Rivka sat on a tree stump. Her quarterstaff lay on the ground next to her seeming forgotten. Her brown hair fell in waves around her shoulders while her green eyes stared intently at a tree. She was dressed in a priestess outfit, red and white draped over her body, completed with a rosary around her neck which she played with absently. Although she spoke out loud there was no response from anyone else. She didn’t seem as though she was talking with herself however, but as though she was caring on half of a conversation with someone else. A lantern sat at beside the quarter staff close to the tree she was staring at.((Spell: Whispering of the Grasses))

”I told you it’s contained stop worrying about it please,” Rivka rubbed her temples as she stared at the tree, looking utterly exhausted from the effort, as though she had been here a long time. ”Now please just tell me what I need to know,”

She passed here, white hair, sword, tall, very tall. It was snowing.

”No. No. For the third time, that’s too long ago. I need to know about a week ago. Sunny! Bright! Not snowing!”

Please put out the fire.

”It...is...contained. Please. A girl. She’s young. Blond. Tall. Passed by when it was sunny!"

She passed here, white hair, sword, tall, very tall. It was snowing.

With a frustrated noise she waved her hand in the air and slumped down on the stump. She sighed and brushed her hair back out of her face before she picked up her lantern, the sliver of light that she had when she started the conversation was gone, as she had predicted it would be, and the lantern provided the only light now. ”Of course I pick the stupidest tree to talk to.” She said the words to herself before sighing again. She was tired but didn’t feel like leaving just yet.

Mathideton sat once more on his stump in his little clearing, carving once again. Wood shaving covered the spot around the stump, a nice little cushioned carpet. Mathideton hit the grain of the piece and the spear stopped cutting through. Mathideton frowned in frustration and pushed. The spearhead jumped through and nicked his thumb, drawing two beads of dark red blood. Mathideton sighed and brought his thumb to his lips, sucking on the wound while he put away his stuff.

The satyr stood, knees creaking. He had lost track of time sitting there, absorbed in his work. Perhaps a nice long walk would ease his pains. The satyr pulled his pipes from the pouch swinging by a fine chain at his hip and began walking, flexing his fingers as he prepared.

When the pipes hit his lips, a melody began echoing through the forest, the instrument containing the sounds of the forest, every chirp, every groan. He played hypnotically, musical tendencies of his race helping him along. He played one of his favorite elven melodies, helped along a little by the music of the forest.

The satyr faded into a lighthearted upbeat song, walking along a well-worn path, beaten to dirt by passing hooves. Mathideton's fingers fluttered over the pipe's holes while his closed eyes flickered back and forth. His song faltered when he felt something, a magic of the forest. The satyr frowned lightly as he saw smoke.

Walking the paths, he played softly, curiously. The source of the disturbance became known when he spotted an elf sitting on a stump, speaking to a tree. The satyr felt the tree's nervousness, but could not hear it's words. As his long, enchanting song came to a close, he leaned against the tree and looked at the woman with opened eyes.

“Not stupid, just nervous. Fire tends to do that to the plants.” He patted the trunk of the old tree. The satyr winked at the woman and closed his fist and muttered. When he opened his cupped hands held cool, clear water. Mathideton threw the water on the fire, extinguishing it with a puff of smoke.

“Who might you be?” Mathideton asked in an upbeat mood, put so by his own songs.

Rivka jumped at the voice but soon settled herself back down, easing her beating heart. ”Nervous... right.” Rivka nodded her head once as though confirming his words to herself. It didn’t matter now, the information had come a little late for her, and she didn’t feel like starting up a conversation with the tree once more. Finally she stood and faced the man. Rivka brushed off her clothing and then gave a slight curtsy to the man. ”My name is Rivka. What may I call you?”

Rivka was tired and worn down. Even though she kept her spell up without even thinking sometimes she became aware of the small and constant drain it had on her. She was aware of it now. She wanted to drop the illusion of priestess, but to be honest the form amused her. What better for a sorceress to disguise herself as? No one suspected it and since she was a follower of... well one of the gods, and she usually got a few things for free along the way. That sat well enough with her. If she dropped the illusion now, while someone was watching she risked revealing herself. She wished she hadn’t even worn the illusion but it was a habit now.

”What are you doing out in the forest?” Other than his instrument she saw no reason for him to be wandering around.

The large, black-brown satyr smiled at her reaction to his sudden appearance. He gave a bow, goat legs bending down with him. “Nice to meet you, Miss Rivka. My name is Mathideton, Bard and Druid.” He smiled at her, jade green eyes sparkling. She appeared to be a priestess of some sort, but from the sound of her voice earlier, she seemed tired. Just a little, but not unnoticeable. With a hint of curiosity, he wondered something.

