temperednuvi

[temperednuvi]

Sobhita Dhulipala

[temperednuvi]

Her concern is rapidly replaced by surprise at the depths of the rancor coating Val’s words. She is not one to disagree, not when she had seen the first hand results of violence while she was escaping Iskaldrik, but as much as she and Val had grown closer than they used to be, she had never seen the noble curse. It’s a shock, but one she tries to take in stride. 

“The only true result of conflict is bloodshed and death, yes,” she says, sighing as she glances around. It’s really a shame that Haven it’s the target of the Kossith. She had wanted to visit once more, after they welcomed her so openly when she had been a refugee, but returning under these circumstances isn’t exactly pleasant. “I can do that, then. Make sure we have provisions for before, during and after the fight.”

She nods at Val’s reassurance, a wan smile flitting through her face. 

“I will let you know if it comes to that, but I am praying to Mythal that it won’t go that far.”

With an artist's keen eye, she could tell that there was slight concern crossing over Nuvi's face. She did not address it outright, but neither did she ignore it. Subconsciously, it made her feel free to express a disgust and distaste that had Val'shira immediately shuddering. She let go of hiding her discomfort as she gazed at the marching soldiers and preparing troops.

"I hate bloodshed. I hate all of this," she muttered. "There's nothing exciting about it, or beautiful, and all you hear in books about battle is glory and bravery and romanticism. Even I had bought into it. Such bullshit." She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and looking back at Nuvi. "Supplies will probably be helpful, especially since we have none from the human crown." She looked briefly and offhandedly annoyed at this. "And I have no idea how long Queen Aurea's provisions will last. Just... let me know if you're going into the battlefield. You've faced down enough violence without us. Every time it's in our power, never forget that your people have your back." That's the way it should be anyway, and the way Val hoped to keep it.

[temperednuvi]

“It’s truly not much, and I usually don’t share things without having solid evidence behind it, but—,” Nuvi hesitates, but as she considers it more and more, it makes sense to share with the man— no, with the dragon before her. It’s clear that he had walked this world at a time when Falon’din Hollow’s was still connected to the Laurelin as a whole. If there was anything that would know more about the topic it would be him. “I encountered a spirit of sorts, after escaping the darkspawn. It was an elvhen boy, one that introduced himself as Sylas, and… Well, I got the opportunity to view something I believe are his memories. They involved experimentation by magi and elvhen alike, trying to figure out how they could be stretched across the veil before they’d snap. So the first assumption I had was Aetheron, but I have nothing solid yet.”

There is a frustrated noise stuck on her throat as she runs a hand through her hair and sighs. 

“Even now, after month’s of research, I only managed to figure out that he was taken to a place known as Khaor Shesh, in one of the branches that have been cut off, I believe,” she says, biting her lip in frustration as she remembers how little she had gotten after looking for so long. “But I don’t know which branch, I don’t know when, all I know is that it was a long time ago, and I need to find answers. I need to find them, so they can be remembered.”

Sylas and those that had suffered had been forgotten, wiped away from history by those who had let their drive of knowledge push them beyond reason and towards cruelty. Nuvi can’t fix what happened, she can’t go back in time and rescue them, but she can make sure that they are remembered, that nothing like what happened to them happens again. 

Taking a breath, she sets her frustration about the unknown aside and focuses on the present, her gaze focusing on Fyren just in time to hear his words. Warmth settles on her chest at the reminder, and she nods. 

“You are right, they remember, no matter how long it has taken,” she mutters softly. “I guess we all just need the reminder every once in a while.”

Considering Fyren’s admission, she hums. 

“If it’s about the Cataclysm, I can recommend a handful of books from the Arvandoril Library that are good materials,” she offers, her mind calling the names up already. It had been where she had began, back when she was just learning about history, after all. “As for visiting Garahel… Well, I had planned to do as much, after Progress Day. I know I can be a bit abrasive when seeking questions, so I wanted to give him some time to get used to his new reality before my questions. But coming here took priority, in the end.”

