefree elfen lady. "As you wish." Turning her attention to you, "I merely wanted to know if you were finding what you were looking for."

Matsura Tristanna Myeras-Silvermoon says, "But it seems you are well in hand."

Lilting in an atramentous, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Hmm..."

carefree elfen lady's fondness is evident upon her face, even as her gaze lingers where Tristanna had stood. Then she smooths her expression, gathering herself as she looks once more to you. "The cree-Dae Hiua'zal..." she echoes aloud, fae rolling off the tongue as naturally as common language might. "...do you know what these words mean?"

Lilting in an atramentous, ethereal voice, you whisper, "I know of one translation, at least. [redacted]."

Lilting in an atramentous, ethereal voice, you whisper, "...no. [redacted]."

A carefree elfen lady nods once toward you. Her legs gather easily beneath her as she reclines, and she lifts one palm to cup her cheek. "It certainly conveys a sense of the future." There is little joy in the words - little of anything for how unreadable her expression becomes. Which is in itself, perhaps, telling. "And you mentioned Seeing. You must spend much of your time contemplating the world around you."

With a slight dip of their head, you whisper, "Yes. Though I imagine whatever I See must pale in comparison to what you do."

A light wind whips the cloying scent of roses and congealed blood into your senses, reminding you fondly of home.

Midnight shadows coalesce around a new day, and Mother Night embraces the land in utter darkness.
It is now the 4th of Vestian, 615 years after the Coming of Estarra.
There are 5 days until the New Moon

"Please," a carefree elfen lady laughs with a wave of her hand, "we need not spend so much time upon flattery. Your bearing is respectful as it is, Esei." She pauses, her laughter quieting into something at ease, the mists gently twining about her. Drawn to her. "When you think upon light, what is it you think?"

You have emoted: Esei's fingers lace upon their lap, their own floral aura dampened here. "Light..." They muse upon the word, eyes half-lidded with contemplation and recollection.

You think to yourself: ** the scalding, burning Light of New Celest - pure, and yet... unchanging, resistant, utterly Stale in any way that Matters. **.

Tranquil and attentive in kind, a carefree elfen lady gazes out upon the billowing fog upon the lake, as patient as the towering trees which loom around you.

You think to yourself: ** the subtler light of the Moon - better, they suppose, because she is a Great Spirit of Nature. but still... no connection. why would they feel drawn to something they do not care for? would never truly worry about? **.

You think to yourself: ** hm... and the stars? the Sun? well. **.

Finally aloud, you whisper, "I suppose it has never been something I have ever felt drawn or connected to, in any aspect. It is there, but it is not mine."

Lilting in an atramentous, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Perhaps it is a... flimsy excuse, for some. But I simply do not have any strong feelings one way or another, at the moment."

Shadows swirl around your arm as the Fingerblade of dha'Wyrden-cree digs itself more painfully into your finger.

Thoughtful is a carefree elfen lady's nod when your answer is spoken aloud. Her chin tips up, and her eyes wander to the darkened silhouettes of canopies, thick and crowded high above even here where they bend over the shore. "There are many kinds of light," she acknowledges. "The invasive, corrupting influence of Celestia. The softer light of stars. The changing light of Mother Moon - sometimes given to fullest brightness, and sometimes given to total darkness."

A carefree elfen lady smiles, gaze still fixed skyward. "The light within you is not of heavenly bodies. Nor is it of devotion to the children who play at being Gods. Your light comes from within you, Esei."

The forest's gathered mists coil about your limbs, their tendrils invigorating and cool.

The pointed tips of your ears twitch to hear an errant sound.

Lilting in an atramentous, ethereal voice, you whisper, "...why?"

A carefree elfen lady straightens in her seat, her gaze shifting back to you, eyebrows lifted inquisitively. "Why?" she echoes. "Why, because you do more than merely survive, I suppose. You've nurtured this light within yourself. Or, perhaps you've allowed others to nurture this light within you."

You have emoted: Esei's claws move to drum lightly on one knee, lip twitching slightly. "I see..."

The shifting mists take on vaguely familiar shapes, like memories pressing into a veil of haze. Elexia. Xiran. Others who dwell within the Serenwilde, present in your life and long, long gone in kind.

You have emoted: Esei's cheek twitches visibly.

A carefree elfen lady's eyes are not for the mists, but for you, locks of midnight hair falling over her shoulder as her head tilts with curiosity. "Or perhaps it is Someone who nurtures the light within you?" guesses she.

ou have emoted: Esei's eyes and eyebrows lift at the same time, staring at a carefree elfen lady in the face for the first time with large, black eyes. They cock their head in a similar fashion, though theirs is much more akin to that of a crow's jerking motions. "...how do you mean?"

A playfully secretive smile slips across a carefree elfen lady's face, only to fade as she gazes into the darkness of your eyes. Her own, as pale as snow, glimmer with unspoken thought and unuttered memories. "He is an Awakener, too, after all," she finally says.

Carefully, you whisper, "...yes."

A carefree elfen lady's gaze softens with a hint of sorrow, her eyes darkening into muted greys when she at last breaks her gaze from you. "You wished to know the light I see within you," announces she with somber ceremony as she rises with fluid grace to her bare feet, "and made appropriate offering. Your light comes not from without, Esei, for how could it when your very heart is submerged in the wyrd?"

A carefree elfen lady says to you, "Would that it did. Would that Mother Moon's light might find you fully. Yet the light you do bear, it comes from within."

You have emoted: A slight frown to their face, Esei rises also. They clasp their hands behind their back, eyes shifting away from a carefree elfen lady to the water to the mist, and back and forth for a few bare moments before settling on the mist.

Faces and shapes flicker still in the mists, fading in and out of view before they might fully materialize like ghosts, teasing at your memory both near and distant, distant...

You have emoted: Esei's eyes flutter closed briefly, their jaw tensing for a moment. Then their lips part, perhaps to speak, but nothing breaks the air.

A carefree elfen lady does not break the silence. She allows the trees to talk, the quiet winds to speak, the lapping of water to murmur instead. And it is in that quiet, that unbroken, tension-filled tranquility, that the mists gather about her, and she disperses into a fluttering, ephemeral cloud of silver mooncloaks.

You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

You incline your head politely to those around you.

You resolve yourself to enter the waterfall, and step into its cool waters. You see myriad strange images, each as fleeting as the last before you emerge on the other side.