“Me? I live here. A guardian of the forest. I tend the plants and take care of unwelcome visitors when I can.” Mathideton grinned at her, then gave her a serious look as he glanced over her clothes. “Ah, a priestess? Of what god, might I ask? not quite an expert on these things, you see.” Mathideton asked, a wry grin on his face. He knew little of the gods himself, other than the goddess of nature.

But surely a priestess would be ablo to come up with the answer right away. This was his way of seeing a little bit of who she was. If she gave a straight, quick answer he could be sure and put it out of mind. But if she couldn't respond immediately, perhaps she wasn't a priestess after all? Mathideton put many of his contacts through similar tests. It was more a matter of getting to know them better than anything.

But on a couple occasions, it had served him well.

“What is a nice girl like you doing out in these woods anyhow other than talking to trees? It's hardly a fun activity.” He said teasingly.

”Mathideton,” She repeated the name under her breath to make sure she would remember it throughout the conversation. His next question didn’t surprise her, but she was unprepared to give him an answer. She quickly listed off the gods she knew of. Enelya would have been her first choice but since he was a man of the nature she didn’t think she could match his knowledge of the goddess. So she went with the second logical choice. ”The God of Light of course. Gregory Faust.” She let out a small, light laugh that floated between them.

She let the mood stay light, knowing that if she got awkward then he would suspect something was amiss. She chided herself for not having already set up a god to belong to and serve. She hadn’t had the foresight since very few actually asked her that question. They seemed content to assume she was a Priestess of whatever god they chose.

”I would have to agree with you there. They don’t seem to understand what I want.” She smiled, although on the inside she was annoyed that the trees here had been unable to help her on her quest. ”Right now I’m just between towns. I’m searching for someone you see.” A little truth always seemed to help things out since... well you weren’t lying you just weren’t telling them everything. ”I just came from Norwood Village. Do you know what the next nearest town is?” In all honesty she was just trying to distract the man from her bumble with the Gods before.

Mathideton smiled at the slightest of pauses before she gave the name. “Ah, I see.” He said warmly. The pause was too brief to mean anything to him, but he stored it away to chew over later. The satyr shrugged at her question. “Finding a friend can get quite difficult. But alas, I do not know what town is nearest. I hardly ever leave norwood to visit the village, to tell the truth.” He shrugged again.

“I'm sorry I cannot help you.” Mathideton patted the tree once more before taking a seat with his pipes. He looked at them for a moment, flexing his fingers. Mathideton took a deep breath, then tried to blow, but his throat was too dry. “Hmm...” He said to himself, looking around. The nearest source of water was the lake, and it was a ways away.

Mathideton clamped his hands together and made water again, filling his cupped hands from nowhere. The satyr took a good, long drink and sighed, looking at the water left over. He pulled a small cup from the pouch at his side and filled it, offering it to her.

Having cast the same spell within minutes, he felt quite magically tired for a small while. Mathideton was as energetic as ever, however. He brought his pipes to his lips once more and blew a single, low note. The magical water left him satisfied and he began playing smoothly,

The satyr looked at the woman as he played, smiling. The tune was soft and lighthearted, the foundational beat of the tune based off a birdsong. He closed his eyes slowly as he remembered the tune, notes coming to him as he played.

Rivka waved him off when he said he didn’t know the distance to the next town. ”No matter. I’d have to walk the same distance if I knew it or not.” She watched the man make water and happily accepted the small amount he offered her. If she had shown her real self she doubted she would get such treatment. It was good to be a deceiver. She smiled to herself as she raised the cup to her lips, watching over the rim as Mathideton raised the flute to his mouth.

Rivka didn’t exactly like the upbeat song; she preferred the slow, melodic, depressing ones. But still the person she pretended to be would like this type and so she smiled at the man and closed her eyes. Her body swayed with the music but her mind was elsewhere. She opened her eyes and watched Mathideton play for a moment. ”Oh Mathideton... Can I call you something shorter? But... Apart from that, what other songs do you know?” She was hoping he would play something more... dark, but somehow she doubted it.

Mathideton smiled at her as he slowed to a stop. She pretended to like it, but that was it. Pretended. He was good enough to do it when he wanted to, and to recognize pretending when he saw it. But that did not kill his mood. He would have to merely find something she preferred better.

Mathideton pondered the first question. Nobody but a little girl had asked him that before, and the name he had given her was rather childish. Perhaps a bit more serious? “Hmm... I have no other nicknames, but I guess Mathid would suffice.” He shrugged helplessly and chuckled.

Even as she asked her second question, Mathideton smiled. He could tell from her performance that she liked another type of music. “Too fast for you? I get that sometimes. It makes for good celebration music, but the real art is in the slower ones.” He winked and thought of an appropriate one while a small breeze blew through the woods.