A bark of laughter escapes her and she shrugs. 

“It’s a work in progress, I swear! I just need—,” whatever she needs is lost to Gwaern’s attack, and Nuvi let’s out a surprised noise as she falls down to the ground to the dragon. A oof leaves her lips, followed with more laughter as she stares at the trees and the sky. Eyes finding the dragon, she grins at him “Oh, you are very clever, aren’t you?”

"Well if you wished to share these findings with me, I'd be intent to listen; stopping the Aetherians from coming forth again, from taking any others again, it's very important to me and to my friends." Even if it weren't entirely related to Aetheron, it sounded vastly important, likely intricately tied to the Fates, the Veil, the world.

Fyren nodded, he could empathize with her pain, what loss she may have faced in that time, but Fyren would not pretend to understand her situation completely. Albeit similar, they were different; even those captured alongside Fyren endured their grief in different paths, so he tried to summarize his own truths as simply as one could. "The trees where you grew up have not forgotten you, even if they're no longer the same." He hoped that would bring some semblance of comfort, the dragon often repeated said words to himself, trying to convince himself that one day Falon'din's Hollow could be mended and brought back from the brink of such blighted destruction.

"I'm still learning of the Cataclysm itself," he'd done his research, but his own pursuits had often been mentoring Talisa, adhering to this new identity as Fyren, and ensuring the Aetherians could not find them. It'd been a long and weary decade, but the identity of Fyren was slowly fading, he was attempting to be comfortable showing the world Solon again. "We should have much to learn from Garahel, have you visited him since?" He had to figure the researcher would delight in hearing the others ventures, however dark and catastrophic they painted a picture.

"You may have to work on that if you want to glean all the information you can from the world," Fyren teased further, but persuasion often allowed one to venture farther than the simple pursuit of knowledge. The dragon still respected her motives; researchers, chroniclers, each were the backbone of keeping their society afloat - elvhen, dragon, or otherwise.

Gwaern finally swooped from the skyline with a screech, sharp claws still kind enough to only scrape the fabric of Shenuvun's clothes, pulling the elvhen down mischievously.

[temperednuvi]

There is a frown steadily taking over Nuvi’s face the longer the conversation progresses. It’s becoming increasingly clear that they are speaking past each other and not to each other, and she can’t quite understand where that divergence began. It almost seems as if it began before the conversation even began, if she is interpreting Talisa’s words correctly. But if that's the case, if she truly wounded Fyren when she did not mean to, her apologies should be directed to him and not the women before her, right? 

“Clear to you, perhaps,” she begins slowly, giving herself one more attempt to explain herself before giving up altogether in having a productive conversation with the women before her. “But I am not good with people, and I had never met Fyren before so I didn’t pick up on the context clues.” There is a slow exhalation of frustration as she struggles to make her point. “By Mythal’s sake, I wasn’t even aware that it was possible for someone who had lived in Falon’din’s Hollow to be alive in this day and age. Dragons were thought to be extinct, and although I have seen a lot of impossibilities in my travels, I don’t know everything.”

Truly, assuming that Fyren was from Falon’din Hollow’s without direct confirmation would be far too reckless and ruder than not assuming that he was, all things considered. Yes, Nuvi enjoys theorizing on things she doesn’t know, but her theories are based on things she observed, and she was a little distracted by being in an entirely new branch to her to pay too much attention to her companions. 

“Yes they do, but there are certain things that can wait until they are older. Teaching them that the Catalyst was a time of great strife where countless people died is one thing, going into the graphic details recorded into our primary sources can wait until they are older,” she insists. Children deserve the truth of the past, without a doubt, but they also tend to have far too active imaginations and there is a line between teaching them the fast and feeding their fears when they are too young to regulate their own emotions. It looks like Talisa disagrees, and she wonders if that is why she seems to have her own problems regulating her emotions of all things. 

“Before I answer, can I ask a question of my own? You seem insistent in denigrating my desire to learn of the past without obvious rhyme or reason,” Nuvi points out, finally giving into the irritation and confusion that had been building throughout the conversation. “Why would you think I would want to share my experiences with you after the conversation we have had so far?”

