[indent][IMG]http://i.imgur.com/ymMAtrC.png[/IMG][/indent] ---- Kylmi lingered outside the war room, the door a mindless barrier from the remaining council as she tipped her head and willed herself to listen. Murmured and exchanged conversations, regal promises and vows and inclined respects in various pitches that she was beginning to familiarize herself with and committed them to memory. She had figured 9 - no, her Frelseren - would had followed after her, but she was pleased to at least hear that Mundhir was more accepting and willing to entrust them, starting with the one they hardly understood, more than herself. She nodded in her approval and smiled, a genuine grin that flashed across her visage when she turned to retreat to her chambers, eager to read her mother’s respondent. And she would have done just that if she had not caught glimpse of Hazim, his name only given to her so that she’d desist calling him That Bastard. Their shared glances were hostile, annoyed, a disdainful glance of acknowledging each other at best. Kylmi tipped her lips in a saccharine smirk and he glowered, shouldering around her in his heavy, bronze coloured plate. Dressed for the field she thought idly and pondered on his state of glamour as she began treading back to her room. It could only mean one of two things, or both really should fortune not grace their group, and neither of them were favouring in the least. It would mean that someone was attacking them, or gathering a force to combat against their numbers one, Kylmi’s expression darkened at those odds. It made her all the more urgent to review the missive clenched within her grasp. The mint coiled up, delicate in its fragrance and it reminded her of home and not for the first time she wondered if not traveling with Aevah and the others had been a faulty decision on her part. But she had already committed to her destination and would have to see the deeds done, or she would really become a coward and run away - again. Kylmi approached her door carved of lilies and thorns and using the vines festooned to the walls, entered her chambers that was alive in bird song. Robins, larks, and sparrows, every kind of avian was perched upon vines and thorn wreathed furniture as if patiently awaiting her beckoning, even a hawk loomed high above in the banisters and from somewhere in the thick foliage she heard an owl’s low drone and hoot. She wasn’t surprised by these representatives, but what did perplex her was the screech of a bat hanging on the posts of her bed covered in mats of flowers. Bats were not her messengers, but could only belong to one individual. A rarity in her own right: there were Nymphs that were bred with infernal beings of myth and legend, barely surviving their hellacious births. It was seldom seen or heard of: the bi-blooded offspring of Lampades and the Dark One. “Thesipha, I’m surprised my mother let you from her sights.” Kylmi calmly muttered, closing her door quietly and sealing it closed with a thick barrier of bruised ferns and thorns. She turned to face the Nymph in question who lounged much like a feline across one of her thorn impaled benches. She was of pale skin, nearly white and translucent across her bones, each definition of her face and figure seeming to nearly protrude from the membrane. She was so thin, eerily so with a solid mass of dark hair winding in a thick braid reminiscent of an oil slick against the stone and flowers. Eyes of hollow blue, glassy, the sclera a darker shade of azure that darkened into ebony edges. Thesipha was a ominous figure almost in the way she didn’t move or breath, and how her breaths were tinged with a fog of white and her ears, like Kylmi’s, were surrounded in tines and in place of antlers, her crown was of curving horns akin to a ram’s genetics. She smiled, her mouth was black and her lips pale and thin. “Klymeina,” she purred, holding out her elongated arms where her veins stood out in black webbing. “Or it is Klyphotise now? Kylomopeilia perhaps? I’ve forgotten.” The Nymph teased, her needle fanged mouth riddled with a mocking sarcasm. “It’s Kylmi,” the woodland woman answered, sweeping into an embrace with the Netherworld creature. “And why did my mother send you? You’re bound to her side as I recall.” “She wanted to make sure you were actually safe, unlike most of us, you can lie and she doesn’t trust a magpie’s letter no more than I would. You understand why.” Kylmi nodded quietly, watching the woman carefully when she began plucking flowers from their vines and admiring their colours with a silence that dredged on and on. Thesipha didn’t speak anymore, merely hummed to herself and ignored any and all of Kylmi’s glances before she deemed her appearance genuine rather than threatening - still, it was best to keep her guards up around the pale Nymph. Her fingers worked quickly to unfold the missive, the parchment an old leaf that was worn and delicate and thus fragile in handling. The ink was brown, as if aged and was in her mother’s looping script that was embellished and done with a heavy hand. The contents were what she had hoped for, and then not, detailing her worry and anger and bidding for Kylmi to come home despite her requests. She shook her crown of antlers and read on, her brow lowering in displeasure. “You’re all leaving?” Thesipha hummed. “That was the original plan, yes. Your mother and the Grotta agreed on seeking another home, the fires of war will come, you know this. There’s no stopping history from repeating itself, we’ve seen it countless times.” “We don’t know that this will be different, Thesi. We don’t have gifts of foresight, not anymore, and the Nords don’t tell, not without a price, at least to us. I believe we can stop the fires -” Thesipha laughed, a hoarse and ragged sound that raked from her throat and it stung Kylmi. “What is with this hopeful tone, Kylphotise? You who would have vouched for us running away into the wood before!” The pale woman grasped her shoulders, ignoring the shooting of thorns into her gripping palms. Kylmi’s lips peeled back in a snarl and vines writhed across her figure in agitated motions and above them the hawks and birds shrieked. “This is different, I can’t run away from this, I won’t allow the fires to reach our home again!” “What is in it for you? The Kylmeina I know doesn’t do anything without benefit.” “There are some who saved