The howling, lamenting sound of the wind gave him an idea. Without any further words, He began playing a deep, low song, starting off slow, then climbing quickly, then dropping low again. It was the type of melody, a sorrowful lullaby that made your body move slowly along with it. The deepest sounds came from the pipes that could be produced from the instrument. The pipes were faerie made, and had their own magic about them, nothing directly affecting, but it made the quality of the sound more beautiful.

The haunting melody echoed throughout the woods, carried by the wind. Mathideton swayed with the song, drawn in by his own music. As he finished, he winked at the woman and smiled. “Not a master of it, by any means, but I think it was a fair reproduction, eh? The higher, faster songs require a bit of speed and skill, but these take art and imagination.” Mathideton was calmed from his normally energetic self.

Rivka pondered over his short form name. She didn’t really want to call him Math, that’d be odd. But the name ”Mathid,” it sounded alright on her tongue. ”That works a lot better than Mathideton. I think I might actually remember this one,” She teased him, letting a smile slip onto her features to let him know that. She somehow wished this one was more... bad. He seemed so good. Those were ones she couldn’t seem to relate to. Goody-Goodies who thought they’d always win and were so much better. She inwardly sighed, cursing her luck.

But he seemed nice enough because he changed his music, somehow reading the type she liked. It made her smile genuinely for a moment as she listened to it. Her body moved with the music and her eyes closed, finally imagining the music in her mind, a mix of colors and images. When he stopped she opened her eyes and regarded him. ”Oh don’t stop. It was wonderful.” For once she really meant it. She wanted to keep listening to him play the sad, slow songs.

Then a chill hit her and she shivered. ”Do you have anywhere to do where we might be able to start a fire. I’m freezing!”

Mathideton thought about her question for a moment. There was a cave not far from here where they would be able to start a fire. He nodded and smiled at her. “If you don't mind caves, sure. There's one a little ways down the trail.” Mathideton smiled, standing up. She asked him not to stop, to keep playing. The satyr grinned and lifted the pipes to his mouth once more, starting off where he left off. It was a song that could be played over and over again, the parts were long and sufficiently different that he could play them repeatedly, playing the slowed ending whenever he tired of it.

The satyr smiled and waved a hand to the side, indicating the path. The gesture was intended for her to go first, being the gentleman that he was. Truth be told, he simply didn't trust her well enough to have her be behind him. Something was off about her and he intended to find out what it was.

Mathideton chuckled and paused in his playing long enough to say “After you.”, then continued his song. The low hums of the pipes echoed throughout the forest, inside the trees. It was a song of the forest, not elven or even based off it. He had created it by himself, listening to the sounds of the forest.

His fingers fluttered with surprising grace for such large hands, clawed fingers hitting the holes on the top perfectly.

”Caves work well enough,” Rivka rose from her seat and gaze up at the sky. She was happy that he had a cave instead of somewhere out in the open. With a fire in a cave there would be no wind to blow it in her face or make her shiver and chilled. The more she thought about the cave the more she liked the idea. She had been walking outside all day and something resembling indoors was good enough for out in the middle of nowhere.

As he played the tune she walked forward, letting him herd her along to the cave. Instead of letting her mind, or his for that matter, wander she started up a conversation. She didn’t know any jokes or anything of the sort for light humor. In fact she was usually very bad with people. ”Why do you live out in these woods Mathid? I think I’d prefer the city.” She smiled and looked back at him over her shoulder.

Once she turned around she held her lantern low and kept her eyes on the ground... making sure not to trip or stumble over a stray root or rock. ”How far? Is the Cave I mean?”

Mathideton shrugged as she asked him why he lived out in the forest. “Generally, I'm a satyr, a being of the forest. Secondly, I find the quiet and peace much better than living in the city. Third, I'm not very good with people in numbers. If I can get a few alone, I'm fine, but more than that and something bad usually happens.” Mathideton smiled at her.

He watched her turn around and speak. He chuckled as they walked. “We're about there now, actually.” He pointed to a large rock, covered in vines. Mathideton walked up to the mossy rock and parted the vines wide enough to allow them entrance to the cave. It was well-insulated, halfway underground, and it was empty. There was a small climb down, but the ceiling could serve as a skylight and chimney. They would need something to vent the smoke out of the cave.

Mathideton collected bits of dry wood that were left here by the last visitor and piled them up, preparing them for her to light. He carried no flint or steel, no fire magic, nothing to make a fire. Generally his fur kept him warm.

The bard lifted the pipes and played a similar tune softly. The cave thrummed with the sounds, giving them an echoing, hypnotic feel. He watched the woman with steady eyes and played. She looked awfully tired. Perhaps he could help it along. After all, a priestess wouldn't catch much time for sleep, would she?

