THIS ISN'T A TEST / palm glades

[WEEPINGSHADE]

CALLING THE WORLD FROM ISOLATION

WEEPINGSHADE  —  THE PALM GLADES

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This would be his first time away from home in a long time - not since Rhine had just left them. Even then, he hadn't gone out past the extents of the mainland. He simply didn't have the means to, nor did he feel particularly courageous enough to try. The pirates had been friends with them for a while, but there was something so intimidating about going out to properly face them, traveling that three mile railroad track with nothing but himself and no way to go besides backwards or forwards. However, as the new legate, it was technically his duty now to at least try and make an effort to push on outside relations. He didn't want to lose the Typhoon in a time like this, and he hoped that whatever was happening to them, they wouldn't want to lose them either. He's new to this sort of idea, mostly sticking to his own group's ideals of keeping to themselves. But, he was sure he wanted to make a good impression, and so he brought with him a fairly large gift basket. It was maybe a little too big for his stature.

Still, Weeping was determined as he held his head high above the waters, not allowing it to get soggy from the waves lapping at his pawsteps. The feline felt relieved once he made it to the gate, reaching his head just a bit past it to ensure he could set down the basket on dry land. The feline shakes himself out, observing the gate in front of him quietly. A bucket of snakes would cause him to hesitate to lift his paw, eyes watching them carefully. Whatever they were, they didn't seem particularly friendly. That and...well, the head, that wasn't very welcoming either. Nonetheless, what more could he expect? They didn't advertise themselves as some peace seeking group. It was likely effective to ward off anyone who thought of being stupid if they had any second thoughts about it.

Clearing his throat, he'd lift his paw and ring the bell in a gentle manner once, looking around with pricked ears. "Um, hello! I come from the Palm Glades, with gifts." He'd call out, glancing to the gift basket he'd set out in front of him. It contained a peregrine falcon recently caught, along with a couple voles, and some flowers he'd just happened to think were pretty.

[LETHE ELD-CIPHER]

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Gifts? He likes gifts. His flight is shaky, and so instead the wyvern finds himself walking along at the smell of foreign group in the air. Or, at least, he suspect it to be foreign. The same faint scent of the shore (something he had carried before arriving in the Typhoon), the sharpness of sand, the salt of the sea. The noise helped the wyvern narrow down his trot to find the person on the border. Near a bell. How hadn't he noticed that bell before? That thought was quite humorous to him, and brought a smile to his face as he approached.

"Food gits? These are lovely," Jotunhel cooed, leaning his head down to inspect the gifts. "Very generous. Mind if I take a closer look?" He asked as he pulled his strained wing closer, helping him bend down to get a bit more eye level with the newly appointed leader of a foreign land. "Oh, my name's Jotunhel. Can I get a name for the one bringing these gracious gifts? You look wonderful, by the way, very healthy," he continued, snout twitching as he sniffed at the basket of delicious goodies.

jotunhel ._. wyvern ._. tags

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[ROSEMARY]

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From a high perch in the tallest tree around the gate, the witch poked her head out through the leaves. Her four eyes focused on the stranger, and her ears twitched as the ocean breeze carried the Palm Glades scent. The smell matched their words, but Rosemary hadn’t seen the calico before. Perhaps she’d missed him since she visited the Palm Glades. Or he’d joined after she’d visited; after all, she hadn’t seen the beach himbos in several months.

Rosemary jumped from the tree, gracefully slowing her descent with an updraft. She decelerated to a crawl, and her white paws touched down without a sound.

The witch licked her lips, tilting her head, and sat down next to Jotunhel on the side of his injured wing; she gauged his healing from a discrete look. Well, a discrete look with one pair of eyes. The other never left the stranger.

“I haven’t seen you before? I’d also, um, like a name to go with your face. I’m Rosemary—she/her pronouns, please—and I’ve visited your home before. Not in a while, though, I’ll admit.”

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PEACEFALL

peace comes at dawn, but yours comes at night