The Path Between the Trees

[verðandi]

	✾ . Biography . ✾ ​ Basics Introduces as: . Yavanna Appearance Race: . Wood? Elf Sex: . Female Age: . Adult Height: . 5'3" / 160 cm Build: . Slender, the common figure for elves Skin: . Fairly fair, with a copper undertone Hair: . Medium Ash Blonde Eyes: . Hazel Green Description Upon first glance, this elven woman appears to embody the typical traits of her kind: she stands at an average height, her figure is slender as is common among the elven people, and she is dressed in attire that is both fairly practical and of colours allowing blending into the forest. She carries herself with composure and patience, giving her a dignified demeanour that may come across as aloof, but seemingly not out of disinterest. Tendencies to reflective stares into the distance and the odd misplaced nod or hum would seem to suggest a contemplative disposition. ​ ​ ✾ ​

This page will be a WIP. For now it's WYSIWYG.

Art by Flavio Bolla (header), other image unknown, edited by me.

Background & header inspired by winterflame's bio.

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[verðandi]

	✾​ ​ Near her thoughts remained the fate that had been sealed; The truth of law in Amn had been revealed.​ Rain. Its droplets when they met the leaves drummed a symphony of sound that lulled her in her reverie; . A gentle backdrop to memories and sights that were not all that easy to remember and to see. A sheltered nook to settle in beneath the woven trees; . The strongest winds would break and could not reach beneath. A wander through the past and all the echoes there within; . Remembrance, lupine grace and elven faces, something found - concern for safety of her kin. . . . . . . c o r r u p t i o n . . . She shivered, an errant raindrop finding ground upon her brow and then beginning its descent. . . . . . . how it was washed away. Stone and weeping wood bent under iron sky and fist; . Din of sight and sound unmuffled by the evening mist. Threads dangling from the tapestry to find and safely knit them in; . Purpose: to put to rest that which was found to still remain within. Dawn; . . . . . . light shines bright behind the clouds upon all that is and could have been.​ ​ ​ ​ ​ ​ ​

Art by Milosz Wojtasik (header) and Jade Merien (image).

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[verðandi]

	✾​ Tick-tock, .pickety-pum, Raps the woodpeck at the tree. Drip-drop, .drippety-dum, Drums the rain upon the leaves. Sish-sock, .crackety-tum, Sings the sword when there is need. Hack-ack, .kackety-gum, Laughs the magpie in his glee. . . . . . . Darkness, .tempered sight. . No news yet of morning light. Rustling leaves droned out by steady whispering rain. Solitude,. save the Lucky one,. of golden eyes and sunset mane. . . . . . . Keen eyes searched, .with tree and Father's shrine behind. Taint .. . .. pressing upon the corners of the mind. Vigilance, .held silently, .in the chilly, moonless night. ​ Drumming, .dum tu-dum, Raced the hearts that would not flee. Dum tum, .swords swung, Tarnished silver, sharpened steel. Hum hum, .songs sung, Golden shadows yet revealed. Nadir; .dum tu-dum, Terror nearing, crept unseen. . . . “Hold the line!” A call, .heard loud and clear, .over crying steel and driving rain. Noble features, .clumping hair; .decaying stench of deep despair. Within their midst, .a rhythmic chant, .the work of She-Who-Sings-With-Trees. . . . “Let none through!” . . . But through they came. An unprotected flank, .and undeath broke the line. Sought their flesh, .with eyes agleam, .moving as a vile disease. Sought the midst, .the chanting there, .in twisted shapes of elven kind. ​ Him-hum, .raggedy-rum, Price is paid by those who bleed. Drip-drop, .drippety-dum, Drums the rain upon the leaves. Sish-sock, .sasheny-sum, Sings the arrow in its speed. Him-hum, .tippety-tum, Light returns and taint is healed. ✾​ ​

Artist unknown.

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[verðandi]

	✾​ He who flies through golden skies, He who knows the trees; He whose eyes reveal the lies, He who disagrees. He who's wise in his advice, He who all perceives; He who flies through shifting skies, He who shadow leaves. ​ She awoke from reverie under the shelter of Y'tellarien's Mother Tree, mind awash with partial colours .and feelings she could not quite grasp and make sense of easily. A purpose: the next steps, upon the journey needed to be seen. The ungraspable coalesced, eventually. .Words that were out of place, seemingly: ​ Open mind is often preconceived; Conviction dictates how things are perceived. . Seek you comfort, seek you strife? . Seek you villains on your way through life? . Seek you truth, or are shadows rife? Perception mirrors always what's believed. ​ ​ She shook her head, as the string of words formed a pattern and a weave. The pieces would fit together eventually. To Suldanessellar. .That is where the path now would lead. ​ ✾​ ​

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