Kyvir, you climb up and away, valiantly struggling to the finish --- in this case, the warm sky above you and ground below. You roll Milla out onto the ground, where she lies for a few seconds, eyes open, breathing heavily. She coughs once, twice, then spits out a stream of dirty water --- vibrantly all the greens and blues of the murkiness below.
Then, she reaches up and draws you into a hug. "Thank you," she whispers, slightly crying. "Thank you."
Kravik, Vulcan, Aydlott ---- directions to Heart-break Farm are not hard to find, as it appears that this aging father is a known figure around town. Departing town, Vulcan and Aydlott mounted while Kravik strolls beside them, you find yourselves upon a long road, going straight off into the horizon. Towering pines stand on your right, while to your right-hand side, beautiful, blossoming flowers and plants grow amid the fields and farms.
After a two hours' journey, by which you can barely see the town miles behind you, you arrive ---- a small, wooden plaque engraved with the words "Heart-break Farm" marks the beginning of a winding path that leads up a hill to a small house. Around the house lie all sorts of plants ---- while there are trees growing in parts of this farm, radiant patches of flowers grow as well, along with the traditional farmers' crop --- corn --- growing in large fields on the other side of the hill.
As you approach, a man exits the house, heading towards you. He carries a large, rusted pitchfork and is dressed in rugged, weathered clothes. For an old man, he strikes an impressive figure --- dark-skinned, he bears the heavy muscles which come with hard work and stands at least seven feet tall. When his voice sounds out, it sounds like a rolling earthquake, rumbling across the land --- "Who are you?"
Kyvir slowly shifts in her arms back into his normal form, keeping his arms at his side as he get's a hug... Physical affection is not something he's used to or comfortable with, but he's too polite to push her away.
"It's okay... I didn't do anything anyone else wouldn't have done... I'm just glad you're okay."
Kravik had mostly listened during the journey, letting Aydlott's conversation with Vulcan flow naturally while he took in the landscape. The contrast between the dark pines and the flowering fields spoke to him -- different elements existing side by side, each contributing to the whole. Balance, even in the countryside.
As the farmer approaches with his pitchfork, Kravik takes note of the man's impressive stature. Seven feet is tall by human standards -- exceptionally so -- but Kravik still stands nearly eight inches above him. He's careful not to loom, keeping his posture open and non-threatening. The farmer's defensive stance with the pitchfork suggests he's had trouble recently, and the last thing they need is to appear as more of it.
While Aydlott handles the introductions, Kravik offers a respectful nod, his scarred hands visible and empty at his sides. Ten gold for pest control seemed steep when the waitress mentioned it. Looking at this place now—the careful cultivation, the variety of crops and flowers, the clear pride in the land -- he suspects whatever's plaguing Heart-break Farm is more than ordinary vermin.
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Kyvir slowly shifts in her arms back into his normal form, keeping his arms at his side as he get's a hug... Physical affection is not something he's used to or comfortable with, but he's too polite to push her away.
"It's okay... I didn't do anything anyone else wouldn't have done... I'm just glad you're okay."
I don't have a signature.
Kravik had mostly listened during the journey, letting Aydlott's conversation with Vulcan flow naturally while he took in the landscape. The contrast between the dark pines and the flowering fields spoke to him -- different elements existing side by side, each contributing to the whole. Balance, even in the countryside.
As the farmer approaches with his pitchfork, Kravik takes note of the man's impressive stature. Seven feet is tall by human standards -- exceptionally so -- but Kravik still stands nearly eight inches above him. He's careful not to loom, keeping his posture open and non-threatening. The farmer's defensive stance with the pitchfork suggests he's had trouble recently, and the last thing they need is to appear as more of it.
While Aydlott handles the introductions, Kravik offers a respectful nod, his scarred hands visible and empty at his sides. Ten gold for pest control seemed steep when the waitress mentioned it. Looking at this place now—the careful cultivation, the variety of crops and flowers, the clear pride in the land -- he suspects whatever's plaguing Heart-break Farm is more than ordinary vermin.