[Oh, he would comment on that. If Nepione had voiced such, of course. However, her thoughts on the matter are very much unvoiced, so he can only focus on what is said. Quite silkily, at that- with a joke.]
Oh? Now you tell me that it is unneeded? Well, we may as well turn back. Perhaps I can get some use out of today-
[A quick smile betrays him, and he shakes his head while walking ahead.]
It is not that far now. Just past this thicket, and past the treeline.
[Some walking then follows. A little trudging through some uneven ground, and finally, what seems like a full twenty minutes later...
...They emerge. Directly in front of them is a cliff's edge, with a drop of what could very well be hundreds of feet. Although the drop appears sheer, there are numerous trees, all ancient, that seem to be growing on the near-vertical edge. They are twisted and contorted, each straining toward the sun- resembling climbing plants far more than arbor. They are so high, that there is an indication of cloud below them. Beyond the cliff's edge stands one more tree. A willow, it would seem. It fits the criteria of such easily- it has long fronds that hang from the branches. The trunk is a mass of curling, entwined wood. Yet the thing appears far too tall to be plausible - defiantly breaching the clouds below them itself, extending far beyond even this vantage point.
Should the cleric be confused as to the reason they are here (or even marginally suspicious that this seemed a prime spot for shoving) enough to look to the half-elf, she would see him moving to sit, crosslegged, upon the ground and immediately start rummaging through his bags.]
...The point of coming here? Well. Context, chiefly. That tree there- all of them, actually. They're thousands upon thousands of years old. They've seen all manner of things. The Time of Troubles. The trial of Cyric the Mad, The Era of Upheaval. The murder of Mystra and the Spellplague. The destruction of Neverwinter. Sundabar being conquered. The Bhaalspawn crisis. Gods, the list goes on and on. And yet, for all of these things, nothing has changed with them.
...And they'll continue on- long after you and I are dead. And chances are, long after everyone we know is dead. Even the elves. Everyone is nothing compared to this. So...
[He shrugs, lightly, as he resumes rummaging.]
Seeing something like this, are the thoughts in your mind really that insurmountable?
[Success! A few bottles of Ithbank are pulled from the bag. One is uncorked, and yes. he takes a swig. His face twists in something alike displeasure.]
...Oh. And in case this isn't enough, I brought the booze anyway.
does so... haha I'd apologize again if it wasn't needed /o\
Oh? Now you tell me that it is unneeded? Well, we may as well turn back. Perhaps I can get some use out of today-
[A quick smile betrays him, and he shakes his head while walking ahead.]
It is not that far now. Just past this thicket, and past the treeline.
[Some walking then follows. A little trudging through some uneven ground, and finally, what seems like a full twenty minutes later...
...They emerge. Directly in front of them is a cliff's edge, with a drop of what could very well be hundreds of feet. Although the drop appears sheer, there are numerous trees, all ancient, that seem to be growing on the near-vertical edge. They are twisted and contorted, each straining toward the sun- resembling climbing plants far more than arbor. They are so high, that there is an indication of cloud below them. Beyond the cliff's edge stands one more tree. A willow, it would seem. It fits the criteria of such easily- it has long fronds that hang from the branches. The trunk is a mass of curling, entwined wood. Yet the thing appears far too tall to be plausible - defiantly breaching the clouds below them itself, extending far beyond even this vantage point.
Should the cleric be confused as to the reason they are here (or even marginally suspicious that this seemed a prime spot for shoving) enough to look to the half-elf, she would see him moving to sit, crosslegged, upon the ground and immediately start rummaging through his bags.]
...The point of coming here? Well. Context, chiefly. That tree there- all of them, actually. They're thousands upon thousands of years old. They've seen all manner of things. The Time of Troubles. The trial of Cyric the Mad, The Era of Upheaval. The murder of Mystra and the Spellplague. The destruction of Neverwinter. Sundabar being conquered. The Bhaalspawn crisis. Gods, the list goes on and on. And yet, for all of these things, nothing has changed with them.
...And they'll continue on- long after you and I are dead. And chances are, long after everyone we know is dead. Even the elves. Everyone is nothing compared to this. So...
[He shrugs, lightly, as he resumes rummaging.]
Seeing something like this, are the thoughts in your mind really that insurmountable?
[Success! A few bottles of Ithbank are pulled from the bag. One is uncorked, and yes. he takes a swig. His face twists in something alike displeasure.]
...Oh. And in case this isn't enough, I brought the booze anyway.