Three is a Crowd

Micah takes a moment to enjoy her kiss, pleasantly surprised that she did so. He almost wishes Eiris would get involved. He's fairly sure that she sees this the same way he does. He wonders where that elf got to and hopes he doesn't come back at a really inopportune moment. Micah sighs and goes to join Eiris. "How are we gonna explain this?"

Malachite has only managed to catch a rabbit and is starting to get the impression that will be all he can catch with the light quickly receding. He looks off at the setting sun and decides to cut his losses and return to camp. He doesn't have a hard time finding it again and points himself in the direction of it.

Eiris looks up as Micah from over the fire, and shrugs. "I'll think of something. She's crazy, maybe I'll just tell him that she's crazy. It'd be the truth, wouldn't it?" She murmurs at the fire, stirring it with a stick, her eyes suddenly distant and wide. The light reflects in her eyes as clearly as a mirror, and she doesn't move at all, absorbed by something far distant, either in her mind or her memory, but she doesn't hear Malachite's return as he moves back into the confines of the camp.

Astrior's nerves are raw the farther away from camp she gets, and the darker the forest gets. It's not silent, but it's certainly missing some of the sounds of night that one would expect to hear in a forest, especially if one is accustomed to hearing certain sounds every night for several years. Astrior picks at the straps of her bracers, looking around in the near-total-darkness, frowning as she removes her bracers completely and nothing happens. Sunset must not have happened outside the forest yet. But the thick quiet of the wood makes her edgy while she waits.

Micah makes an unsure face. "Crazy isn't really a good explanation." He waits for a response and notices she is now elsewhere. He can't help but wonder where she went all of a sudden and what brought that on. He sighs and glances into the fire. He can't hear Malachite returning, too focused on worrying about Astrior.

Malachite is very aware of the lack of sound in these woods as well. He's a little put off by it, but it's not his first night in them either, so he doesn't mind as much as Astrior does. He sees Micah and Eiris seated by the fire and glances around for the other girl. He doesn't see her anywhere, which seems odd, but perhaps she's just gone off to pee. He holds up the rabbit. "There wasn't much to be had out there."

Eiris doesn't react for a few moments, glancing up with delay after several seconds of silence and stillness. When she tears her eyes away from the fire, it's sudden, and she looks up at him, blinking for a moment to readjust her vision. "Oh... that's alright, thanks for trying." She nods to Micah, indicating that he can give it to him for dressing. "I didn't expect that you'd find much in these woods... something about them." She glances around and then pats the ground beside her. "Take off your boots and stay a while." She smiles up at him, as charming as can be. It's only an expression, of course - she has her boots on, and she wouldn't expect him to remove his foot coverings in unknown pastures. Micah is the odd man out with feet bare, though his thick feetleathers are hardy enough to be shoes unto themselves.

Astrior fumbles around and finds a stick large enough to put in her mouth to chew on, hoping not to chew through it when she transforms. Hopefully that will give her a way to keep quiet, so as not to alert the entire forest to her presence. Surely as time unfolds, the sun sets, and with it goes the silence of the forest, as Astrior cries out. Quiet as she tries to be, the pain is excruciating, and powerful jaws completely snap the stick in her mouth into thirds as though it were a twig.

Malachite and Micah both are wondering what Eiris was pondering that took all her attention, but neither asks. Malachite hands the rabbit over to Micah, who accepts it and starts to work cleaning it. Malachite smiles at Eiris' expression and takes a seat at the fire. The mention of boots has caused him to realize Micah has none. He points in Micah's direction. "Did he lose his boots? Or is that intentional?"

Micah just smiles, hearing the question but not answering. He's used to being asked that, but his thoughts are elsewhere and he counts on Eiris to answer. Before she can, the forest is suddenly filled with sound. Malachite is on his feet in the blink of an eye and reaches for an arrow almost as quickly. His eyes might as well be burning through the woods for the source of the sound.

Micah doesn't react as quickly, being human, and he looks up in time to see Malachite at the ready. He swallows hard, not sure what to do now. "Uh..what was tha-?" He's shushed by Malachite holding his hand up in a 'shut up' motion. Malachite wants to hear what's out there, not what's in their camp.