my life, I can’t leave without seeing that dept repaid.” She spat, digging her claws into Thesipha’s chest and allowing a hiss to rip from her throat. “I’m bound to remain, just like you are to my mother’s side.” “But that’s not all, I would say, you’re not righteous enough to stay on morals like those. You don’t have any,” said the pale one, nursing the claw marks on her nearly transparent flesh. “I know that, I know I’m not deserving of such comforts. But I can’t do anything else but see this to the very end. I have to.” There was a strong conviction in her tone, wavering only slightly but otherwise firm. Blue and green melded together into a singular glare and plant life wreathed entirely in thick, suffocating thickets from Kylmi’s swarming emotions. “But I can’t do it alone, please, tell my mother that we have to fight, we have to let Nature’s wrath be known.” Thesipha’s expression flickered, smidgen with a brief glimmer of awe before vanishing entirely under her vacant gaze. Above her, the bat released its roost from the bed post and fell down to her bony, protruding shoulder, gazing at Kylmi with eyes as blue as its mistress. “I’ll tell her, it’s a fool’s hope Kylmi, but I can do that at least.” It was a reluctant treaty between the two Nymphs, but it was something and Kylmi smiled a felidae fanged grin. “Thank you, I have friends venturing into Uchfos in search of the Norn, open the borders for them upon your return. I know it isn’t custom for us to help outsiders and mortals, but this is a certain exception.” She said. Thesipha merely nodded, her brow quirked but she did not inquire the details. Sometimes less known was better and from her experience with the forest Nymph and her family, she also knew better than to pry in their affairs. She turned to leave, her bat clinging to the thick coil of her hair, and then she stopped for a moment by the bench from earlier and only then did Kylmi notice the bundle settled against her vines. “This is part of the things you requested and I left a mount behind for you, I wouldn’t trust the poorly domesticated beasts they ride,” she handed over the burden, mindful of the belongings. “Also I should warn you, in coming here I came across a force a thousand strong, it seems they’re waiting for something though I don’t know what.” Her hollow eyes glanced up through her ebony lashes. “I assume this Prince I’ve been hearing about is the target?” Kylmi only nodded, her eyes shining. “I wouldn’t trust him,” Thesipha uttered. “A man’s heart can harbour more darkness for all of his royal blood, Kylmi.” ----- It was by listening through the chiseled wood of her door that she gathered what was happening. Thesipha had departed on the wings of her strange bats, using whatever magic her kind possessed to blot out her appearance from the sentries. Her cousin had been right, it seemed the Elderborn elves were seen heading in their direction, a force a thousand strong. Kylmi didn’t know if this was a gathering of attack on their part, but she would see to the Mad Prince and would serve as a representative to the woods of this world, he would know the wrath of her heart. Kylmi sought to the gifts from her mother, pleased to see that her usual wears were present and with a twist of vines she hoisted her hair into a complex twirl of knotted tresses to keep most of it off her back and neck. She fitted the lattice works of her Fernium kind, each of their species were allergic to certain metals and thus special appliances were made to every individual. Her pierces of armour were artfully tarnished and gleaming an emerald colour, malachite pieces on her elaborate head piece that wreathed up along with her antlers. Silver chain hugged her torso and thighs, every piece was tailored to her physique, aligned along her spine and every curve of her hips and bodice. Her arms were bare for the thorns at her skin and she flexed her wrists, testing out the growth until satisfied. Last she donned for her foot wear, the peculiar stiletto of each boot aiding in her swagger when she walked on her clawed toes, emerald clawed pieces finished off the entire ridging with elaborated vine work embossed along every plated section. Kylmi felt secure, confident more so than her natural state of undress and followed after the bustling of bodies, some indicating to the stables when she inquired. Thesipha had said she left a mount behind, which Kymli was grateful for, but silently dreaded whichever creature the Netherworld Nymph had bequeathed to her temporary service. Though loyal, Thesipha had a sadistic way of humour that bordered malicious and horrid cunning, ironic that she would be her mother’s closest friend and adviser through an ancient, ritualistic bond. There was a slight commotion by the stables, some pointing in perplexity and others clearly stunned and disturbed by whatever was the catalyst of such emotion. Kylmi hastened her steps, her boots sharp as she shoved her way through the on lookers and stood gaping at the sight before her. In her departure Thesipha had left a creature that Kylmi knew as a Kelpie. It was an equine, and then not, constantly wavering in and out a glamour. The slick pelt was black, of course, and gleamed like the oily slick of the pale Nymph’s hair, the mane and tail were overgrown and bedecked and tangled with bones and reeds with random pieces clumped together in braided cords that held dead vines. It was taller than most of the stable borne horses, but slender and lean rather than bulky, the hooves though were gleaming pale like bones and feathered and its mouth was crested with fangs and blunt teeth. Glancing at the head made her shudder, it was nearly bony and gaunt with the thick bangs of its mane covering most of its face. Kylmi stared into the vacant, pallid sockets of the beast and at her approach it knelt to the ground, allowing her astride. There was no reins or saddle or any tack to speak of and her vines wove through the beast, clinging to it. She scowled to herself, leave it to Thesipha to leave her a truly nightmarish creature, she would have to properly summon a mount to ride, Kelpies were deadly on their own but Kylmi wouldn’t trust herself to a beast that lived off the flesh of its victims. Properly seated and geared, Kylmi ushered the not-horse to follow Mundhir and Tarwin, hoping the Kelpie wouldn’t try to make a meal out of her companions.