When you're able to open your eyes once more, you're not sure how much time has passed, bar the fact that it's still dark above you. Someone has lit a fire, judging from the crackling pops and heat against your back. You're in less pain than before your forced nap, so while stiff, you roll over to examine your surroundings.
You don't seem to have moved at all, which is good. A small firepit has been dug and a smokeless flame is burning low, tended to by the horned beauty from before. She looks up at you as you stir, her lips pressed together in apparent annoyance. You decide there's no reason to be impolite.
“Hello.”
She grunts at you and returns to poking at the embers before her. It is somewhat difficult to tell in the ruddy light, but you think there may be a slight blush to her cheeks. Unperturbed by her non-response, you continue.
“That was some interesting armour you were in.”
Grunt. Silence.
“I don't think I've ever seen your like before. What are you, if you don't mind my asking?”
Grunt, silence. After a few seconds of you wracking your brains for another conversation opener, she finally responds. “Dryad, mostly.”
“And the rest?” You ask, your interest piqued. You were unaware that there could be hybrid offspring for dryads.
“Private.”
You nod, not pushing the matter to keep her as sweet as possible, and open your mouth to ask something else. You are silenced, however, when she looks up at you again.
“Look, if it's all the same to you, today has been a very bad day. I felt bad about poisoning you and I'm not going to kick you out of my camp in the middle of the night, but keep the questions to a minimum.”
You nod, and then speak softly anyway, stretching your ruined wing as best as you can as you do so. “It's not been that good all round. If you want to talk about it, I doubt I'll be sleeping again tonight.”
The mostly dryad's eye linger on your wound for some time before she next speaks, you content with waiting.
“What happened?”
“I flew over some trees that looks ill. When I looped back for a better look this giant insect attacked me, called a-”
She cuts you off. “A Tranquil Mosquito?”
You nod, and she sits up, staring at you intently. “Tell me what happened. Details, please.”
You are somewhat disconcerted when you see her skin taking on a distinctly reddish hue, and grass beginning to twist around her legs, hardening into a familiar armour. She seems to be attempting to do it subtly, and you're still in no shape to fight, so you begin to recount your tale, although you leave off your dungeon and the reason for your flight.
You have only just reached the surprise attack and you resisting a sickened condition when, with a flash, her skin returns to green and she starts picking the armour away as if she hadn't noticed it.
Frowning, you decide that privacy has its limits and attempt to activate your perception. Her head snaps towards you as soon as you try, and she frowns at you as an error floats up.
“That was your one chance. Don't try again.”
You nod and move to change the subject – perhaps you still feel a little laissez-faire with your current life, because the only thing that comes to mind is “Why were you getting ready to attack me?”, and you just know your temporary camp-mate is going to be less than pleased with you for mentioning it.
Sure enough, your question earns another scowl, but you meet her gaze levelly and eventually she answered you.
“If you're from Imporne you probably haven't really seen it yet, but there's a sickness in the creatures too, coming out of the swamps. Makes them violent. From what I've seen it's only carried by the Tranquil Mosquitoes, but if you ever see anything else with 'Tranquil' in the name... it's best not to stick around.” Her gaze drops, and she continues in a whisper. “Just trust me on that one.”
You consider pushing for more information, but your conversation partner meets your eyes once more and changes the subject. “What are you doing so far out, anyway?”
You consider not answering. She has hardly been forthcoming with the details for you, after all. You stare out into the dark forest, chewing your lip. You were just coming to the conclusion that some things should remain private when she spoke again.
“Mercy. My name is Mercy.”
If you had eyebrows, they'd raise at the answer to an unasked question, but knowing Mercy's name did improve your disposition towards her somewhat. You shifted your gaze towards her.
“Red Scale. I was travelling, though I might ask the same of you. It's rare to see a Dryad so far from her tree.”
Mercy shifted uncomfortably. “How about we leave the questions for now? It's late.”
You nod. “Very well. Feel free to sleep. As I said, I doubt I'll be sleeping again tonight.”
Mercy spends some time settling against the bark of a tree on the edge of the firelight before going unnaturally still. And despite your assurances, it's been a very long day, and your eyelids are beginning to feel very heavy.