Talisa blinked dramatically at Nuvi, the signs of disbelief made plain in her expression. “And you couldn’t riddle together the context clues to discover that it isn’t the Kossith I’m referring to?” she questioned spitefully. The Steel was a brat by nature, but she rarely cared about anything enough to venture in genuine vexation. But when it came to Fyren? That was a touchy subject. “I am referring to Fyren at the time of our expedition into the Eluvian, Fyren who could not make his association to Falon’din more clear save ripping your precious little notebook out of your hands and forcing you into the present.” Her hands were under the table they sat at together, her nails digging arcs in the soft flesh of her palm. Little stoked her draconic temper, but when it came to Fyren? It wasn’t difficult. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying anything in addition she might regret later.

“Because children have a right to the truth, even when it’s ugly,” she argued. This perspective was colored by her own experience. How different might her life have been if she had not been brought up in an environment composed almost entirely of lies? A large part of her lack of progress fell within her failure to act and grow over the last decade, but in many ways she blamed the Aetherians for cutting her off at the knees for centuries of her life, clipping her wings and caging her like she was a bird rather than a dragon. Thus, to her, difficult truths were something children were entitled to even if she still resented Solon for having revealed her own personal truth to her years ago. Aside from this, Talisa was still considered young in many respects, especially as a dragon, thus her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled as she projected that Nuvi infantilized her as well. 

“An accident in what respect?” While Talisa’s past and her first impression from Falon’din had soured her opinion of Nuvi, she was not entirely without her curiosity. She knew it was best to be brief and to keep her commentary limited from her past of fights with Fyren and her penchant for saying things she later wished she had not. “I don’t quite remember our journey in that manner, I think the most lasting impression was the moment in the end where we all were nearly slaughtered by Lusacan.” It had not been Nuvi who saved them. It had not been any of them. It was Yavanna’s sacrifice. None of them had been powerful enough to register as a threat to Lusacan, and the fear and hopelessness Talisa felt over it agitated her.

[temperednuvi]

[temperednuvi]

[temperednuvi]

“Not as much as I would like,” she admits with a sigh, hand moving to hover over the center of the chest absentmindedly. There is the warmth of Sylan that rests there, a warmth and presence she has now gotten used to but was at first extremely odd. “I did learn something on the journey to Lysara and… While I don’t have any solid evidence about it being related to the Aetheron, if I were to guess I would say it’s related? Unfortunately, it does not paint a pretty picture.”

A thoughtful frown paints her features as she considers Fyren’s works, eyes wandering back out towards the woods as she considers the matter with care. 

“That must have been… I don’t think there are words to describe what you must have felt, is it?” She admits quietly, hand going down to grasp her wrist as she squeezes it softly. “I was captured by the Iskaran for eight years, and even that short amount of time away from Lysara and Avalon has made once familiar places feel strange. I can’t imagine the shock. If you are still in any need to learn what has transpired in your time away, I would like to offer my aid. I am rather well-versed in history post-cataclysm, after all.”

The somber air is cut through by his playful tone, and it draws a burst of laughter out of her, eyes flicking back towards Fyren as she smiles sheepishly. 

“Forgive me, I am not. The best with social cues,” she admits with an embarrassed shrug. “And after all of that, I didn’t want to ask outright, because I might not have the best social niceties but I am not that rude… Most of the time. I hope.”

A wince follows. Okay, maybe she is pretty rude. But she hopes she would be told if she was too rude. 

“Yes, Hara is a red elk I met a while back,” she explained fondly. “He has been at my side for so long, I can’t imagine my life without him.”

"And did you learn much of the Aetherians under their assault?" His presence, much like any dragon in Aetheron, had been one under complete control, scenario's in which he wasn't allowed to venture far without fabricated settings. Torture was the main culprit of his time knowing the Aetherians and Fyren tried not to let his lip curl at the brisk mention of the cruel magi.

