Boy Meets Girl

Log Info

• Title: Boy Meets Girl
• Emitter: -
• Characters: Fiaol, Shadair
• NPCs: Various Snowballs
• Place: Just Outside of Alexandria
• Summary: It's winter, but that doesn't mean that folk refrain from walking in the snow outside of the city. While on patrol, Fiaol runs across the Althean Shadair and the pair have a conversation. And exchange a few snowballs.

Through the light woods and well away from the main road, a long figure walks through the snows that have gathered beneath the trees. The figure is well clothed against the chill, heavy furs protecting a masculine outline from toe to neck and a hood that would normally be doing the work to save the head from the cold is set back. As a result, anyone can see Shadair's head and somewhat chilly face. At the moment, he appears to be stopped, leaning with his back against one of the trees that threaten to drop the accumulated snows they carry and bury him at any moment, the wind adding to that threat. The young half-elf appears to be just looking up into those same trees and the sky beyond, a thoughtful if distant expression upon his face.

No matter how much one tries, snow crunches when one walks upon it. Still, keeping as silent as possible in this winter wood, another lone figure, wrapped in hues of brown and green walks, bow out, but no arrow knocked and ready. Instead, as the figure draws closer to the spot where the half-elf stands, staring up at the sky and trees, it stops. One gloved hand reaches up and pulls back the hood, revealing a red-headed human woman. Eyes dart up to the sky, scanning the trees, before she looks back to the figure. stepping closer as silently as she can, after all it is a habit of hers after all these years, she studies the man. Again she looks up, trying to see what he sees, before she looks back at him. "Do not stand there too long, or the cold will settle in on you," she advises.

GAME: Fiaol rolls stealth: (16)+4: 20

GAME: Shadair rolls Perception: (18)+8: 26

The smiling half-elf continues to look at the contrast of tree and sky, showing no signs of surprise when the other individual speaks, but rather giving a tiny shrug underneath those furs. "I know, I know. Easy to get lost in enjoying the beauty of it all though, warming the soul to a point you forget that the body is getting cold hey?" His amber eyes are finally brought down from the lofty heights as Shadair partly turns to more directly face his stalker. With a warm smile, it does not appear that he considers the red-headed woman any threat. "Good day to you, hunter." Offering a small bow in the furs he currently wears, the young man continues. "My name is Shadair, of. . well. . recently Returned Alexandria I guess. And who might you be? From the city, or beyond?" It is a common question asked in these parts now, given what happened.

The woman watches Shadair for a long moment, her emerald eyes trying to size the man up before she relaxes more. "Fiaol Dilis... Fia is fine. Most have trouble with the name, but growing up in the Mythwood, so near the elves, it ... anyway," she notes with a wave of her hand. "Huntress of the Beast King, at your service. And I am from outside of the mists. You have no idea how glad I was to find them lifted. We ... need Alexandria."

"Trouble with 'Fiaol?' But why? Well perhaps some humans, or dwarfs might struggle with it. Their tongues can be rather simple sometimes." The half-elf's head tilts just a touch as he ponders that, prior to taking on a smile that actually causes his eyes to squint a touch. "An honor to meet you, Fiaol Dilis, Huntress of Gilead." Another small bow is offered, Shadair taking a step away from the tree he was leaning on. "My teachers at the temple never seem to have anything bad to say about the Beast King. I am a devotee of Althea, peace be your road. Eerr..." Taken then off-guard by something the red-head said, Shadair blinks and stops. "Need Alexandria? I. . . well I know much time has passed and much has changed but, need?"

Fiaol smiles warmly. "I would hope they would not, after all, can you imagine Althea's clergy besmirching their Goddess' son?" she asks with an amused shake of her head. Then the woman sighs at the last part, nodding her head wearily. "Yes, these five years have been ... Hell, to put it mildly," she notes. "Garm has been out in force, keeping those of us of Gilead and the Silver Crescent busy. Taara has surpassed her husband and lays claim to the Pantheon of the Dark. Charn has fallen, and been rebuilt with Taara at it's head. They have a floating fortress now, it is said. Dragonier fell when the skeleton Heth killed the great Gold which lead it. Myrridon has fallen into civil war between the brother princes, and Rune collapsed. The elves have come forth from their forests in greater numbers and ..." Fiaol shakes her head and looks up at the sky with a sigh. "Here, for now, there is peace. There is no peace anywhere else on the face of Aerth."

