Everything and nothing had changed in Arlathan. The day to day, the mundane, it was all the same. The people bustled about the market as if nothing were wrong, nothing different. And yet The Huntress could not shake the eerie feeling she got watching folk act as if nothing had happened.
Perhaps they didn't know. Or perhaps they didn't care.
She didn't like either option. Both were less than ideal, though perhaps one more so than the other.
Given that she, at least, was aware of matters, it made her more on edge. Vitaar painted into her hair and intricately across her face and exposed skin, she headed past the market with a purpose. Solana had expressed interest in renewing the wards today, and with trouble possibly behind every shadow, The Huntress would let none walk alone. Not so far as she could help it. The people here were precious, important to her Kadan. And even if she was not here now, The Huntress would continue to serve. To protect.
Arriving at the home of the council member, The Huntress gave two sharp raps at the door before stepping back and away to allow room for the owner to exit.
When Solana was ready, they'd go deep into the forest for the renewals.
Solana was ready when the raps came at her door. In times like these, especially given what Arlathan had lost, it was important to be vigilant. While she had faith in the wards that protected their home, they still needed to be checked, renewed, perhaps even rewoven in new ways to ensure they could do their work. The kind of ritual spellwork that could have protected such a place more fully in her day hardly existed anymore - likely because it was simply too long and complicated to cast in the short years people lived now.
"Thank you for joining me today. Shall we?" Her greeting was warm, but brief and to the point and they were soon on their way out of the city proper and into the surrounding woods.
"You have spent quite a bit of time in the Din'an Sahlin, have you not?" It was not a place many chose to wander deep into. Some were afraid of it, and they were right to be - forests like these should be treated with the reverence they deserved. Magic was woven deep into the soul of this place and only those who understood and respected that would do well under its canopy. To her it was comforting, but to others less familiar she imagined it would feel much less so.
The Huntress offered simply a nod to both the greeting and the question, falling in step beside Solana. Much to her enjoyment, the travel back through the city and into the woods was silent. A small creek in the underbrush drew her attention, briefly, until she noted it was Asala stalking nearby. Good. While still struggling and wary of her faithful companion, The Huntress had found a little more ease of late on the condition of the panther. And Asala knew enough to stay a distance.
Words cracked the silence and The Huntress took her time to glance back at her company. Yes. I am reminded of... she trailed off, brow furrowing as she words she wished escaped her. Kost? No... she murmured to herself, a frown crossing her features as she looked away from Solana.
Solana did not try to interpret the word; she did not know its meaning and she did not want to ascribe the wrong significance to it. She let the silence linger for a bit, giving Huntress the space to recall it on her own and explain if she could.
Eventually, she spoke again. "These woods are not friendly to everyone. It seems you are among the few who can pass without issue," she said approvingly. There was a darkness to this place, she would not deny that, but it was not inherently dangerous to everyone.
The word did not present itself to The Huntress and she let slip a silent sigh. Rather than fumble further, she fell silent until Solana spoke again. Looking back at her, she offered a light shrug. I was born in Seheron, she offered in explanation.
It was the best she could do, for the word that she wished for escaped her memory. Words in Qunlat and common swirling within her head. The dashes of elvhen she'd learned since being in Arlathan also did not help. Qunlat was comfortable, but few here understood.
It seems I can handle much that others cannot. The Huntress added, giving her vitaar slicked hair a slight shake. Her people's natural immunity to poisons - and her own knowledge of how many of the ingredients worked and interacted - gave her options few other elves could enjoy. But she doubted many would think to paint themselves in poison armor.