"Time warps differently where I and others had ended up; it's any miracle of the fates we were spat out again unto this world even if it's different than what once was." His eyes are focused on locating Gwaern amidst the shrubbery and dense forests, but they often glance back to Shenuvun.

"I never hid my past nor my truths, Shenuvun, you were just too distracted to truly see." He doesn't mark that as a fault of the researcher; there had been a lot one could glean from their descent into the tampered eluvian and who could fault her for what she'd chosen to focus on instead. "In fact," playfully noted, "I gave you and the others several hints, sometimes even hitting the nail on the head."

How often could he have noted they were returning to his home without having to yell it for others to take notice? He'd built a rather careful persona, this humble elvhen attached to the warrior's guild, but even his armor emulated the scales of a pink dragon, and his warhammer was crafted with rare and ancient metal; there were plenty of holes in his elvhen life.

"I take that is your companion," commented after a brief pause of silence with his finger up to his lips, Fyren heard no evidence of Gwaern still around which meant it was only a matter of time for the dragon to tackle one of them.

[temperednuvi]

“I can provide shielding and support for the fighters,” she offers gently, hands clasping behind her back as she examines her lady. She seems fairly frazzled, and she can’t deny she is the tiniest bit worried about Val. Still, even if they had gotten a lot closer since Nuvi returned from the mines, she still doesn’t know her that well. That… And well, she doesn’t think it is the best time to focus on those issues, when there are other, bigger things to worry about. 

“I am not an adept warrior, but I have been training a bit so I believe I will be somewhat helpful,” she says thoughtfully, as she considers the scenario around them with a hum. “Of course, I can also help with supplies by growing fruits and vegetables if needed. Though that will take some time.”

"There were some in the Veil who wanted to come, I came with them- why-" She shook her head, dismissing the question that had been on her tongue. There was no need to ask; it was quite obvious why Nuvi would have come. Most elvhen either worried for their prince, for these innocent people, or for both. And, in the end, the Kossith were a threat to everyone - not just the wolves.

"Fighting, healing or supplies? If you're fighting or healing, you're coming with us." It was not an order, not in the tone that Val proclaimed it, but neither was it a gentle suggestion. It was... half an impassioned plea, and half a statement of expectation. The elves would stick together, particularly Veil elves if Val had any say of it. They needed to look out for each other on any battlefield.

[temperednuvi]

“Then I must be the one confused,” she says agreeably, her expression puzzled as she considers the woman-dragon before her. “For I am not aware of the connection between the Kossith and the Veil. They did appear in Taravell after the Cataclysm, but I don’t know of any connection between them and the Aetheron and the damage they caused.” She takes a moment to think her statement through, head tilting in curiosity. “Are you aware of a connection? If so, would you mind telling me about it?”

There is another pause as she stares at Talisa in growing confusion, as a small part of her wonders why she keeps insistent in making the oddest of assumptions about her work without bothering to ask. It speaks of a lack of curiosity that she finds incredibly baffling, if she is honest. 

“Why in the world would my research be in the hands of children?” She asks, a thread of horror on her tone. “I have studied how the Veil reacts to tragedies and other events that have heightened emotional imprints among other things which attract spirits and the like. While a fascinating topic, it would be far too dark and too complex for children to read.”

The conversation is leaving her with more questions about Talisa’s education than answers about dragons, and she can’t put her finger on why but she is feeling mildly uncomfortable. Still, discomfort will never stop her from satisfying her own curiosity and other’s, so she sweeps it aside as best as she can. 

“Unfortunately, my research has met with more failure than successes,” she admits with a sigh. “I have tried to find old eluvians and reattempt to connect them to their branches, tried to look for ancient temples within Taravell with information from before the Cataclysm… I have had some interesting results on studying the Veil, as there is an oddity on how it reacts in Iskaldrik as opposed of the rest of Taravell, and I did manage to visit what I believe is a branch that has broken off from the Laurelin, entirely by accident. So I know my research and desire to heal the Laurelin isn’t impossible, and that is all I can ask for now.”