Eiris had opened her mouth to answer Malachite's question about Micah's feet, but what comes out instead is a sound that can only be classified as the bastard child of a squeak and a groan, ending in an upward inflection as though in question form. Her quick eyes follow Malachite up, and she knows that her own reflexes match his, but she doesn't attempt to pull him back down. However, she does grab the other end of the arrow in his hand, preventing him from notching it. She looks up at him meaningfully, without rising from the ground herself.

"I knew the risk of making camp in these woods before I stopped us in them. Don't be so wary - whatever's in these woods is likely older than even I, and cares for us not at all, or will come to us, we shouldn't wander from the fire to find trouble ourselves." She speaks quietly, looking from one man to the other as she pulls gently on the arrow, gently urging Malachite to sit again.

Astrior pants with the exhaustion that the pain brings, her eyes suddenly accustomed to the wood's darkness. She sees all, hears all, and can smell where the campfire's smoke mists up through the branches. She's not far enough away, she realizes, for them not to have heard her... but she's not close enough to keep an eye on them. Her mind is fuzzy for a few moments, but she shakes it off, thinking. She can't get too close to the camp... she'll have to prowl around it. Far enough away to keep shy of where the half-elf's arrows might find her. She realizes that she wouldn't have guessed that on her own... but now she can smell her three companions, and the stranger's scent is easily a mix of the two, human and elf.

Crouching low to the ground, she listens hard for other sounds of the forest, and sniffs for other scents, but the whole wood smells of an ancient fog, as though its cloaked itself in magic to ward off exactly the kind of inquiries that she makes now. What she's certain of, however, is that the forest is NOT as still as it seems... there's a rumbling within the ground that she can sense but not identify, and she doubts very much if even Eiris can sense it.

With no other choice, Malachite listens to Eiris but frowns in response. "What if what is out there comes closer? It does not sound like it would like to be friends." In spite of his words, he lowers his bow slowly. "I will not go to it, but it if it comes to us, I will take care of it." He clearly doesn't want Eiris' opinion on the subject. He places his arrow back in the quiver, but barely relaxes, still standing with bow in hand.

Micah watches, terrified of what this elf could do. He hopes Eiris will be able to get him to relax a little. Right now it looks as if Malachite would hear it if a moth farted and would shoot the poor thing over it. Trying not to show how worried he is, Micah looks down at his work again.

Eiris nods slowly, patting the ground beside her again and looking over to see how Micah is coming along with that rabbit. "Well, we'll see. I kind of doubt that anything out there is going to come to bother us, so long as we keep our fire under control and don't make a lot of noise and bother the whole forest." She crosses her legs under her and pulls her hair back behind her ears, beads and all, so that she can feed the fire a little bit. "If you get cold let me know, I scavaged some dry wood while you were out, so we can keep the fire going through the night." She does her best to put him at ease with her own nonchalance, looking up at him. It's really not hard to look at him, especially right now - the way his jaw is set and his eyebrows are furrowed only serves to make him look more masculine, acutely detailing the difference between elf and man. His features are just so... attractive. Micah has a ruggedness about him, but he's so graceless and puppy-like that it's a completely different thing. She can see why Astrior might be attracted to him, though. But for herself... well, she wouldn't complain if Malachite joined their party indefinitely.

Astrior slinks through the trees, keeping tabs on the rumble in the ground, and also listening to Eiris as she draws nearer to the camp. She can smell the tenseness on the men, and the fear that drops off of Micah is like a string, pulling her in - she wants to check on him so badly. Its for his sake that she prowls the trees, and she feels justified in doing so now, now that she can sense this unrest in the earth.

Malachite isn't inclined to relax much. He likes this hybrid elf, she's interesting, but he's not sure if he trusts her enough to just calm down upon hearing her word. He decides to chance it and listen to her. His face relaxes and he takes his seat again. He sets his bow down beside him and looks Eiris right in her bright blue eyes. "Thank you, that's very hospitable of you." He offers her a charming smile, completely devoid of the boyish-ness that Micah exudes.

Micah watches the elves flirt as he starts cooking the rabbit. He wishes he knew where Astrior was, but he knows that if he knew, Malachite would know as well. And that wouldn't be good for anyone. Still, he wishes she were there. He's starting to feel like the odd man out.

