TT2-1b Lost in The Evening Myst by zaqxsw

Poser • Fantasy • posted on Apr 08, 2019

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Description

Mykal’s keen eyes scanned the misty forest… the massive trees looming like shadowy giants out of the chilled evening air. He could sense that something was amiss; a flock of birds had taken flight nearby and then an unsettling silence had fallen, as if the woodland was holding its breath in anticipation. His wood elven blood and life-time of stalking the great Cormanthor had left him attuned to the rhythm of the forest, but something was out of step. Then a movement to his left caught his attention, as a petite figure that nearly melded into the fog staggered between the trees and collapsed to the mossy ground. Rushing to its aid, he was stunned by the sight before him. A lithesome, clearly feminine figure; her pale grey skin scratched, scrapped, marred with dirt and shrouded in torn clothes clearly unsuited for the weather, while a short mane of stark white hair was matted about her head. Her complexion and features clearly marked her as half-drow, but even her unkempt state did not deter from her striking beauty! Myst felt herself rising out of sea of darkness; her body still ached, but the debilitating fatigue and numbing cold had faded. Her pearly eyes flickered open, only to be assaulted by a glaring light that wracked her head with piercing pain, and her hand shot up to shield them. “Hearthstone dim to the light of a torch,” a male voice commanded in elvish, and the light immediately faded to a much more tolerable level. Then he inquired; “Better?” Cautiously opened her eyes, she lowered her hand, and tried to fix on the source of the voice; slowly bringing into focus the form of a male figure. Although his light bronzed complexion and sandy blonde hair marked him as a different blood-line than her-own, his features were clearly half-elven… and ruggedly handsome. “Yes”, she confirmed meekly as she rose to sit before him and glanced about to take in her surroundings. She was seated on a bedroll, in a tent large enough to easily house four men. To one side she saw her daggers, stacked under a quiver of arrows, a sheathed scimitar and a composite long bow. Between her and the male half-elf was a small ceramic stand upon which sat the source of light and heat, a smooth looking oval object, small enough to hold in her hand. “Half-drow aren’t common, or particularly welcome, here,” Mykal observed as her gaze settled on the hearthstone, then he inquired; “who are you?” “My mother named me Ilamyst, but everyone just calls me Myst,” she responded almost without thinking, then added with a bitter tone; “I escaped Maeimydra when it burned… It took me weeks of wandering through the under wastes… only to find this!” Clearly fascinated by the object between them, she tentatively reaching her hand toward it to feel the heat it radiated, and asked; “What is that?” “An elven hearthstone,” Mykal answered matter-of-factly. “I’ve heard they were once common, before elves started mimicking human’s and stopped using magic for mundane needs.” He was used to interest in the rare magical object, and recognizing her distraction, hoped to take advantage of it to learn as much as he could before she realized how much she as revealing, inquiring; “What do you mean ‘only to find this’?”

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starship64

1:41AM | Mon, 08 April 2019

Fantastic work.

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TT2-1b Lost in The Evening Myst by zaqxsw

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