There is plenty of time for her to find the answer to my questions, doesn’t she?

“In any way I can! As our own journey into the eluvian proved, I am capable of protecting my companions fairly well,” she says. “But I am happy to provide any other sort of help, I am no stranger to hard labor after all.”

“I’m not confused,” Talisa corrected curtly. “I merely assumed a researcher would have taken advantage of such a valuable primary source for information regarding their topic of interest when they stood before them, but you’ve never shown up at my job and told me how to complete it so I would never presume to do the same to you.” Her hands folded in her lap as she smiled falsely at Nuvi. “But your own firsthand account on the appearance of Blighted trees of Falon'din are certain to thrill Elvhen children in their studies for millennia to come.” 

Talisa was curious. A mere hatchling at the time of her kidnapping by the Aetheron and only a decade or so into living in the truth of what she was, Nuvi would certainly have the potential to reveal more to The Steel than Fyren might. At the very least, Nuvi might be more familiar with the crumbling structure of the Laurelin and its Eluvians and legends that shrouded Lusacan. She crossed one leg over the other, sitting prim and proper and quickly drummed her fingers on the table top in front of her, “Well, wise researcher Nuvi, tell me all you have learned about the salvation of the Laurelin and its branches. I am ready to bask in the wisdom you have accumulated.”

“And in what way do you think you would be most helpful?” Talisa asked. “I offered my services in making this setting a bit less of an eyesore–for morale of course–but no one seemed very interested in my offer.”

[temperednuvi]

Sobhita Dhulipala

Pour la nouvelle mise à jour absolument fab de @fablesofenvola (forum dispo ici) ♥

[temperednuvi]

In that moment, Shenuvun remembers a crucial fact that she had forgotten to take into account: Dior had been amongst the taken. She had known, in the same distant awareness that she knew Prince Ikaros had been taken, but aside from the ever-present sense of doom, she hadn’t truly comprehended it. Not until Kesor was standing before her, the fear for her brother clear on her face. For a moment, she wonders if that was the same expression her parents had made when they had found out she had ventured into Iskaldrik, but she soon throws that worry off to the side to focus on the woman in front of her. 

“Hey, listen to me,” she tells Kesor softly, hands reaching for her shoulders to hold her steady. She isn’t great with words, not like Freydis, but she cares about Kesor and she wants to help. Right now, all she can offer are words of reassurance, but she hopes it will be enough until they find a better solution. “They are going to be okay, I promise. They are smart, they can get out of whatever trouble they are facing. And we will not stop looking for them.”

Kesor allowed Nuvi to drag her inside, her body suddenly feeling all too heavy. She couldn't imagine a kind soul such as Nuvi turning her away, but the faiman felt relieved all the same. It was that relief that turned her limbs into liquid as she trudged inside, the other woman supporting much of her weight. Finally, they both stood in the entryway, the door shutting out the rain. Kesor hung her head, already beginning to form a puddle on the floor. "Thank you, Shenuvun." There was much else she wanted to say, so much that she couldn't quite form words, but a 'thank you' seemed an appropriate first thing to say.

Nuvi's rambling fell on deaf ears. Kesor stared back a hollow stare - she was there, in the flesh, but not really there. Her mind was somewhere far away, imagining what kind of grisly fate awaited her brother, and everyone else who had been taken. Dragons, kings, and brothers a like amongst them.

Slowly, she tried to think about what she needed. She was cold, tired, and hungry, but all those concerns seemed trivial knowing those she cared for where faring much worse. "I need my brother. We need our king."

[temperednuvi]

“I was part of the Iskaran refugees fleeing the country after Aetheron attacked,” she offers freely, a bittersweet smile twisting her lips as she glances away from Fyren. It’s been a year since she last was on chains, an eternity, yet no time at all. The darkness would always haunt her, but even now she doesn’t regret the choice of going to Iskaldrik to investigate the Veil. Her research is far too important, and she will keep going no matter how many times she stumbles. “Haven welcomes us with open arms as we recover from the journey, and I am here to return the help, even if I am not a warrior by any definition of the word.”

