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[Random starters are okay, too!]

[Indeed so, the tiefling is perfectly prompt! And fortunately, it seemed like the weather was holding. Ara smiles warmly in greeting- hoisting his pack more comfortably upon his shoulders. He is attired... well, quite normally, actually- his body as ever, wrapped in a thick and vaguely bobbly robe- quarterstaff poking out from behind the pack at either side of him. And indeed, he is likewise wearing quite good, thick-soled boots, capable of traversing all manner of uneven ground for hours without complaint.

....Which should be an indicator as to what they would do. But ah, the question had been asked. And as he turns and looks to the cleric-]

Walking. There's a forest not that far from here. It's a good place to explore. It's calmed my mind many a time. And better yet- there's been no recent bandit activity within it.

[He begins to move. And as he looks over his shoulder at the tiefling, he cannot help but exhale a short huff of private amusement.]

Oh, and if I hear any elf quips, or even a stray comment about forests being predictable, that counts as making fun of me. ...You know I'm a half anyway. It hardly counts.

Wait, that's it?

[...Really?

His grand answer to all of this is just to walk? Which is, what she's certain they do on a regular, daily basis, because how else are they really going to get anywhere. She can't even disguise the confusion in her expression, nor does she actively make the attempt to. But given his choice of dress, it is somewhat evident that whatever she was expecting, a walk was not it.

So much for expecting the unexpected.

Dumbly, she begins to follow him uncertainly, pausing for only a breath or two when he tosses that glance over his shoulder.]

I can admit rather easily that the thought never even crossed my mind. [Which is true. Nepione can, at times, loose some humour, but most of that ends up falling flat. Most of her comedy comes from making herself look a fool, which seems to be particularly more successful.] Don't you think it's a little strange that you look to walking for this kind of thing? You don't get enough of that in our regular routine?

Good. We've both had likely experience of bigots in our time- you, more than most, I imagine. So thank you for that.

[And as for the solution to all of Nepione's problems...
Walking isn't quite it! Said solution is a little grander than just simply walking- but still not quite as grand as the cleric expected, apparently. And he is perfectly happy to tell her as much, turning to walk backward for a few steps, a bright laugh sounding from his lungs.]

Walking isn't quite it. It's more where I'm taking you. I'm sure you're brimming with questions, but hold them. You'll see when we get there. ...I hope.

[If not, this little foray into the wilds certainly would be a waste of time.]

[There's a moment's consideration as she reflects on how he words it. Bigots. Yes, that's certainly a way to put it. She's been called a plethora of names, and though she wants very much better for her people, her feelings on such a thing are... complicated. She looks like a monster, doesn't she? Should be treated like one. Might as well be one until one really knows what she's like.

In an ideal world—]

Oh, I see. Less the walking and more the end destination.

[What kind of place could it be that walking to it would somehow make it all the more welcoming and miraculous? Maybe she hasn't been taking the time necessary to admire the world around her. No. She knows for a fact that she hasn't been. Whatever it is he's got up his sleeve is probably better than anything she would have resorted to.]

I will, to the very best of my ability, try to keep the interrogation to a minimum. It's nice of you to share this with me, whatever it might be. Not... necessarily needed, I'm sure. I like to think we all have places and things we want to hold closely to ourselves. If it's something precious to you, you don't need to share it with me, you know.

[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.

That isn't—

[Oh. He's poking a wee bit of fun at her. Her rising urge to protest dies down, though it doesn't seem to do away with the little flutters that riddle her insides. She's often like that. Worried about saying the wrong thing. Sometimes feeling she must justify or defend the things she says or does when such things are genuinely unnecessary. The amount of time that she spends worrying must be laughable to the objective eye. At least Ara has the kindness not to poke and prod at her overmuch where such things are concerned.

The rest of their journey is mostly quiet on her end until they arrive. At the cliff's edge, she's careful not to get too close, taking the time to simply look. Some would look at the trees, tangled and seemingly misshapen, as something perhaps bizarre and otherworldly, even. She doesn't. To her there's a beauty in it. A very sad kind of beauty, perhaps. She isn't quite sure what she feels. Maybe that sometimes her insides reflect a likeness in that growth. It is around the time that her gaze lingers on the willow that his words catch her attention.

She watches him sit, careful to remain as she is, clawed hands folded together as she listens to what he has to share. Somehow she's not surprised that he has a more profound reason for bringing her here. It's something she can appreciate, though she suspects she would have liked the view just on its own. She would like to think she isn't excessively complicated, though that might not necessarily be true.