As Shadair listens, his expression falls further and further as Fiaol explains a rough overview of the world. Finally, he looks quite crestfallen as he looks at the huntress, his voice quiet. "S-someone had said something about people back home raising armies but. .. that is overwhelming." For that moment, the scar-faced youth's skin could match the snow's own color before he offers a piece of explaination. "I'm from Lyranost. My. . . my sister and I came to Alexandria just a short time before we were cut off in whatever strange event that was. I knew time had passed but. . . Rune? Dragonier? Civil war and trouble everywhere? Need." He breathes thoughfully, "Yes I guess I could see that. Need, and hoping that Alexandira had not fallen similarly hey?" Still looking a bit shellshocked, the half-elf just stands there trying to absorb it.

"Truth be told, I was worried Alexandria had been whisked away by the Spider and we'd never seen it again. Or if we did, everyone still in the city would have become corrupted by the wicked Sorceress' ways and the world would be doomed," notes Fiaol with a heavy sigh. "But I did not voice that last. No need voicing dread and depression and doom in times like these. Even a solitary hunter such as myself must put on a face of hope when I encounter others. They watch always, because of their need."

"Some of us were worried something similar. Even now I don't know that anyone has any idea what happened or why, or how we got back." Shadair slowly recovers, taking a step closer as he does so and still thoughtful of expression if low spirited for the moment. "People were starting to fear starvation and worse too. So strange, had we inside the city experienced the five years that the world here did... well I think some of your own worries would have been realized." Then with a deep breath, the young man looks a little better, if only on the outside via a small smile. "And you Fiaol, have watched these woods and the Mythwoods alone?"

"Not alone, no. But we of the Hunter tend to be a solitary lot. Neccessity, really," Fiaol says with a smile. "Still, when the time came to hunt the Children of Garm, we do manage to gather in numbers. My father chose the Mythwood has his range... He was not really part of the clergy, but his wisdom was sought by many and he follows Gilead in faith even to this day. The Hunter, however," says the woman with a roll of her shoulders, "for some reason called me to a different path."

"The gods have a calling for each of us. Blessed are those who realize and find that calling." Shadair certainly sounds like a priest there. His smile going soft and even bowing his head in a short moment of reverence. "Whatever Gilead's reason for wanting you doing what you do, it is a wonderful thing that you know it. So many in life never find their path." Then Shadair hits upon another subject. "Do you maintain your home near here then? Or are you perhaps on a longer patrol?"

"I still live at home with my parents. Father and I take turns, if it is peaceful, leaving the house so mother isn't alone for a long time. I came southwards scouting some disturbences when I found the mists were /gone/," notes Fiaol with a shake of her head. "So ... I either came out here, or begrudgingly hand over coin for a room. Though, I have been talking to the Sky Dancer's clergy, perhaps I can stay at her temple if I am to be in Alexandria longer." Fiaol laughs then, smiling at Shadair. "You do not understand. My father is a ranger of the forest, a hunter at one with nature. I, on the other hand, am a holy warrior of the Hunter - a paladin if you will." Fiaol pats her bow, then looks at Shadair. "With a bow, instead of the sword. And as far as I know, I am the only Paladin of Gilead in this area. There may be more, but we are an exceedingly rare breed."

"Ohhh." Shadair says with an 'O' mouth while Fiaol explains the fullness of her calling. "Rare indeed. I don't think I've ever even heard of a paladin of Gilead before. Amazing." Looking upon the human female in a clearly new light, there is some measure of wonder in his look. "You are truly called and destined, I would think. I am even more honored to meet you then I was before!" This time he provides a deeper bow to her, as though he expects her status to have just risen in the world. "And so now, your father keeps your mother company, while you are. . umm . . rediscovering Alexandros?"

Fiaol shakes her head at Shadair and reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Please. There is no need to bow, Blessed of Telamentar," she states with a warm smile. "Well, he is getting older and the cold bites into his bones so ... yes, I tend to be out more in the winter than he is. Still..." she says with a far-off gaze, "I think he likes spending the time with mother. I've written and procured a courier, sending them a message with the details of what I have found so they know where I am and what I am up to and do not worry over me."

Shadair feels that hand upon his shoulder, or more precisely the weight of it through the winter fur he wears. Standing straight once more, his expression is returning to the more pleasant one of the moment they first greeted. "Worry over-much you mean. I've not met a parent yet who did not worry at least a little when their child so much as set foot outside the house. Sometimes there's even good reason to worry." A flicker of sadness runs through the half-elf's features there but is gone just as swiftly at it appears with a soft laugh, "And what man would want to be out in the cold of winter when he could be with his lovely wife instead? For surely she must be beautiful and he handsome indeed to produce a daughter like yourself hey?"