When you're able to open your eyes once more, you're not sure how much time has passed, bar the fact that it's still dark above you. Someone has lit a fire, judging from the crackling pops and heat against your back. You're in less pain than before your forced nap, so while stiff, you roll over to examine your surroundings.
You don't seem to have moved at all, which is good. A small firepit has been dug and a smokeless flame is burning low, tended to by the horned beauty from before. She looks up at you as you stir, her lips pressed together in apparent annoyance. You decide there's no reason to be impolite.
“Hello.”
She grunts at you and returns to poking at the embers before her. It is somewhat difficult to tell in the ruddy light, but you think there may be a slight blush to her cheeks. Unperturbed by her non-response, you continue.
“That was some interesting armour you were in.”
Grunt. Silence.
“I don't think I've ever seen your like before. What are you, if you don't mind my asking?”
Grunt, silence. After a few seconds of you wracking your brains for another conversation opener, she finally responds. “Dryad, mostly.”
“And the rest?” You ask, your interest piqued. You were unaware that there could be hybrid offspring for dryads.
“Private.”
You nod, not pushing the matter to keep her as sweet as possible, and open your mouth to ask something else. You are silenced, however, when she looks up at you again.
“Look, if it's all the same to you, today has been a very bad day. I felt bad about poisoning you and I'm not going to kick you out of my camp in the middle of the night, but keep the questions to a minimum.”
You nod, and then speak softly anyway, stretching your ruined wing as best as you can as you do so. “It's not been that good all round. If you want to talk about it, I doubt I'll be sleeping again tonight.”
The mostly dryad's eye linger on your wound for some time before she next speaks, you content with waiting.
“What happened?”
“I flew over some trees that looks ill. When I looped back for a better look this giant insect attacked me, called a-”
She cuts you off. “A Tranquil Mosquito?”
You nod, and she sits up, staring at you intently. “Tell me what happened. Details, please.”
You are somewhat disconcerted when you see her skin taking on a distinctly reddish hue, and grass beginning to twist around her legs, hardening into a familiar armour. She seems to be attempting to do it subtly, and you're still in no shape to fight, so you begin to recount your tale, although you leave off your dungeon and the reason for your flight.
You have only just reached the surprise attack and you resisting a sickened condition when, with a flash, her skin returns to green and she starts picking the armour away as if she hadn't noticed it.
Frowning, you decide that privacy has its limits and attempt to activate your perception. Her head snaps towards you as soon as you try, and she frowns at you as an error floats up.
“That was your one chance. Don't try again.”
You nod and move to change the subject – perhaps you still feel a little laissez-faire with your current life, because the only thing that comes to mind is “Why were you getting ready to attack me?”, and you just know your temporary camp-mate is going to be less than pleased with you for mentioning it.
Sure enough, your question earns another scowl, but you meet her gaze levelly and eventually she answered you.
“If you're from Imporne you probably haven't really seen it yet, but there's a sickness in the creatures too, coming out of the swamps. Makes them violent. From what I've seen it's only carried by the Tranquil Mosquitoes, but if you ever see anything else with 'Tranquil' in the name... it's best not to stick around.” Her gaze drops, and she continues in a whisper. “Just trust me on that one.”
You consider pushing for more information, but your conversation partner meets your eyes once more and changes the subject. “What are you doing so far out, anyway?”
You consider not answering. She has hardly been forthcoming with the details for you, after all. You stare out into the dark forest, chewing your lip. You were just coming to the conclusion that some things should remain private when she spoke again.
“Mercy. My name is Mercy.”
If you had eyebrows, they'd raise at the answer to an unasked question, but knowing Mercy's name did improve your disposition towards her somewhat. You shifted your gaze towards her.
“Red Scale. I was travelling, though I might ask the same of you. It's rare to see a Dryad so far from her tree.”
Mercy shifted uncomfortably. “How about we leave the questions for now? It's late.”
You nod. “Very well. Feel free to sleep. As I said, I doubt I'll be sleeping again tonight.”
Mercy spends some time settling against the bark of a tree on the edge of the firelight before going unnaturally still. And despite your assurances, it's been a very long day, and your eyelids are beginning to feel very heavy.
