So basically, this is a set of drabbles based on all of the characters from the roleplay I've become involved with. Angelic Sword, Nathalie_Cullen13, TheFinalFyler, Xepher-Vaduva, and Senick all play in this roleplay. Their characters will be better introduced the longer we go.

Thanks for letting me play in your sandbox guys and girls!


The crystal gleams brightly, the setting sun refracting through its multifaceted surface and spilling light across the dirt path where the new caravan waits. He can already see the dynamics forming, some quickly forming bonds while others resist, keeping their distance. But now is not the time to worry about such nonsense as bonds. Friends or not, comrades or not, agreements or not, they will be the next caravan.

This is it, Roland knows as he looks at the four who managed to arrive today. He wonders what became of the other two, then shrugs it off. Sometimes the caravan leaves people behind. It's nothing new.

He is not in the business of killing children, but as he looks at three faces and one sallet, all eager to set out on the road, he thinks that the caravan has never looked so young. The two Selkie girls are steady, though perhaps a bit overconfident. The world outside is not a gentle and delicate place, after all. At least they don't look as frightened as the boy whose face he can see. Determined or not to join the others, the poor Clavat is anxious, shifting from foot to foot as more and more information is poured into his ears. The face behind the sallet is a mystery, and always will be, he thinks with no small measure of sadness. He can already see that the others will never truly know their Yuke comrade, no matter how they try.

There should be others here. The merchant's daughter, the blacksmith's son, where are they? But there is not much time left, and the caravan must be away. Each and every moment is precious when the fate of the entire village is at stake.

"Should we wait?" one of the girls asks, and the others confer. Already they are becoming the united front they must be, in order to face the obstacles the world would offer them.

Whether they decide to wait--something no other caravan has ever done before--or not, Roland is already proud of them. He knows they will return next year triumphant, walking in front of the wagon with smiles on their faces. He can already see the dancing at the festival.

Though the business of gathering myrrh is deadly serious, Roland can't help but smile a little at them as he bids them all a good night. He walks slowly back to his dwelling, passing by the crystal that has been both his savior and his ruin for all these long years. Though he wishes easy dreams for them, it is unlikely that he will sleep well tonight, or for the next three hundred and sixty four nights for that matter.