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Orual · 09-14-2004, 07:10 PM

"Scarring is not what I would be worried about, were I in your position," Ravion said gloomily. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small flask, then handed it to Raefindan. "Do not drink this--pour a little of it on the wound. It should stop the spread of disease. A deep puncture wound like that is easily infected. That is the real danger here."

He sat back heavily, his elbows resting on his knees and his face buried. He felt three pairs of eyes on him, but did not look up. He fiddled with the bag that he had thrust in front of Aeron's foot--it still had the arrow embedded in it, a grim symbol of their vigilant observer. He touched the arrow, feeling the expert craftsmanship of the Elves. He shuddered that it would be used against him and his companions.

He turned and glanced at Gwyllion, still sleeping peacefully, her lips curved in a gentle but sad smile. Sleep makes the frailest a giant: sleeping, Gwyllion seemed a tragic hero, a suffering goddess. Under what spell did the elf hold her, that she slept like this? How could they break it? How could they get her to wake?

"Ravion, you have said little since you returned," Raefindan said. "What troubles you?"

Ravion looked over at Raefindan, then scanned the rest of the company, one by one, noting again with a pang the absence of Mellonin. It was said that often a person can "see" the absence of another: sometimes it is all that they see. Ravion "saw" the empty spaces that might of held Mellonin. "Much troubles me," he said softly. "But we can talk about such things after we have our company back together, safe and well."

He gazed into the distance. The elf kept close to them, watching their every move, listening closely to their conversations. He had Mellonin, and he was waiting for something--a sign, a bargain, something he wanted. What was it? Ravion could not fathom. He knew, though, that he would be willing to give anything that he had to regain Mellonin--to bring the company back together, to make it whole again.

He looked up at the stars, as though they might provide some answers. They held none: only cold darkness. He was a leader, but he was lost. How would he get them out of this?

09-14-2004, 07:10 PM	#474
Orual Speaker of the Dead Join Date: Oct 2002 Location: Superbia Posts: 883	Ravion "Scarring is not what I would be worried about, were I in your position," Ravion said gloomily. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small flask, then handed it to Raefindan. "Do not drink this--pour a little of it on the wound. It should stop the spread of disease. A deep puncture wound like that is easily infected. That is the real danger here." He sat back heavily, his elbows resting on his knees and his face buried. He felt three pairs of eyes on him, but did not look up. He fiddled with the bag that he had thrust in front of Aeron's foot--it still had the arrow embedded in it, a grim symbol of their vigilant observer. He touched the arrow, feeling the expert craftsmanship of the Elves. He shuddered that it would be used against him and his companions. He turned and glanced at Gwyllion, still sleeping peacefully, her lips curved in a gentle but sad smile. Sleep makes the frailest a giant: sleeping, Gwyllion seemed a tragic hero, a suffering goddess. Under what spell did the elf hold her, that she slept like this? How could they break it? How could they get her to wake? "Ravion, you have said little since you returned," Raefindan said. "What troubles you?" Ravion looked over at Raefindan, then scanned the rest of the company, one by one, noting again with a pang the absence of Mellonin. It was said that often a person can "see" the absence of another: sometimes it is all that they see. Ravion "saw" the empty spaces that might of held Mellonin. "Much troubles me," he said softly. "But we can talk about such things after we have our company back together, safe and well." He gazed into the distance. The elf kept close to them, watching their every move, listening closely to their conversations. He had Mellonin, and he was waiting for something--a sign, a bargain, something he wanted. What was it? Ravion could not fathom. He knew, though, that he would be willing to give anything that he had to regain Mellonin--to bring the company back together, to make it whole again. He looked up at the stars, as though they might provide some answers. They held none: only cold darkness. He was a leader, but he was lost. How would he get them out of this?