She is about to continue speaking, always ready to word vomit even amidst strangers, when Fyren speaks again. Eyes glancing to the elve (? dragon?), she raises a brow in consideration, humming thoughtfully. 

“You aren’t wrong, but the way you phrase it… It’s as if you have lived a time when those without the Light could enter,” she muses, but has enough presence to mind not to prod at this time. Things are tense right now, with the Prince missing and the Kossith approaching, and pressing might prove to be a distraction. Still,  she makes a note to look for him later to try and draw him into a conversation of what once was, because if all that she has heard and seen from him is right, he remembers the time that written records have forgotten. She needs to know more. 

Nuvi is once again distracted by his reminder that Gwaern is hiding, and she looks around with a bemused smile. 

“I am willing to play,” she admits with a laugh. “Harajatish used to play a similar game with me when I was younger.”

"I did not know you had loyalties in Haven," in the fleeting second that Fyren's eyes glanced to Shenuvun, Gwaern had silently slipped away and Fyren's eyes could only flit around the small clearing of the dense forests, hoping to catch a glimpse of obsidian scales flickering against the lush greenery around them. Fyren raised a brow, his head cocking to the side as though it was a silly question, "That's indeed what I said - only those with the Light of the tree can enter into Avalon nowadays." Within this polymorph he could tell no lies, but he'd never twisted the truth to begin with - Avalon had been his home until the Aetherians had stole him, and the others, away. What the pink dragon had returned to was not the Avalon he remembered, and the branch he hailed from and adored so intently, hadn't even existed anymore. Delving into the Eluvian, recovering the Prince and the rest of the team, it had been Fyren's chance to glimpse into the past, but even then Falon'din's Hollow had been a desolate waste, putrefied by rot and blight, war and the miasma of lingering death.

Lusacan's influence pervaded every corner of the home he once knew so well; the memory alone was staggering and Fyren was not a dragon who liked to dwell in sadness or despair. He called out to Gwaern in draconic, hoping to provoke the small obsidian dragon from his hiding spot. "I think he likes to play this game with you, you should watch your back." Fyren was certain one of them would be at the mercy of whenever Gwaern erupted from the sanctuary of dense trees.

[temperednuvi]

[temperednuvi]

Her gaze remains on Gwaern, fascinated by his flight path. There is an odd sense of nostalgia that swells on her chest at the sight, one she cannot quite explain. From what she had seen at Falon’din Hollow, it seems that the myths and legends of how the elvhen were once so close to dragons were true. For Elune’s sake, the man next to her is the very proof of that fact. She still had not forgotten how he had turned into a dragon at the end of the excursion, leaving her with more questions than answers.

 All of that legacy, those relationships, gone from one moment to the next, lost to the Cataclysm and Aetheron. Shenuvun yearns for the past that was lost, for all the beauty and the ugly, for all the memories that could not pass on. So much was lost during that time, and she wants to know it all. She wants to rediscover every piece of lost knowledge and place it back into the tapestry that is their history, so that future generations would never feel the sort of loss she feels now as she wonders how it all was, about all that was lost. They might never be able to return to what it was, but knowing how it was is almost more important in these dark times. 

“That is me, yes,” she says with another nod and a growing smile. She hopes she has made a decent impression, but honestly she had been deep into her research mode and she knows she is intense at best when she is like that. “Fyren, right? You said you were from Avalon?”

She leaves it as a question, because after the whole turning into a fucking dragon at the end of their quest she can’t be sure of anything. 

Gwaern flitted through the trees, the dense forests surrounding Haven proved a seemingly perfect training ground for the obsidian dragon. Training was a stretch, however, as Fyren often couldn't bring himself to be too harsh on the adolescent dragon and much preferred to let him dip and dive through the trees, often sneaking up on the pink dragon gleefully. Already a knack for stealth, it seemed a stroke of fate for the obsidian dragon to have been paired with Ikaros. Gwaern flew directly at Fyren and the pink dragon half expected him to barrel right into him, until he shot directly upward, circling around Fyren as he awaited Nuvi to catch up.