Her head tilts and she understands that he is right. Not only that these trees below them have seen far more than she ever has, but also that they'll continue to see things after she is long dearly departed. His question, however, does bring her pause. Are her thoughts insurmountable? They certainly feel it at times. Feeling, however, is not the same thing as the reality of the situation.]

...I think the comparison might be a touch unfair. [She finally responds after having given him what she feels is due consideration and respect, in light of what he means to convey.] I couldn't dare to put myself beside trees that have seen and will continue to see far more than I ever hope to. Perhaps they, their collective, have at times wondered of their adversities. Of their livelihood. I don't think that makes their thoughts, their concerns, any greater or less than mine. Or yours. Or anyone else's.

[After a pause, she wonders how to put it. She's so very not good with her words. She feels foolish even trying to have this conversation.]

Insurmountable? I don't know that I would it like that. I simply have concerns. Just as anyone else does. I don't think the future is very certain at all. Or perhaps, I fear that it isn't.

[That's probably more accurate. It's not that she thinks she can't or won't overcome. It's that she has no idea what to expect. She can't plan for it. She's afraid of that unknown.]

Perhaps they do. Or, perhaps they're far too old for worry. We don't know- but we do know that they continue on regardless.

[He tucks his legs underneath himself then, taking a last swig of the bottle before extending an arm to offer it to her.

Oh, and he cannot help but laugh at the idea of the future- the sound bright. Amused.]

Our future isn't certain. That's for sure. We could very well die in traps tomorrow while poking about a decrepit, abandoned dungeon. Or, the luck we've had with annoying forces far beyond our reckoning will run out and we'll be disintegrated accordingly. Or, who knows? We'll succumb to ceremorphosis and float off.

[A pause. For that thought in particular is harrowing. Even for him.]

It might even be something as unlikely as not bleeding out in some trap somewhere, not dying horribly at the hands of something beyond us, and actually finding a cure for ourselves. But personally, I'm not afraid of the fact it's uncertain. I'd rather have uncertainty than guarantees. Especially when it comes to sprouting tentacles.

[He leans back on his arms then, and observes the sky.]

... For what it's worth, I'm cautiously optimistic. That's why I'm traveling with you, after all.

[There is nothing about the potential list of how things can go wrong that offers her any kind of the solace. On the contrary, hearing it all makes it feel just a little more real. At least if she's kept it in her head, she can use the excuse that she might be overthinking it a little. When things get said, they become more weighted. It isn't something she can just deny or pass off as something else.

For the hint of a moment, her uncertainty spreads across her expression. She'd love to choose how she went, admittedly. She gets the feeling that's a luxury none of them will have. It's a good thing she hasn't been expecting it. Looking only a touch grateful, she accepts the bottle he offers up to her and she sniffs at it uncertainly before she indulges with a fair amount of caution.]

Ceremorphosis is certainly a real concern. [She admits with a grimace.] Whatever would I do if my pretty face became a mess of tentacles. [She says it out of levity only. She doesn't think much of her appearance, but the bar is pretty low when tentacles become involved.] I'd like to make promises. Say that I won't let that happen to any of us, but I know that I can't make a guarantee like that. We haven't turned yet and I guess we have to take that with all of the gratitude that we can muster.

[Looking down to him, she cocks an eyebrow and after a moment's consideration, she moves to sit next to him.] Cautiously optimistic. [Nepione echoes him with thought.] Here I would have thought it's best for us all to travel together. The mantle of what we carry is heavy. It's easier to bear that burden when we're all going in the same direction. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the rest of you. I'm not foolish enough to think otherwise.

[Taking a good swig of the ithbank would likely alleviate the look of uncertainty that crossed her features for that moment. ...With a contortion of the face, more than likely. What could be said? It was cheap. Not good cheap, either. But it is effective. Which was the entire point.]

You'd do exactly as an ugly person would. Latch onto the nearest skull you can find, crack it open, and slurp.

[A wry smile follows, as his gaze moves to the side- to the cliffside. Hardly a helpful answer. Nor one distinctly requested, rhetorical as her question was. Yet it comes from a good place. Perhaps they were distinct opposites in the way of which they processed uncertainty. For Ara appears to be trying to help, even if what he says is quite biting.

But as she moves closer...]

The artifact is protecting us by affording us time. What we do with this gift... well. None can say we are not making steady progress through our options.

[That was what concerned him. The druids of the Emerald Grove being unable to do anything for them. The Githyanki (more violently) in a similar position. Even unconventional options such as a goblin priestess, a hag... led to nothing. Let alone Volo.]

At least our options are not wholly extinguished. Halsin seems somewhat certain Moonrise can offer some insight. So, all we can do is press ahead.

[And at that, he takes the bottle. Giving it another good, long swig. And a grimace.]