Fiaol blinks and arches a brow at Shadair. "Are... are you ... flirting with me?" she asks with pure curiousity, as if ... shocked at the prospect someone would ... flirt with her. Then she blushes a little bit. "Well, I am biased, but I find my parents just right on the beautiful and handsome scale, of course," she admits after a moment with a bit of a confused air.

Shadair suddenly blinks at the question, looking puzzled. Then confused. Then wide-eyed shocked and finally blushing a deep red that shows even more than the red hue of the tip of his cold nose! Ungloved hands appear from folds in his wintery coat to wave defensively in front of himself in a somewhat panicked response! "Wait wha- No! I mean you are lovely so they-- err But, see I just meant. N-not that no one /would/ flirt with you. Because you /are/ lovely and I mea--- oohh." With a wince at himself, head dropping low and pulling his hood deeply over himself, Shadair tries to hide, even turning to one side and hunching up with a quickly spoken, "I'm sorry, shutting up now."

Fiaol tilts her head to the side, then laughs warmly. "Shadair," she says with a shake of her head as she reaches out to lightly tap his cheek in a gentle manner. "I've been raised as a ranger, and called by the Hunter as one of his warriors. I haven't really grown up around ... people. I've ... never had anyone flirting with me before," she says, laughing a bit more. "It's nice to know what it finally is. I like it."

Still featuring burning cheeks, the half-elf swallows hard once while still covered by the hood. His reaction to Fiaol touching his cheek is a slight start. A sharp slap was more along the lines he would have expected, or a disgusted reaction at least. "I..." So much for monastic mental discipline and training hmm? Then with a steadying breath he speaks, still hidding himself by looking straight at the snow. "I did not really mean to. But, well you /are/ lovely from what I can see and I didn't think.." Then he blinks, something she mentioned coming to him. "No one has flirted with you before?" Looking confused, Shadair forgets to hide, looking back to the human woman with a tilted face that is still flushed. "I mean I guess not being around people much would cut down on chances but. . . how could nobody try to flirt with someone like you? I mean, even someone as ugly as /me/ would. Or. . ahem, I guess, just did." With a sheepish look, he appears quite confused by her assertion. MAIL: You have a new message from Shadair.

"I see no ugliness, Shadair," offers Fiaol with a shake of her head. "Surely your work with Althea has taught you that the light of one's soul outshines whatever mortal trappings they have been given." Fiaol laughs a bit then again and shrugs, "Well, there hasn't really been time. Even when around others, we have been busy on the Hunt, or protecting villages and the like. Remember, for me, it has been five years since Alexandria disappeared," she notes gently, before shaking her head. "Really, I would have thought that Althea's folk would have stripped you of the silliness of personal beauty. What makes you ugly, honestly, Shadair?" asks the Huntress with an upraised eyebrow.

Shadair smirks ruefully, half-convinced that the paladin of the wilds is teasing him. With one of those ungloved hands tracing the line of the large disfiguring scar down his face, from above the eye to the chin he speaks. "Not really hard to miss." With a sigh, the hand falls to his side again. "Such things do not matter to Althea, nor to many gods for that matter. Something which you can be sure I am grateful. Even so, I guess I'm not /so/ spiritual that I don't notice when people flinch at seeing my face or shy away or in some cases just stare." Flushing a little again, "One of my teachers tried to suggest it was dignifying. But that doesn't help much." At last he shrugs his shoulders, "Okay, I admit it, some of me /wishes/ I could be vain. It's my failing."

Fiaol leans faintly to the side, watching Shadair trace the scar. Then the woman just shrugs. "It is a scar. Many people have them," she offers with a shrug of her shoulders, utterly indifferent to the line across the man's face. "I have one on my shoulder, well, a trio, from where one of Garm's Children raked me across the back. I do not hide it because I find it ugly. It is beneath my armor, is all. Nor would I hide it if it were across my face. It is a part of who I am now, and if some would shy away, more fool they for it. I see nothing ugly in your face, Shadair, scar or no."

With a blink, Shadair looks taken aback. Twice in a week he's met people with similar views? The concept boggles the cleric/monk. "W-well, it's not exactly /attractive/ thou-" The word is broken in mid-effort to defend the idea that he is ugly for the wound, part of what she said striking him just then. "Nothing ugly? Well I. . ." Flushing yet again, the half-elf clears his throat. "Thank you. As you can imagine, I. . . don't hear that often."

