Do not own Forgotten Realms.
Jessi: Romance in this chapter people.
Tiamet: Hard to write.
Jessi: Especially since all my romantic experience can be fitted quite easily through the eye of a needle.
Tiamet: With room to spare
On the world of Aber-Troil, on the continent know as Faerun a young elf stared into the flames of a camp fire.
The light flickered on her golden skin and fireflies hovered about the camp site like tiny stars, but all this was lost on Vale. Her attention was occupied by the silver, five-pointed star that lay in her hand. It was her holy symbol of Tiamet, patron god of her people.
Usually the star was warm to the touch, a comforting reminder of the Lord of Wyrms' presence. Tonight, however, and for most of the day it had been as cold as ice.
Vale furrowed her brow. There was no reson for this. She had been a cleric for most of her fifty years, faithfully serving the Dragon Lord.
Sighing she let the star fall against her chest and looked at her two companions, twin paladins of Mystra, the human goddess of magic.
"They're sleeping. It's safe to come out now," Vale addressed a seemingly- empty patch of air, which shimmered slightly.
Her dark mood was lifted as the air was filled by her greatest treasure and her greatest secret.
Chel's slender form was covered by a white-trimmed black cloak and robe. His hood shadowed his face, leaving only the eyes clear. They were large expressionate eyes, framed by silver lashes and were a pale blue-green in colour. The thing that struck Vale about them were that they almost always were filled with a overwhealming sorrow.
She had tried to question Chel about that but it was clear that there were certain memories that were even kept from someone who shared your mind.
She felt Chel's emotion's now. He was happy to see her, even if his eyes did not show it. The rest of his face, however, did show it.
When he pulled his hood off Vale scolded herself for gaping like a lovestruck child but she couldn't help it.
Chel's skin was silver, so very pale when compared to her own golden flesh. Her hair was blonde, so blonde that it was nearly white. Chel's was the colour of alabastar and tumbled down his back once freed of its bonds.
She loved him. She had been denying herself that through out her travels... they both had... Considered a freak (an attrative freak but a freak nonetheless) he had been shunned from place to place until he became guardian to her family. For five generations he guarded the Gangardi family, becoming a familar pale shadow at the Gangardi shoulder.
As she stood and reached out to embrace him, her keen ears picked up the hiss of arrows coming from the undergrowth.
Jessi: Romance in this chapter people.
Tiamet: Hard to write.
Jessi: Especially since all my romantic experience can be fitted quite easily through the eye of a needle.
Tiamet: With room to spare
On the world of Aber-Troil, on the continent know as Faerun a young elf stared into the flames of a camp fire.
The light flickered on her golden skin and fireflies hovered about the camp site like tiny stars, but all this was lost on Vale. Her attention was occupied by the silver, five-pointed star that lay in her hand. It was her holy symbol of Tiamet, patron god of her people.
Usually the star was warm to the touch, a comforting reminder of the Lord of Wyrms' presence. Tonight, however, and for most of the day it had been as cold as ice.
Vale furrowed her brow. There was no reson for this. She had been a cleric for most of her fifty years, faithfully serving the Dragon Lord.
Sighing she let the star fall against her chest and looked at her two companions, twin paladins of Mystra, the human goddess of magic.
"They're sleeping. It's safe to come out now," Vale addressed a seemingly- empty patch of air, which shimmered slightly.
Her dark mood was lifted as the air was filled by her greatest treasure and her greatest secret.
Chel's slender form was covered by a white-trimmed black cloak and robe. His hood shadowed his face, leaving only the eyes clear. They were large expressionate eyes, framed by silver lashes and were a pale blue-green in colour. The thing that struck Vale about them were that they almost always were filled with a overwhealming sorrow.
She had tried to question Chel about that but it was clear that there were certain memories that were even kept from someone who shared your mind.
She felt Chel's emotion's now. He was happy to see her, even if his eyes did not show it. The rest of his face, however, did show it.
When he pulled his hood off Vale scolded herself for gaping like a lovestruck child but she couldn't help it.
Chel's skin was silver, so very pale when compared to her own golden flesh. Her hair was blonde, so blonde that it was nearly white. Chel's was the colour of alabastar and tumbled down his back once freed of its bonds.
She loved him. She had been denying herself that through out her travels... they both had... Considered a freak (an attrative freak but a freak nonetheless) he had been shunned from place to place until he became guardian to her family. For five generations he guarded the Gangardi family, becoming a familar pale shadow at the Gangardi shoulder.
As she stood and reached out to embrace him, her keen ears picked up the hiss of arrows coming from the undergrowth.