Saying that, I'm glad I met you as well. Survival doesn't even come into it for me... I think that without others, I would have cast something lethal on myself weeks ago.

[Few times does Nepione grimace, but in this case, his taste in drinks is one of them. Mead would have been better, but perhaps beggars cannot be choosers. Regardless, she finds herself almost immediately appalled by what he follows up with. Almost being key there. What actually happens is she looses the smallest laugh. That's not exactly untrue, is it? Still, she'd like to avoid that particular outcome if she can manage it.

She very willingly offers him the bottle back. He's certainly cured her of her need for drink on this night. Instead, she leans back onto her hands, still focused on the distant trees and the words of wisdom he'd seen fit to previously impart unto her. What she doesn't say, but may very well align with his own thoughts, is what will they do should they exhaust all of their options? What happens at the end of that pathway? She would rather be put down than deal with ceremorphosis.

That seems a little too heavy to say, however, and she really doesn't want to bring it up unless it's absolutely necessary. She hopes it won't come to that, but she feels as if she's steeled herself for the possibility. She has probably thought on that longer than she'd like to admit.

Looking over to him, she offers a slow nod. Right. Moonrise Towers.]

I wonder what we'll find there... Something, I hope. Even if it doesn't provide an answer or something to solidly fix things, maybe we can find the next step to go in. I can live with not having an outright answer, but I want to feel like we're at least making progress.

[Nepione pauses for just a moment, thinking how hypocritical it is that she would seek to scold him for being so honest when she was, only moments ago, thinking something quite similar. As if it's perfectly fine for her thoughts to go to such places and yet it's not for him. Then she shakes her head.]

I, for one, am glad you didn't. Let's keep going together, all right?

[Oh no. There's begging, there's choosing. Ithbank is for neither of those scenarios. Ithbank is a special drink. One intended for the sole purpose of getting blackout drunk very quickly, and risking permanent blindness to remember nothing of it. The fact it is passed right back comes as no surprise. And he cannot help but allow a distinctly amused chuckle to leave his throat as he reclines backward, turning his gaze to the sky.]

I'm sure we'll find quite a lot there. The archdruid mentioned that he thought that the place where people are infected with tadpoles. And as you and I both recall, ours happened upon that nautiloid. I'd bet that's the difference between us and this cult.

[A small sigh leaves him then. One that he cannot feign lightheartedness over- because truly. The idea of venturing into the lions den, so to speak, is worrying. One or two cultists, armed with crude weapons? No issue. But there could easily be thousands there. And where there is a stronghold, they are sure to be outfitted well.

But their path is set. Regardless of how worrying it is. Quite simply, there is no other option.]

Yes, you're right. Put it this way...

[He moves to the side then, lying on his shoulder as he looks to her.]

Alone, we're almost certainly dead. More than thrice over, already- between the hag, the goblin camp... Hells. The creche. I have talents. But if anyone would have told me prior to this that I'd take down an entire creche of murderous Gith, to the last soldier? I wouldn't have believed them. So what I'm trying to say is...

[A smile.]

I'm glad you're here too. Regardless of what happens, we have the best chance of success as a group. And you're an important part of that group. So don't falter, and I won't falter.

[When she starts thinking further back, it occurs to her that she can't even remember what she was doing, where she was going, or much of anything around the time that she wound up on the nautiloid. She, of course, remembers largely everything prior to then, but around that time, it's likely that it happened all so quickly that somewhere those memories remain. Eventually to be rediscovered, though she doubts them to be anything that will be of use to them in the long run.

She can only assume that like Ara, she was probably at the wrong place at the wrong time. The Cult of the Absolute would call them special. True Souls. She doesn't like that phrasing at all. How agitating. There is nothing special about it. But maybe Moonrise holds all of the answers. A part of her can't wait to find out. The rest is terrified of whatever it is they may discover. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

As he continues, she looks over to him, crossing one leg over the other as he recounts tales. The kinds of tales that, in her youth, she would have perceived to be little more than storybook fodder. And yet, here they are living one. Ah, to be an adventurer. At the end of his regaling comes...

Well. She likens it to reassurance. Sometimes she doesn't know where her place is. If she even ought to be with them at all, though she wouldn't like much to admit that. It is possible they all feel that way from time to time. But if he says that she's important... She certainly has to try her very best, doesn't she?

As if Nepione is capable of anything else.]

Yes. Yes, we do. Divided we are weaker. Not weak. Only weaker. I have every confidence that we can make our way forward. I'm not anticipating an easy road, but when the rest of you are also on it, I feel like I can face anything. I won't let anything stop me.

