Mythene watched curiously as the two odd men ran off, before reminding herself it wasn't her place to judge. Perhaps they merely dealt with their grief for the fallen in such a way. With a gentle shrug of her shoulders, she began to turn away when moonlight struck something reflective below her. Curiously, she turned her gaze down towards the little shrine those men had set up, and she perked an eyebrow. A curious ring of assorted fangs, claws, and tusks was left below a lit candle.
At first, Mythene wrinkled her nose in disgust. But, at the same time, she couldn't shake a nagging sense of familiarity. Extending her hand slowly, she hesitated for a moment before taking a hold of the worn leather band. She lifted it up slowly, examining the various fangs and claws as they shone in the moonlight. It appeared to be some kind of necklace.
"Mythene! There you are, you silly girl!" Caserion said loudly as he approached with his arms crossed, "What are you doing hiding over here?"
"Nothing, An'da," Mythene said quickly, instinctively pushing her arm behind her back, "And I wasn't hiding."
Caserion perked an eyebrow, stopping to look down at the shrine those two men had left behind.
"What sort of person just does such a thing?" He scowled, "They should go to the proper grave."
"Not all dead have a grave," Mythene pointed out warily, instantly earning a silencing glare from her father.
"We would've buried her if those heathens had left anything to bury," Caserion sneered, turning on his heel, "Now, let us return home. It is getting late, and I wish to retire."
Mythene frowned but nodded, following along behind Caserion as led her to the path away from the cemetery. He talked on as they walked home, blathering on about whatever thought popped into his head. Anything to hear the sound of his own voice, Mythene quietly thought to herself. She wasn't listening to his words, anyway, as she was busy tracing her fingers over the various bone pendants of the necklace. It was such a crude and curious thing, yet she couldn't shake that strange feeling of affinity she felt whenever she looked at it.
Most curious, she mused, beginning to count the various bones. There was a boar's tusk, a smooth crocolisk fang, a serrated tooth from a shark, a flat gorilla's molar, and a yellowed great cat's fang, among others. But the one that drew her curiosity most was the one she didn't quite recognize. It was almost like the tusk of an elephant, but smaller and broken. Could it have been from a young calf, she wondered? No, even then, it was far too small. Perhaps some kind of pygmy breed? No, no, she had never heard of such a thing in all her time as a druid.
Then whatever was it?
"...Isn't that right, daughter?" Caserion said, glancing back at Mythene with a perked eyebrow.
She gasped in surprise and hastily shoved the necklace into her pocket.
"Ah, um, y-yes," She said with a nervous nod, hoping her father hadn't seen.
It seemed he hadn't, as Caserion smiled, looking quite pleased with himself, and turned to face forward again.
"I always suspected as much," He said with a smile, looking up at the moon, "You've always been quite close. I suppose it was only natural."
Mythene blinked, not really knowing whatever she'd agreed with, but shrugged and dismissed it. Probably just more stroking of his own ego, she thought to herself as she slipped her hand into her pocket. She continued to fondle the necklace, counting the different bone pendants as her father began to ramble about the weather.
"It's the perfect time of year," Caserion nodded, "Neither too hot nor too cold, and it scarcely rains."
"Mmhm," Mythene said absentmindedly as she pricked her finger on the jagged edge of a particularly sharp claw.
She hissed in pain, withdrawing her hand from her pocket and examined her wounded finger, which began to bleed. Frowning, she brought her other hand over the cut and took a deep breath, preparing to heal it, when Caserion stopped and looked back at her.
"Daughter," He cleared his throat, suddenly looking unnaturally serious.
"Erm, yes, An'da?" Mythene furrowed her brow, hoping he'd turn around quickly so she could heal herself inconspicuously.
"Don't you think three centuries has been long enough?" Caserion asked, bringing his hand up to stroke his chin, "Is there any reason to wait further?"
"Huh?" Mythene blinked in confusion, "Wait for what?"
"My point exactly," Caserion nodded, "Why wait any longer?"
Mythene furrowed her brow, trying to retroactively somehow register whatever he'd been talking about prior. But she couldn't think of anything but how her cut was stinging.
"Why don't we arrange something for the end of the week?" Caserion suggested, shrugging his shoulders slightly.
Mythene nodded quickly. Perhaps it would give her time to figure out what exactly he was talking about in the meantime.
"I will invite Daras over to our house tomorrow, then," Caserion nodded, looking quite pleased.
Mythene shuddered, feeling a complicated mixture of dread and curiosity. She already knew that whatever her father was talking about, she wouldn't like it. Not if Daras Nightwing was involved somehow. But at the same time, she didn't want to ask too many questions and make her obliviousness obvious, so instead she just nodded tersely. Caserion smiled, looking even more pleased, and finally turned around to continue along. Mythene leapt at the chance to heal herself and quickly did so as covertly as possible. Then she hurried to follow after Caserion.
"You know," Caserion chuckled quietly, "I expected you would've put up much more of a fight. I know how you always despise my input."
"I don't despise your input, An'da," Mythene frowned, "You give me good advice, sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Caserion perked an eyebrow, glancing back.
"Often," Mythene corrected, subtly wiping the blood from her healed wound onto her breeches.
"Hm, you don't act like it," Caserion muttered, looking ahead again, "The way you always tell it, I tortured you all throughout your youth."
"That isn't true," Mythene sighed, "I was a rebellious child, but it was as you always said. I was naive, and I needed to learn to control myself. You were only seeking to help me."
"Sometimes I wonder," Caserion mumbled, barely audible, making Mythene perk an eyebrow.
"What do you mean, An'da?" She asked cautiously.
"I have been reconsidering much lately. I worry that perhaps in my haste to prepare you for the tribulations of life, I became one myself," He admitted rather frankly, startling Mythene by the sudden openness, "I often wonder if losing your mother hardened me too much, and if I was too strict with you and your sisters."
Mythene only listened silently, unable to fully register the concept of her father speaking about such intimate things as feelings, let alone expressing doubt in himself.
"I remember something Malfurion Stormage told me, many centuries ago," Caserion continued, "The branch that does not bend with the wind shall break."
"Yes, adaptability is an important skill for druids to learn," Mythene agreed, but Caserion shook his head, "Versatility in one's skillset-"
"I'm sorry, daughter," Caserion interrupted, stopping in place and looking up towards the moon once again, "I'm sorry for teaching you not to bend."