Eiris feels a thrilled little chill go up her spine as he looks directly into her eyes. Not too many months ago, she probably would have wrecked her whole chance with the man, by simple virtue of being drunk off her ass, nearly all the time. She probably would have already propositioned him, and been shot down... at least, he doesn't seem like the womanizing type, but looks can be deceiving, as she well knows. She lowers her gaze demurely for a moment, then looks up at him again, smiling. "Well, we don't have much to offer you by way of hospitality, but what we have we'll share." She wants to probe him for details regarding his two sides, but now isn't the time for that. Though she does need to know...

She leans forward, resting her elbow on her knee and propping her chin up. "So, where do you hail from? You don't strike me as being too close to home, but I'm having a hard time placing you from your accent and your clothing. Are you just wandering, like us, or do you have a homestead hammered down?"

Astrior keeps a safe distance from the camp, and listens quietly - one ear towards the fire, and the other out towards the darkness, at all times. She's here to protect, not to lounge and let them fall prey to something else that might be sneaking around the woods. But so far, the only troubling sensation she's come across is the rumbling, and that hasn't changed since she has, neither to grow fainter or worse.

Malachite smiles at her being so cute and coy. "I appreciate your kindness, miss." When she mentions his clothes he looks down at them. He wears mostly browns and earthy greens, all the better for blending into the woods. His brown cloak covers most of what he wears, but beneath it is a fairly ordinary button-up shirt and pair of pants that are tucked into his boots. He smiles, "Well, these clothes have not always been mine...what I left home with has long since worn out. The only original thing is this." He holds his wrist up, letting his shirt sleeve fall back a bit from a leather band tied there. "This was given to me by my father when I was young. I've never removed it." He puts his hand down again. "I am from Candlewood. I have been wandering for quite some time, but if I ever stopped at home, I would have a place to rest."

Micah listens to Malachite, but still feels like he shouldn't really be. They seem to be having a private conversation, but what else can he do? He'll just be quiet for now and stay out of the way.

Eiris listens, nodding, and eyeballing his outfit. He seems honest, there's nothing to say that this isn't the truth, but the way he worded his first statement leaves her questioning the rest of it. '..these clothes have not always been mine.' She wonders whether that means he pilfered them from someone else, or whether his grammar is a product of his upbringing or travels. She smiles, turning the meat over the fire for Micah. "Tell me about your home, Candlewood? What family do you have there?" She wishes that she had drink to offer him besides water, but since that's all they have, she offers the canteen nonetheless.

Astrior frowns, in her own way, and turns her head to listen to the wood. There's nothing that she hears that alerts her... but maybe that's what troubles her. The sounds never change. It's as if only certain sounds leech through the fog that covers her senses of these woods. She senses, unsure of her reasoning, that there's more lurking in these woods than meets her eyes. And what fools her, in this form... she's certain will pass by the senses of the others. Her ears go down, and she rises silently, stalking again through the roots and underbrush of the wood, looking for some sign of other life. Her stomach growls, and she realizes how hungry she is. She can smell their rabbit cooking, and laments the fact that she snuck off before eating. So for now, the order of business is to protect, and also to hunt. But she finds no game trails in these woods, and so she makes her own trail around the camp with little to show for it.

In the light of the fire, Malachite's green eyes sparkle. He smiles at Eiris' curiosity and notices how lovely her face looks in the firelight, The dim light dances in her eyes and makes the hues of her face all warm. He accepts the canteen, taking a swig of it. "Thank you. At home I have two sisters and our father and mother. I am the middle child." He looks off into the fire as he remembers his homeland. "Candlewood is lovely...The woods are not as old as here, but the trees are tall and sturdy. The elves there break into kithbands, kinbands and kindreds throughout the woods. Are your people like this?" He looks at Eiris expectantly, wondering what her kind does. He knows mostly his own kind and humans. Wood elves aren't known for being social with other races, even the other elves.

Micah listens as Malachite explains his people. He had no idea how the elves worked. He mostly kept to human cities, though he has been in a few of other races. Unfortunately, Micah's only peek into the world of wood elves were the crazy people who kidnapped him and Astrior. Thinking of her makes him wonder again how she is. He pokes at the rabbit with a stick to see if it's done.

Eiris smiles to herself as he details his immediate family... and no extensions. So he's not attached to anyone else... which, she supposes, is to be expected, at his age. She places him at approximately half her own, which would put them at nearly the same maturity, since he's a half-breed. Humans are wont to mature more quickly than elves, which makes sense, given how short their lifespan is. Half-breeds are more prone to their human side, in that regard. She's certain that if she had sobered up earlier, she would be ahead of most her age, after all of the life experience she's had. But she can only judge his age off of his dress, speech, and the human in his features. It's difficult to tell an elf's age, because after a certain point, they seem to become ageless.