Not to mention the fact that we are who we are. Honestly? being transplanted with a mindflayer tadpole is a ... horrible situation to be in. I'm sure if we lived ten lifetimes, or even a hundred after this one, it'd still be the worst possible thing that has happened to us. But even then... I'm glad. Kind of. That it happened to us in particular.

[He falters then, his eyes narrowing, eyebrows furrowing, as he thinks of how exactly to articulate quite a delicate point well.]

I'm not glad that it happened to me, or you, or the others. Other than a few eccentricities [Namely a warlock, a vampire spawn, and a cursed wizard...] You seem decent enough people. ...Even Lae'zel, actually. Once you get used to being constantly insulted. And, I don't know. I like traveling with you. I'm glad for you. Could've been anyone waking up next to me on that beach. Hells. Could have been a band of bugbears.

[The half-elf rises- or at least partially rises- into a sitting position. The bottle is, again, supped from. Likely his last drink of it. Especially if he wanted to get back to the encampment without falling on the road back.]

So we have time, a quite likable strength in numbers, and a path to follow... however it ends. Hopefully, things are clearer now. But even then, if you're still at a loss, then we'll hit the mead like you wanted when we get back.

[It is a good thing that he clarifies. Of all of the ways Nepione would describe it, being 'glad' for it, is probably not one of them. But there is a part of her that realises if it was not them, it would be others in their place. Maybe it is defeatist thinking, but she'd rather it be her than others.

Her head tilts as she listens to his explanation, deciding that his feelings are valid. Not that she imagines they could have been anything but.]

I do like thinking my companionship is vastly superior to that of a bugbear.

[The tiefling is capable of issuing just a touch of humour, the corners of her mouth lifting. Although it is somewhat softened by the way he brings them right back to how they got to the present moment in the first place. Are her concerns assuaged at all? She's not certain. Fear still lingers in the deepest pits of her, though they are less to do with her and certainly more to do with Ara and the others.

Instead of providing him with immediate response, she simply turns his words over with a gentle consideration. Her smile lessens into something a bit more sweet. Appreciative. Perhaps a touch wistful.]

Perhaps I see clarity in a way I didn't expect. [Nepione admits quietly.] How that will impact me tomorrow morning, in the days to come, I don't know just yet. But this has been nice. Too many of these nights I spend in my own head. It was nice to spend a little time in yours instead.

You don't have fleas, for a start. Or a taste for my flesh.

[Ha, victory! He's under no allusion that getting a guffaw out of Nephione is something likely. Whether by her nature or the creature within her head, she seems far too solemn for something like that. So yes. He's taking this as a victory, thank you very much.

Saying that, her appreciation isn't lost on him. He gathers himself, getting to his feet and dusting off his knees, before he tilts the bottle upside down, emptying out what remains at the tree he had supported himself on. It may as well have a drink too.]

If you enjoyed it so much, then let's do this again. Any time you'd like to get out of your head for the night, come find me. Likely, there's all kinds of things out there as we travel. And I can try to make metaphors out of them.

[A bright smile follows, and he extends his hand to her.]

If you want, of course.

[She smiles knowingly, biting down over the temptation to quickly respond with something akin to 'that you know of' and instead, she simply leaves it at is. Although truth be told, he's probably right. How many people look at a tiefling and a bugbear and notice there is an actual difference? There are likely many out in the world who would interpret both as being near the same.

If not the same outright. For some reason, she continues to be surprised when non-tieflings don't seem to take notice or simply don't care about who and what she is. It's a good feeling to come into contact with. She doesn't respond immediately, instead eyeing his offered hand for just a breath or two before taking it. Her touch is remarkably careful, though perhaps expected given her rather transparent demeanour. As mindful of her claws as she ever is, she uses him to pull herself to her feet, giving another long look to the trees far below and into the distance.]

That's a tempting offer. [She admits, turning her attention back onto him, and for just a moment, she takes his hand between her own, as if through touch alone she might be able to express all of the warmth he grants her by giving her something so very simple. Or maybe, she's just a foolishly sentimental creature. It's probably that one.] Sometimes it's good for me to be in my head. Keeps me level. Shows me what I need to be really looking at and keeping in consideration.

[That is, restraint and discipline, Nepione's two favourite words, it seems.]

But when that burden becomes too much, I'll learn to let some of it go. Perhaps you'll be able with that. And I'll make sure I'm not too much of a stranger. Without taking advantage of your kindness, of course.

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Sorry for the delay! Had a busy weekend ;w;

No need for apologies! Take all the time you need! :]

does so... haha I'd apologize again if it wasn't needed /o\

Beautiful words are always worth the wait.

Aw, you're too kind! ♥

♥!

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