The Frog Tree

View of the forest.
A biting cold fills the air, seeping away from a healing shrine of Manteekan nearby. It is warm and quite pleasant. The forest becomes sparse along this area of the hillside, scattered apples and chestnuts gripping the slope with their deep roots. To the north, the vista of Glomdoring can be seen through the branches. Green and brown treetops crowd together, dappled with thin wisps of white mist. A mature rowan tree stands proudly here. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. A shot glass is on the ground nearby.

Glorious rays of morning light burst forth from Father Sun's crown as it peeks over the world's edge, announcing a bright and shining new dawn.
You remove a dapper, cerulean-banded black felt hat.
You remove a cerulean-banded pin.

You have set your accent to: With a gentle creak
You will now be described as "(Towering above,) and blends in quietly amongst her siblings. Her weeping, willowy leaves cascade like a shower of slender emeralds, obscuring the gentle but sharp features beneath. Mossy patches soften her rough exterior, her supple yet sinewy form a curious blend of strength and grace. Her branches droop, the limbs falling freely around her like a thin, green curtain. There is no denying the sense of raw power that effuses from her every step, no matter how tender her footfall. The only hint of her previous life lies in her eyes, the iris clouded milky white with a watery sheen."

You sigh quietly, branches creaking with the weight of drooping leaves.
Like a gentle ripple in a crystalline pool, you say, "Well, that was fun, for a while, wasn't it brother?"

You have emoted: Cheliyi places a hand on a mature rowan tree, smiling weakly. "Like old times. Perhaps I should try it more frequently, hm?"

You have emoted: Cheliyi pokes at her face, rubbing around where the strange markings once were. "I wonder..."
You think to yourself: **a purple dracarni, blotted out by red, red, and more red**.

You shudder violently as a chill ripples down your spine.

The wind whistles eerily through the branches overhead.

With a gentle creak, you say, "... I know brother. It matters little, since I have you all. At least some people did not mind my form."
Tone disbelieving, you say, "Some of them seemed to even like me, as a mugwump."

The sharp sound of a twig snapping echoes behind you.

You have emoted: Cheliyi glances at a mature rowan tree, laughing softly. "Yes, I know what you all think of it. And I'm glad you see me the same, no matter my form. Father Ravenwood was very clear, on that."

With a teasing lilt, you say, "Well, not that you can really -see.- For once, I have the advantage on you, hm?"

The wind whistles eerily through the branches overhead.

You think to yourself: **green, bright and all-encompassing. A gentle whisper of branches is as soft as a caress on your cheek**.

You smile, lips creaking softly.
With a gentle creak, you say, "Yes, I know. But, well, that's what these are for."

You pat a pair of thin spectacles in a friendly manner.

You have emoted: Cheliyi squints out over the view, expression soft.
With a gentle creak, you say, "You all really do look so beautiful…”