"Well, the Sun Elves are kind of clan-ish, and they break up into similar units. White Elves are more caste-ish, depending on the status of your family within the court, or where your tree is, who your mother is, or whether you associate with outsiders... it's bullshit, so far as I'm concerned." She smiles. "But I wasn't raised with any of that. My dad was a White who left all of that to chase down his Sun honey, and they took up residence on the coastline, so I was raised by sailors." She laughs. "My parents are so proud."

No luck finding game trails, Astrior lays down again to listen, sighing to herself and glancing around now and again, hoping to catch sight of something that she's not hearing. The rumble in the ground keeps her on edge, but she can't see anything that would serve her for food. What she really wishes is that she could see Micah, to be sure that he's not ill at ease around the elves, but she doesn't dare get close enough to peer in at him.

Malachite finds himself very interested in Eiris. He had thought she looked like she should be a sailor, but he knows how rarely women are actually on ships. Sailors are one of the most superstitious of people. He listens as she explains how the other elves divide themselves which fascinates him. He had no idea that other elves were so different. Especially the white ones, it seems.

He finds her sense of humor amusing and laughs with her. "I have to ask...from what you're telling me of the White Elves, I wouldn't blame your father for leaving them, but why did he? Did your mother just show up in the White Elves' land?" Malachite is genuinely curious about this and the curiousity shows on his face. His brows scrunch in and his lips pull up on one side but slightly down on the other. It's a rather amusingly cute look.

Micah scratches his head aimlessly and decides to wander off for a moment. If anyone cares, he'll just say he has to pee. He hopes Astrior will notice him and he can see her for a moment. He feels lonely away from her, especially with the pair of elves talking together. As he leaves the campground, he looks around for Astrior.

Eiris laughs, clapping her hands. He really is so handsome, and that face is so cute that it really isn't fair. "Oh, why does any man uproot himself and run off into lands unknown for adventures untold? To get the girl!" She giggles, waving that notion off. "Honestly, all I know is that her clan passed through his family's land, and when they left, so did he. They've never discussed their courtship with me... but to be fair, I've never asked. I guess I'll want to ask them about it when I see them." She smiles and tucks her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "That's where we're headed, is to my folks' place. If we make it alive." Her last statement is macabre, but she says it without any misgivings. It's simply a matter of fact.

She notices when Micah gets up, but doesn't make any mention of it. So long as he doesn't broadcast what he's doing, she's certain they won't have trouble. He probably has an excuse if Malachite questions him... which is just as well. "I invited you along for the evening, because the entire journey will probably be too dangerous. We're going over the mountains - if you've spent any time in the area, then you'll have heard the stories and know how dangerous that is. If you're the adventurous type, then of course you're welcome to join us... at least, I wouldn't mind..." She smiles. "I can't vouch for the others."

Astrior hears one of them separate from the group and move out toward trees, and she figures it MUST be Micah, since the other two are engaged in conversation and neither of them has asked to be excused. Her ears perk up, and it takes everything in her not to wag her tail madly like a stupid lap dog. She wishes that he'd bring her a treat. But she doesn't count on it - she'll need to hunt, that's the nature of what she is. She can't rely on hand-outs... not even from Micah. When he appears where she can see him, far enough away that the others won't be able to, she prances up to him, smiling in her own way.

Malachite glances at Micah as he leaves, but says nothing about it. He laughs slightly, he would understand a guy leaving his home and everything if the girl were pretty and interesting enough. He has a fleeting thought that he would have done that for Eiris and that flusters him. He chuckles nervously for a moment then pulls himself together. He thinks it would be fun to see where Eiris came from and to meet her family but he's taken aback by her grim assessment.

He considers her invitation, realizing for anyone else he would be likely to laugh and send them on their way. But there's something special about this girl and he's in no hurry to leave her. He decides to throw caution to the wind for the sake of the lady. With a charming smile and a slight bow, he says, "I couldn't let so lovely a lady walk willingly into harm's way without vowing to protect her." He takes her hand and gives it a kiss.