"Hmmmm... no I cannot imagine," notes Fiaol with a bit of a shrug. "Again, the whole ... not around large amounts of people often," she says with another smile. "While I wouldn't call it extenquished, it /DOES/ speak of experience. I like that," she notes with another shrug. "A man who learns from his own experience is a wise man indeed." Freya pages: all us newbies :P Long distance to Freya: Fiaol grins. Well, kraken coming depends on his work cooperating. If he can't, you're in. But is just too much for me, alas. 5 is pushing it, but I figured I'd do as many as I could. Freya pages: I suspect I won't be conscious that early, but we shall see ;) Long distance to Freya: Fiaol nodnods.

The half-elf suddenly chuckles, almost surprising himself more than anything else. "I would like to think I would not regularly face down superior numbers of armed bandits alone." Quickly however he loses the humor. "Cannot say I would have done differently though either. Not much wisdom there maybe but." With a shrug, Shadair clears his throat again to look back to the female. "That is all, very kind of you Fiaol. Again, thank you. Are, you headed to stay in Alexandria now? Or will you be enjoying the fine ice-camping out here tonight?" Change the subject! Quick!

"Oh, KNOWING it isn't a good idea is common sense. Doing it anyway, because it is the right thing to do, is Wisdom. There is, actually, a very fine difference between the two," notes Fiaol, smiling again. "And you lived. That speaks to your luck or your skill, or both," she notes, reaching out to squeeze the young man's shoulder again. At the question, Fia glances around, looking up into the sky, frowning faintly. "Oh, probably Alexandria. It's been a while since I've had a bed. I'm enjoying it, I admit," she says. "And I'm waiting for the Council to ask to see me - being from outside the mists and all."

Shadair sighs with a shrug into that shoulder-squeeze. "My luck and my parent's skill. Benefit of having seasoned adventurers for mother and father hey?" The half-elf then half turns toward the distant city and motions to it. "May I travel with you back then? I came out for solitude but, I think I've had my fill of that." Oh smooth, might as well beg to cling to her coat tails. Still the cleric/monk manages to not look too foolish asking to keep Fiaol's presense around somewhat longer. "It would be a pleasure I think to walk back with you. I am sure the council will wish to speak with you soon. I was part of a patrol just a few days ago sent out to see the countryside. Not far from here either actually. A lot of questions and a lot of tragedy..

Fiaol nods, sobering for a moment with a frown. "Yes, there is much that has happened this five years, and precious little, if any, of it is good. Certainly not /enough/," she notes. There is a moment of silence which hangs in the air around Fiaol, before she shifts her eyes to glance sidelong at Shadair. "Come then," the Huntress notes, managing a little smile. "I find that companionship into the city is enjoyable myself, and I would like your presence along side, Shadair," offers the Paladin. Does she sense how nervous of foolish he feels? She does not show it if she does. "Tell me, if you will, Shadair - what does one of Althea, like yourself, do in Alexandria? I have never traveled to a city so large, and certainly so diverse before," offers Fiaol. "I find it intriguing. Though... if I were to stay more permanantly, I would move out here to the woods. Not too far, but not boxed into set streets and paths."

With a slightly sheepish smile, Shadair executes still another bow, just a tiny one however. "Then I am pleased to accept your gracious offer, Fiaol Dilis. Huntress of Gilead." Then taking a place alongside the young woman, he begins to walk with her, pulling his hood back at last. To her question, the half-elf glances at her sidelong with a tilt of his head. "In a city, like everywhere but, perhaps most of all in cities with so many people there is need for mercy, care and healing." Crunching through the snow, Shadair's hands disappear back into his furs. "That is what I do mainly, healing the sick and injured, providing aid to people whenever they need it. Most of my work I end up doing well away from the temple, I am not part of the 'staff' there as such but I volunteer time when I can." With a chuckle, he continues. "I'm not a great fan of how packed things can be myself, but with Caillyn going to school at the magic academy we were best set nearby and that meant an apartment."

"Caillyn?" casually asks Fiaol as she walks along next to Shadair. Unlike the cleric, the young woman does not tuck her hands in her cloak, though she does swing her bow over her shoulder. "Hmmmm, is it nice, being able to heal the sick and care for the injured? I have, at times, healed animals armed by irresponsible parties... but the sort of ... curse that comes with the Children of Garm is beyond my capabilities to cure, alas."

