[ AW ] Animée d'un même esprit

Mist swirled and danced about him. It caused droplets to cling to his muted coat. At his left side, as always, shadows danced and twisted along with each step. There was a whispering among the trees, or perhaps it was just the wind. It was hard to tell sometimes. Voices presented themselves to him and not everyone seemed to notice them. What they were saying was a whole different story. Not always were there words to make out. Sometimes there were only feelings to accompany the words.

Ver paused near a rune carved stone and his head tilted as if he was listening intently to something or someone. Colobomatic left eye twitched in its socket as it followed the dancing of the shadows that appeared strictly on that side. "Cò tha ann?" Lilted voice called out. Ears twitched atop his skull as he listened for a response. The whispering of the wind continued, as well as the over all feeling of simply not being alone. Someone, something, else was there. He was certain of it. The prickling of fur along his spine was enough of an indication that he couldn't completely be imagining things, now could he? Sadly it was a possibility though.



Cò tha ann? = Who is there?

Oh how lost is the changeling child now? Whispers on the wind--from the spirits?--Tell the little starlight druid that someone seeks him. But who? He cannot know and does not wish to know. He wanders as he ever does, lost and yet unwilling to find his way. He is often led to places--be they by the fae that dance in the corners of his eyes or by the spirits that whisper in his ears when he sleeps, or maybe even simply by his paws demanding he walk until he can't any longer. And now he is lost in the mists, his brows furrowed. The White Rabbit is nowhere to be found, the flickering lights that are the fae also missing. All that's here now is a heavy fog that rolls around his feet and blurs his already stunted vision. The winter chill has reached him here and he worries--wonders?--if maybe this is where he is supposed to freeze. He stumbles through the terrain, seeking something--uncertain of what it is, just that he'll know it when he sees it. If he sees it. If it exists here? Maybe? The stones begin to make a strange pattern and he cocks his head--not quite the cairns he is used to, things carved into their surface in broken swirls and jagged patterns that he has never seen. If his father was here, he would know! ....But he is not, and Jupiter is left without the knowledge to read them.

Cò tha ann? A voice! He vaguely recognizes it as the same language that Cethen speaks, but he does not know those words. Discomfort spreads through his body and he shuffles in place, an uneasy fear beginning to snake its way into his person. He doesn't know. Does he answer? Can he? Should he?
"L..lost...? Again...."

@Vercingetorix

A voice responds to him but it is not the Fae. The Fae don't use those words. The Fae spoke Gaelic. This was an earthen voice that spoke the coarse language of the Mainlanders. Ver knew this language too but it lacked the melodic quality that the language of the Fae held. So it definitely wasn't the dancing shadows to his left that spoke. That left him to wonder whom it was then.

Head turned so that his right eye could peer around. With this one he could make out the world as others saw it, though perhaps without the vibrancy that others had mentioned. But he could see colors and shapes and objects whereas on his left side there were only flickering lights and evasive shadows.

But even an inspection with his right eye had him unable to pinpoint the source of the voice. Wherever it was coming from it wasn't within his immediate line of sight.

"Who are you? Where are you hiding? Come out now." Even though he spoke in English there was still that Gaelic lilt to his voice that would alter them slightly.