Micah grins when he sees Astrior and pets her behind the ears. "Hey. Are you doing alright? Are the woods as bad as you thought? I haven't really noticed anything weird...except for elves flirting. That's pretty weird." He shrugs, knowing she can't really respond to him. It makes him feel better just to talk to her whether or not she can talk to him.

Eiris' eyebrows raise, and she turns pink with glee as he kisses her hand. She brings a hand up to place on top of his head. "I appreciate the sentiment... and your job will be easy." She smiles, brushing her fingers through his hair and then taking her hand back. "I've gotten myself out of some pretty rough scrapes before - I can take care of myself. Of the three of us... you'll probably be looking after the others more than me. That's, if they'll let you. They're pretty stubborn, themselves." She keeps her thoughts on their methods of survival to herself - truthfully, they're all probably as able to take care of themselves as each other... it's keeping track of each other that's the problem. They've all been lone wolves too long. Ha ha, no pun intended. But their little pack has suffered in time of need when each has been unwilling to ask for- or accept- help.

She turns her mind to a lighter line of thought, intent on not squandering this rare opportunity to have a few moments between them without the others evesdropping. She leans forward and takes both of his hands in hers, flipping them palms up, and studying them intently for several seconds. They're rough, but not as rough as Micah's, and she doesn't see any scars. But she knows from experience that it's impossible to tell a person's livlihood solely from their outward appeariences - those can be changed. She herself has smooth hands, as she pampers them reguarly between rough patches. But the lines are deep, those will never soften. So it's the lines she looks at. His lines tell her nothing out of the ordinary with regard to his occupation, except that he's no stranger to work. But his hands are difficult to read - a half-breed's usually are, as no two races hold the same lines, and he has the mixed lines of elves and men. So she'll need to consult her cards, or question him, to learn any more. "Mmm... you're a mystery, indeed."

Astrior's tail wags when Micah scratches her behind the ears, and she cocks her head so that she can move his fingers to where it will feel the best. To his questions, she can give little in the way of answer, but she puts her ears back when he asks about the forest. There's no way to tell him about the rumbling in the ground, and even if she could, she wouldn't be able to tell him any more than that. Breaking away from his petting, she brushes up against his leg and sits on his feet, looking up at him plaintively. She doesn't dare whine or make any other sound, since she can't be sure how closely the elves are listening to them now. She just sighs and looks up at him, hungry and disgruntled.

Malachite is pleased with Eiris' reaction to his kiss. She looks cute when she's blushing and the fact that she is can only mean she feels something for him as he does for her. He accepts the small victory and thinks about the task ahead. He doesn't know this group much but from the looks of them, he would think they all would be capable of taking care of themselves. He has noticed the stubborn nature of the redhead and wonders if any trouble in the group would stem from that. He wonders quite a lot about Micah, since all he knows about that one is that he wears no shoes and can't seem to ride a horse. He thinks of asking about him, but would much rather just talk with Eiris without bringing up the others.

As she studies his hands he watches her expression. She doesn't seem to be learning much from them. He wonders what she was hoping to find there. "I'm a mystery? What were you hoping to learn from my hands? Can you tell fortunes?" He looks intrigued, wanting to know more. "What can you tell me?"

Micah pets her while she lets him, getting in spots that make her happy. His thoughts are busy but he notices when her ears go back at mention of the forest. He wonders what she knows that he clearly does not but there's not way to find that out right now. He looks down at her furtive gaze and wonders if something's wrong. "Are you ok? Do you need something?" He's fairly sure he will be able to tell if she is not ok and waits for her to let him know somehow.

Eiris smiles and looks up at him, giving him his hands back. "I've been known to do a little soul searching from time to time... other people's souls, not mine." She chuckles at her own lame joke. "From your hands, I can't tell much of anything... you're a mixture, you see." She takes one of his hands, and holds her own beside it. The lines are similar in places, but not identical. She wishes she had Micah here to demonstrate as well, but one is better than none... and the longer he's out of their hair, the better. "Every race has their own set of lines... and their own methods to meaning on each. I can't read yours well, because... well, you take good care of your hands, and also because you're a half-breed. Which works out in your advantage - half-breeds are statistically more inclined to pursue two destinies, or two paths, so they're less easy to predict, and you can be sure that you'll never have a boring life." She smiles. "I'm only so skilled at fortune telling, but usually I can at least pull out a person's lifeline and fortunes from their hands. But since that won't do for you... I have cards." She smiles. "If you're interested."