"It is a good feeling to see people getting better from a sickness or a wound." Shadair smiles softly as they walk, thinking on the subject. "Seeing a newly healthy child and his parents embrace never fails to warm my soul." Nodding a little more solemnly with respect to the werewolf problem, he sighs as he speaks. "And nothing quite makes it easy to see bad things go downhill. To death or, well. . . worse." Then he blinks catching something from just a moment before. "Oh! Caillyn yes, my sister." He gives a short laugh. "She's the real reason we are in Alexandria at all really. I could have finished my training anywhere, but she. Well she's a sorceress you see, our parents wanted her going to Alexandria and nowhere else to learn to control her powers. Not that she's great at it yet, she froze my bottom to the table last week. You'll like her though, I know." A thought occurs to the cleric/monk then, and finally he touches another subject. "S-speaking of that. You know, if you find the temple full up or just uncomfortable, we could offer you a place to sleep. I know Caillyn wouldn't mind, she'd be bouncing happy to have another girl in the apartment if only for a little while. We, well we don't have a forest of space but, we /do/ have room. Mother and father ensure that. Would you, think about it? At the very least. . . yes! If you aren't busy, maybe you can come for supper? Meet Caillyn? There will be more than enough stew that I will be making."

The Huntress considers as the pair walk along. "Well, we shall see," she offers Shadair with a glance and a smile. "One wouldn't want things to be deemed improper, after all," she jokes as she strides easily along. "My preference is a temple, I admit. And the Sky Dancer is, often enough, happy to take in her brother's followers. But yes... I shall consider it," notes Fiaol. Then she arches an eyebrow upwards. "Froze you to a table, hmmm? Then I certain hope she /DOES/ like me, lest I am frozen to a single spot and unable to move again!"

Shadair chuckles and nods. "Yes. Protective big brother worried about her dating." Shrugging he continues, "I know I probably deserved it, but I /am/ supposed to watch over her." Once his mind gets to the suggestion that her staying with him might be considered inappropriate, the half-elf goes utterly red in the face again. "Inappropri-- oh! Err, no! I mean, you'd have your /own/ bed and.. No. I'm sorry I didn't think of that. But even so, it would probably end up more like some sleep-over with Caillyn than any thought of you 'staying with me.' That's one thing my scar would be good for. No one would believe it." A wry smirk touches his lips. "And yes, sleep-over. Caillyn reveres The Beast King over all others too you know. She'd likely be so happy to have another female in the apartment she'd drag the guest bed out of it's room and into hers so you can stay with her and talk all night and whatnot." Finally he shrugs, "I would agree though, staying at the temple might be easier for you. Please though, do come for supper at least? Like I said, we'll have more than we need. It's the price of my cooking style. Almost had to give up making meals completely when the food supplies were cut off."

Fiaol listens to Shadair stammer away and fumble over an unneeded apology and self-depircating insult. The young woman simply nods as she listens to the Althean as he keeps talking, her emotions simply a calm mask upon her features. "I am always willing to speak to another follower of the Hunter," she notes easily enough, before ducking, running fingers over a branch on the ground and scooping up some snow. Then Fiaol tosses it directly at Shadair's head, and not too softly, either. "That is for being obsessed on a scar that matters nothing," she notes, before bending down and scooping up another handful and throwing it at Shadair again. "That is for fixating on your appearance, and then lying to yourself about it." And lastly, Fiaol bends down again, and scoops up another handful of snow, throwing this one at Shadair's shoulder. "And that was just for fun."

Paph! The first snowball catches Shadair clean on the side of the head as he was looking forward, sending him staggering to the side as much by surprise as force. Bamph! The second takes him in the chest as the half-elf in the chest as he regains some semblance of balance, staring at the human in shock. Paft! The third explodes on his shoulder and Shadair reacts to it as though struck much harder, "Ohhh!" Clearly feigning a wounding he spins slowly around and bends over, just happening to pick up some snow in unprotected hands as he completes the spin and fires back at his assailant! "And that's for. . umm. . yeah!" There is good humor in his eyes then, at least for the moment not thinking about his disfigurations.

A hand raises too slowly to protect herself, and Fiaol blinks and laughs as snow sprays her face from where the cleric's attack explodes just below her chin. "Ahhh! Well worded!" she teases, grinning, scooping up another handful. "At least you can allow your sense of humor out of your shell periodically, Shadair!" is called before another attack is flung by the Huntress.