He shouted encouragingly in draconic to Gwaern, but the young dragon would not fly down at the moment, Fyren's eyes flitting to the scholar who had ventured alongside the others to salvage Ikaros and the other elvhen from the corruption of Falon'din's Hollow.

"Shenuvun from Elune's Veil, yes?" he remembered her rich introduction, and her notepad.

[temperednuvi]

Talisa’s response leaves her in the backfoot, and Nuvi blinks rapidly as she tries to identify why the simple words seem off. But for all that she is intelligent in scholarly matters, she has never been one for interpersonal relationships, so she ends up waving off the oddness and excusing it away. They are waiting for a battle like no other, after all, and it is no surprise they are all nervous and tense for what it is to come. The rumors of what has happened to those who had been taken are rather dreadful, after all, and if they lose the fight that will be their fate and that of all the civilians they are trying to protect. Also, the woman before her is a dragon, as she had demonstrated at the end of their trip into the Eluvian, so there are definitively social mores and contexts she is missing. For as much as Nuvi loves history, there is a lot she doesn’t know about the ancient friends of the elvhen. 

“Oh, I don’t work as an archivist, but I understand the confusion,” she offers kindly. The mistake is a common one, after all, and she hadn’t been very detailed during her introduction regarding her research.  “I am a researcher of the Veil, hoping to find a way to mend the Laurelin and the Eluvians. But I am not here for that either, I am here to help in any way I can.”

Talisa was not always the best judge of morality. She was brattish and particular, willfully petulant and often self-centered. That being said, she did possess a list of virtues as well. Her loyalty and misguided sense of protectiveness over Fyren were amongst those, and what was important to them was important to her. That included Falon’Din’s Hollow, where she had initially met Nuvi. Talisa’s impression of the Elvhen had not been favorable, finding her to have been more consumed with her pursuit of knowledge than the group’s collective task and more prone to stick her nose in a notebook than to experience the branch itself–a branch they may never see again. Talisa was less cerebral, less consumed by the idea of knowledge for perpetuity, and thus saw it as an opportunity squandered.

She also felt Nuvi had seen walking the branch as a spectacle and excursion, while for Fyren it had been something closer to a funeral. 

“Oh,” Talisa breathed in the place of a greeting. She offered Nuvi a smile in response, but hers was tight and overly-polite. “I believe we have. Have you been sent here as the official notetaker?”

[temperednuvi]

who? @fyrenxsolon where? Haven

It’s only by accident that she recognizes the flash of black as a dragon. A very specific dragon in fact. Nuvi hadn’t had the pleasure to meet Prince Ikaros’ dragon in person, but she had heard the rumors. And frankly, there aren’t many black dragons flying around as it is. Frowning thoughtfully, she follows the dragon’s flight path towards… Oh, she recognizes him. He was part of the team that headed into the Eluvian towards the Falon’din Hollow, isn’t it? Recognizing the face, she decides to greet him, and maybe satisfy her curiosity about why he had the Prince’s dragon. 

“Afternoon,” she greets with a nod. “You were part of the group that went to Falon’din Hollow's, correct? I believe I recognize you from that trip.”

[temperednuvi]

who? @talisa-the-steel where? Haven

It’s not that Nuvi didn’t expect to see people she recognized during her stay in Haven. What she didn’t expect was to vaguely recognize someone from their trip to Falon’Din’s Hollow. The trip that had revealed that Laurelin was in danger, and that her research was more than necessary. The rescue mission had changed a great deal, and only a handful of people were even privy to the information of what had happened inside. And the stranger before her was one of them. Immediately curious as to why the stranger was present, Nuvi closed the book in her hands and wandered closer to the woman. 

“Hello there,” Nuvi greets with a soft smile as she considers the other. “I believe we have met before? In a rather similar situation, in fact.”