Astrior nuzzles his legs and sighs, wishing there were some way to indicate to him her hunger. She licks her chops, hoping that indicates her concern... but what's he going to do? He can't very well go back to camp and then return to the dark of the woods, they'll get suspicious. She'll just have to hunt. She sighs and looks off into the woods, then back up at him, moving her head under his hands so that she can at least feel close to him, enjoying his petting. She readjusts herself so that she's not sitting on his feet, and then she circles around him, looking up plaintively for a moment before nudging him back towards camp. She needs to hunt, and he needs to get back to the others.

Malachite smiles at Eiris' lame joke, but doesn't laugh. He's just amused that it appeared to amuse her, mostly. He looks at his own palm and then at Eiris' palm. He would have never noticed there was a difference there if she hadn't pointed it out. "I didn't know every race had different hands..." He looks from hers to his again. "Interesting. So, I have two paths? How do you follow two paths, Eiris?" He's curious about this, he never knew much about these kind of things and it seems interesting. "You have cards? Yes, please try to read them."

Micah looks concerned. "Oh, you couldn't find anything to eat here, could you?" He pats her head. "I'm sorry, Astrior. Malachite couldn't find much either. These woods are..weird. But I'm sure you know that. You can tell more about it right now than I can." He frowns, wishing he could at least stay with her. "Ok...I'll get back to the others. I'm sure they haven't noticed I was gone."

Eiris smiles, and gives him back his hand again, reaching around into her pack to locate her cards. "Well, you can pursue one path to purpose, or you can try and pursue two to folly. It rarely works out. But its in certain people's natures to do certain things, and follow certain paths. Elves are wont to do things one way, and Man is wont to do things another way, you see." She locates her cards and turns back to him, folding her legs under her and setting out a scarf to lay her cards on. "Most people will just follow the path they think they choose, unwitting to whether it's their destiny or not. So really, they have only one path, their path. Once you've been told what your path of destiny is, you have two paths to choose from - the one chosen for you, or the one you choose yourself. You are a special case, because at certain points in your life, you will be pulled in one direction or another - the two paths you might have walked without knowing the difference. But once you know what they are, you have the freedom to choose one of them or a third path, of your own making. So, think about it, and decide whether you really want to know, or whether you want to go on making your own choices... in end towards your own goal, or a larger goal unbeknownst to you." She shuffles the cards in her lap without touching them to the scarf, waiting for him to think it over.

Astrior sighs as she watches Micah. His news isn't good... she's hungry, and she can't afford to be. Not in these woods, not in this form. But at least... at least if worst should come to worst, he'll be the safest of any of them. She sighs and gently takes him by the wrist with her teeth, stopping him from leaving. She looks up at him meaningfully, and then lets him go, moving as if to walk, and then looking up at him to see that he'll follow. If she's not going to be able to hunt, then there's no point in chasing him back to the others. Eiris and her new friend be damned, it's Micah she wants for company. She pads off a little ways and looks over at her shoulder at Micah, waiting for him to follow her.

Malachite's brows furrow as he considers this. Eiris gave him a lot to think about, mostly things he had never thought of before. He never considered if what he did was fate or simply what he did. He finds himself wondering if he has been acting according to fate all this time and did not even know it. In spite of her warning, he finds he is quite curious about all of this. He nods. "I would like to see what you read. How does this work?" He looks at her cards, not sure what to expect them to look like.

Micah stops as she gently takes his wrist and turns to face her. He watches her look and walk away from the camp. He tilts his head slightly to the side like a confused puppy. "You want me to come along? Don't you think the elves will notice?" She can't answer of course, and doesn't seem to care either way, so Micah shrugs off the puppy look and follows her.