"I don't have a shell. I'm not a figh--" Paph! Had Shadair been fully in the spirit of the snowball, he likely could have dodged that one. As it was he was too busy making a mockery of a serious pose and joking about metal-shelled fighters when Fiaol's snowball strikes him in the face, in the mouth might be more appropriate to note. Suddenly looking stunned with a single finger in the air to emphasize the now dead point, the half-elf blinks pluphs as he spits snow out of his mouth and still with chunks of the icy stuff on his features begins to drift backward. It is almost like watching a ship sink at sea, back, back and back a little further, till it is past the point of no return and nothing can be done. Standing still then, Shadair ploofs into the snow behind him, playing dead!

There are several blinks as Fiaol stands where she is, staring down at the 'playing dead' Althean. Surely ... he's not hurt. It was just snow. Looking at her hand, Fiaol frowns and considers the weight and wondering if there had been a rock in what she had gathered. When Shadair doesn't move for a moment, this causes Fiaol even more concern. Striding quickly over, the Huntress kneals by the man's side, reaching out to put a hand on his chest, searching for breath, even as she leans over his face to study it for damage.

The male's chest is well hidden by the thick fur coat, and for the moment he does not appear to even be breathing, the steam indicative of warm breath not rising from his mouth or nostrils. Of course, it is only because Shadair was holding his breath. The trap worked! With a lightning motion, both hands to the half-elf's sides emerge from the snow with notable amounts of the stuff in each. A dual hand-held load of snow is suddenly pressed into the forest paladin's face and hair, one hand going for the front and the other for the back as the surprise attack is launched! "Gotcha! I win!" Perhaps a little premature celebration, Shadair does not even stand up yet. Instead he lays still in the snow laughing and snerking at his victory.

Fiaol is surprised by this, not expecting an Althean to 'play dead' of course. Snow is pressed into her face, and into her hair, leaving the human blinking emerald eyes as the snow starts to fall away. For a moment, she peers at the man laying there on the ground. She could best him, likely, if she tried, considers Fiaol, but ... he is in a good mood now, why ruin it. Instead, Fiaol wrinkles her nose with a smile and just laughs along with him. Letting Shadair enjoy his victory.

The male's laughter /is/ honestly happy too. Tiny hints of childlike amusement slipping in almost imperceptably, almost. Shadair even holds himself for a moment rolling just a bit as he laughs, "Ohhh that was great. I can't believe you fell for that! And the look on your face! Hehehehe!" Descending into a fit of laughter, the half-elf comes out of it slowly with a pleased sigh, still laying in the snow. "Thanks. I'd almost forgotten about snowball fights and honestly /playing/ in weather like this." Arching his back to sit up without the aid of hands, he lets the waist do the work even with those bulky clothes. "Though I suppose we should get moving too. Else we'll end up having to build a snow fort and toughing it out here hey?" There is still that happy smile though, a look which might almost make the scar disappear from notice for anyone looking at him.

Green eyes watch Shadair in his complete joy of the moment, curious and yet enjoying it herself. Fiaol finally nods, chuckling here and there at the young man's comments. "That would," she notes, glancing around, and up at the sky, "likely be wise." As Shadair smiles more, so does Fiaol, nodding. There, the scar doesn't keep him from smiling, it is all in the young man's own mind. A bit pleased at the outcome, Fiaol stands up, then thrusts out her right hand to Shadair, the one with two fingers ungloved. "Besides, won't your sister be wondering where you are? One does not anger or over-worry a sorceress I have heard."

With a happy sigh, Shadair rises to his feet with the offered help from Fiaol's arrow hand. Brushing off snow from himself with a shake to complete the thing before being side-tracked by the paladin's hair. "Oh, just a sec." Without even asking, two fingers slip around her head to slide a chunk of pressed snow out and let it drop to the ground. "There now! Don't need that melting in your hair and dripping down your back hey?" With a strong exhale high into the air as he too looks to the sky, Shadair nods. "Caillyn would get upset if I were gone overlong yes. And she might not be able to help but freeze my hair or something expressing it." With a short laugh he adds, "You don't need to worry though, I know it." He appears ready for the pair to resume their course to the city.

Green eyes roll, following Shadair's hand for as long as she can, before nodding as he speaks and pulls the hand back. "Indeed, thank you, Shadair," she notes in her calm tone, with just a hint of smile in her tone. "Your sister sounds quite the interesting creature," notes Fiaol with a shake of her head. "Very well, I shall come and join you for supper, if you don't mind my ... casual attire," she notes with a wave of her hand to her browns and greens. Shifting her cloak just a bit, Fiaol turns back to Shadair, watching him for a moment, before shaking her head. "It would be a shame to freeze your hair," she notes with a shrug. "You would not look good bald," states Fiaol as the pair head back to Alexandria.