Rivka couldn’t help but wonder why types of bad things happened. She found herself with an image of pitchfork-in-hand-villagers chasing down the satyr. She held back a giggle as she walked and was grateful that the cave came into view and she didn’t have to think about the scene anymore.

The cave looked roomy enough and she manoeuvred herself inside and found a place to sit where Mathid had placed the twigs and sticks. She picked up one and opened the door to her lantern. Lighting the stick she tossed it onto the rest of the pile and waited for it to ignite before she blew out her own lantern.

Rivka sat facing the fire and watching the flames dance in front of her face. The way they danced lulled her and made her relax. Mathid’s song seemed to be making her feel tired as well, but she knew that something might happen if she fell asleep just now. But she was so tired, her mind felt muddled.

”Mathid...” It was all she was able to get out before her head slumped down and she drifted to sleep.

As she slept her form shimmer and changed from that of a priestess to one of a silver elf. Her body became slimmer and her ears pointed, even her height dropped 2 inches. Her skin shimmered and became a tinted blue color, and her hair darkened to black. Unable to hold her magic alter self spell while she slept her real form became apparent.

The satyr played continually, song growing deeper and more dreamlike as she sat down, looking into the fire. She looked like something was troubling her when she spoke his name, but his song put her to sleep. Mathideton smiled as she nodded off, head drooping. He slowed his song to a stop, holding a note until it died away, carried off in the cave.

Mathideton frowned as her form shimmered somewhat. She seemed to grow more defined, more slender. An eyebrow raised, he watched her spell fade. Her ears grew to a point and hair turned black. After her skin turned color, Mathideton chuckled to himself. He knew something was off.

So she wasn't a human priestess. Not even a human. The moon elf sat there, asleep. Mathideton shrugged and sat down opposite her, fire between them. Faint smoke drifted to the ceiling, pooling out, only to be sucked up by the wind of the outside. The satyr reached into his pockets and withdrew a wooden carving.

He took off his spear and propped the butt end against the wall, holding it steady while he whittled away at the wood. Once in a while, he looked up at the woman. More than anything, he was amused by the woman and her disguises. She obviously had something to hide, that explained the priestess and the behaviour. Maybe even the last word she spoke before falling asleep.

Mathideton smiled to himself as he carved away. He could wait.

Erin calmly walked thought the forest, her phase was slow and her eyes was nearly closed. She was not tired or anything, she was just thinking. Her dress and hair was floating around her as from an invisible wind, like always. When one was so close to the element of air it was very common. Her mere presence was enough to affect the movement of the wind. She had been walking for a long time now, but she was not tired of walking yet. She opened her eyes and looked around the forest for a moment. She did not know why but the air was....unsure of something? Why was that? She shook her head since she had never been very good to read the wind.

She suddenly stopped when she heard soft tunes from somewhere in the forest, weak but they where there alright. She listened for a moment, yes it was a pipe of some sort. She turned her face towards the sound, it came from deeper into the forest. But it was not that far away. She hesitated for a moment, but she was very curios by nature, a great weakness but also a great strength to. She smiled to herself and then she calmly began to walk towards the sound.
She stopped when it stopped and the storm kindler tilted her head to the side, well she knew where the sound came from and she was nearly there now. She had also noticed the smoke and it was a good help to find the way.

The two in the cave would notice that the wind was changing, nothing anyone would think of just like that since the wind is changing all the time. But it still did. the leafs shivered slightly in the wind. Erin was close to the source of the smoke and she soon arrived outside of the cavern. She calmly stopped and tilted her head to the left, then she followed the smoke with her eyes as it moved up into the sky. She shook her head and then she slowly walked into the cave, the only sound she made was the wind created around her as she walked and the sound from her shoes onto the rocky ground.

The sound of someone walking tugged at Mia from her dream state. She was wandering through a field… or was it a town… or by a lake… As she floated towards consciousness the dream slipped from her mind leaving her only with the certainty that she had been dreaming but she knew not of what. For a moment she forgot where she was and so yawned and stretched out her arms. But when she looked around she found that she wasn’t at home… or in a tavern… she was in a cave. Suddenly everything crashed back to her.

Mia stood up, furious eyes caught that of the satyr. She knew that if she had been sleeping her illusion was dropped and she was standing before him as an elf and not a human priestess. Mia, always one quick to blame others for any ill that befell her, pointed an accusing finger at Mathid.

”You tricked me!” In her mind he had tricked her despite whatever the truth might have been. ”You—“ The footsteps that had woken her up came back to her ears. Her features were no longer furious and her eyes dropped from anger to wariness. ”Do you hear that?”