[There is a strange sense of being adrift that has troubled Felwinter since his arrival here. An aimlessness, a disconnect, memories that felt like they were not entirely his own... and a deep, boundless well of grief and guilt and pain. When he fails to occupy himself fully he instead wanders without direction, and often finds himself back on the shore where he first awoke, drawn to it like the pull of the tide. Sometimes he finds familiar objects there. A battleaxe almost as tall as he is. Leather and plasteel armour engraved with a tree flanked by two wolves. A sleek black jumpship still half-submerged, which Felspring had taken to hide in the wilds outside of Trench, only to return to him whispering fearfully of beasts.
There is nothing familiar for him here today. Quite the opposite, in fact. He senses it before he steps onto the soft black sand, before Felspring murmurs her question to him — do you feel that? — and it doesn't take long to find the source. The tree is a magnificent sight, though it clearly doesn't belong here. It has a presence that welcomes him in like the cleansing warmth of a Well of Radiance.
Felwinter tugs one leather glove off to smooth the worn metal of his palm over the trunk. Felspring materialises just over his shoulder, drifting up into the boughs to scan the tree with rapt curiosity.]
How do you think it got here? [She asks him, with wonder in her voice.]
It grew. [His response is level and matter-of-fact, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. The little drone turns her eye on him, trying to decide whether or not he's being entirely serious.]
Yes, but how? Trees don't grow that fast.
[He peers up at her as she flits through the branches like a strange sort of bird. Somehow, he thinks, this far from the strangest thing that they've seen in this place. And somehow, he can't really find it in himself to worry about it right now.]
Farther Shores - dogmom?/shifting is fine too!
There is nothing familiar for him here today. Quite the opposite, in fact. He senses it before he steps onto the soft black sand, before Felspring murmurs her question to him — do you feel that? — and it doesn't take long to find the source. The tree is a magnificent sight, though it clearly doesn't belong here. It has a presence that welcomes him in like the cleansing warmth of a Well of Radiance.
Felwinter tugs one leather glove off to smooth the worn metal of his palm over the trunk. Felspring materialises just over his shoulder, drifting up into the boughs to scan the tree with rapt curiosity.]
How do you think it got here? [She asks him, with wonder in her voice.]
It grew. [His response is level and matter-of-fact, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. The little drone turns her eye on him, trying to decide whether or not he's being entirely serious.]
Yes, but how? Trees don't grow that fast.
[He peers up at her as she flits through the branches like a strange sort of bird. Somehow, he thinks, this far from the strangest thing that they've seen in this place. And somehow, he can't really find it in himself to worry about it right now.]
Perhaps they do, here.
[An exasperated sigh.] If you say so.