Eiris smiles, and begins shuffling the cards in her own fashion - a cut, a bind. A cut, a bind. Two cuts. A stack. "I want to look into your life, in a way you cannot present your story to me yourself... because your paradigm will color anything you say in the light you want it to come across in. So this time... I will ask the question. And I will tell you about yourself... as I am told." She smiles, closing her eyes. "I won't ask about your fate-path... that, only you can ask. But I will take a glimpse into your past, your present, and your near-future." She draws one card at a time, placing some face-up on the cloth between them, and some face down, but she looks at none of them. When ten cards are drawn, she opens her eyes and sets the other cards aside, looking down at the cards in front of her. There's some pattern to it, but only to one who knows how to look at it. "Cover. Skill. Your relationship to the present." She smiles up at him. "You've been traveling like this for some time, so you're not a stranger to the wilderness. But we knew that." She turns the card beside it over. "Cross. Happiness. The querrent's favor. There's a new relationship on the horizon for you... so long as you can keep your common sense about you." Her hand move diagonally, and she touches another card. "Beneith. Success... your message to yourself, subconciously. Your plans and aspirations can now be fulfilled... if you will strengthen your resolve and take a hard look at where your end-goals actually lay." She glances up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Having a crisis of self, are we? You can't complete a goal you don't have in mind. You might need to do a little soul-searching of your own."

Turning her attention back to the cards, she turns over another. "Crown. Sorrow... the past. Swords... you suffered a time of great tribulation. This colors your current path. The bitter end of a relationship..." She frowns at this card - it's not straight, but slightly crooked. "...which did not end the way you may have realized." That card troubles her, but she moves on. "Behind. Rejection. Your preoccupation of the subconcious which filters into your waking life. Dissappointment with close family members... or those not so close." She stops here and looks back at the other card, working something out in her mind. Her eyes travel to the next card, which she does not express, and then moves back to the crooked one. "...Oh." She smiles slightly, shaking her head. "I'm sorry... I asked too generally, and the spectrum was broad. Malachite, were you raised by only one parent, perhaps, or a sibling?"

---

Astrior smiles in her wolfish way when Micah follows her, and she leads him off into the woods, listening carefully to the forest for any sounds that may indicate danger... but the forest continues to be eerily silent to her ears. She finds a clearing of sorts - it's not entirely clear anymore, with heavy moss growth over upturned rocks, and vines hanging down through the openings in the trees, but it suits her purposes. She stops and waits for him here, wagging her tail as she sits, clearing leaves off of the moss as it sweeps back and forth behind her. There's something about this clearing that calls to her, as if it strengthens the already-firm grasp she has on her mental faculties in this form. No stranger than the rest of the woods, to be sure. But just as dark, and just as quiet.

The firelight flickes in Malachite's green eyes as he watches Eiris cut the deck. He is interested in knowing what she will be able to see with the cards, although he is also a bit nervous about it. He can't seem to figure where that feeling is coming from, maybe having someone staring into your soul is just an unnerving thing to do..especially one you admire. He shakes these thoughts off and focuses on the cards, watching as she blindly places them down. He wonders how she knows where they ought to go but figures she probably knows her deck as well as he knows his bow. He studies the cards before she speaks of them, though he doesn't understand what he sees. With her explanation, he begins to understand. Cover and skill rule his life at the present and he is happy with that. When she mentions a new relationship, his face flushes and he looks away from the fire, hoping to hide the red tint from the light. His attention is pulled back by her questioning look. A crisis of self? He's not sure if that's how he'd put it, but maybe there's something to that. For the moment, he disposes of the thought so that he may follow her explanations further.

His eyes grow wide as she speaks of sorrow in the past and the ending of a relationship. She knows more than he expected, which has him taken aback. Wait, what was that about the relationship? "Which did not end the way you may have realized." What does that mean? He could not think of a single time he was unaware of the ending of a relationship. Granted, he didn't have many...family, mostly. He furrows his brow subconsiously as he troubles over that. The rest of what she is saying comes through as if through a smokescreen, pushed aside from his troubled mind. Her final question draws him out from his mind. "Pardon? Oh...I was raised by my mother mostly..." Hearing it out loud makes him realize how vague and stupid it sounded, but it's out there now. "Um, my father died when I was young. My sister was still a baby." That was better, and much less idiotic.


---


Micah grins as Astrior bounds off, he can't help but think of her as a big puppy this way and that amuses him. He hurries along after her, glancing around at the woods only slightly as he runs. He doesn't feel anything strange about the woods, just unfamiliar to him and that doesn't seem to bother him at all. He makes himself comfortable next to Astrior, sitting on some moss. He always wishes he could understand Astrior when she's a wolf, but knows there's nothing to be done about that. At the same time, he can never be quiet, even when there is no one to answer, he has to talk. "Hey, this is pretty nice..."