At the densest section of the forest, there is a brief clearing where a steady flow of water streams down the slippery stone staircase. The water here is cool and refreshing. Staircase Falls has been rumoured to be the place where reality is met by magic; where peaceful spirits dwell. They are rumoured to have healing powers that are used to help the desperately hurt, though no one has experienced this, except for, perhaps, Kaive.

Refresh/Reload

give them nothing
IP: 70.56.229.236



talk to the mask bitch: 590

loud. her footfalls are loud. they crack like thunder through the quiet peace created by tranquility surrounding the area. and yet he does not move from his spot. why is he not worried? that is an easy inquiry dear one. anyone with loud steps like that is nothing more than a waste of effort. a soul that has no knowledge of the earth beneath them. they do not appreciate the density of the soil. they do not wish to understand how things grow. the are ignorant of just things that are quite conceivable if they just took the time to look around and absorb it in. but no. she does not hide her perfume. she does not hide her steps. she does not hide herself. this lass who is coming... she wears her heart out on her sleeve. she passes hells creature without a glance at him. only when she is at her most vulnerable position does she turn her dial and acknowledge him. by this time his legs are already in movement. he turns back towards the undergrowth and strides forward. no rush. no hesitation. just. walking.

but her weight leaves the ground and the gargoyle flicks his optics back. the storms they possess in their coloring are everything but subtle. he does not write his thoughts out on a blackboard with sparkling white chalk for everyone in the world to see. this devil is different from the blood lusters that roam around blossom with their balls out to show just who the hell is boss. this one is mild. no temper tantrums from him that will result in bloodshed. he only spills crimson when he so wishes to. there is no average amount of liters spilled per month. no high score of rubies that have hit the ground. there is however a limit to how much he will talk. what he will speak about and also what he will not.

unfortunately the girl let her own poem fall to the floor before the raptor could get out of sight and hearing distance. he stopped easily. there was no dust that arose when he pulled to a halt three feet before the treeline. it was a fluid motion. almsot unbelievable for the naked eye to take in. with a bulk of muscle that large it was a wonder how he had mastered the ability to accomplish such a feat. his scarred muzzle turned back slightly so that she could only see one foggy visionary of his. he was not blind though the color suggested as much. hello there im summerleaf. may i ask for your name? the monsters own voice broke the small amount of silence that blocked the distance between the two. a husky voice with no tone to be heard of escaped his own jowls. mono-tone. flavorless. dull. yet somehow... inspiring. you may. it was not the answer she was looking for but it was an answer all the same.

she would have to be more clever than that. he didnt answer brainless inquiries. she bows towards the grimm creatures frame and he watches her with a solitary eye. unmoving. was she hoping for something? what was that something? her lips part again and the specters voice breaches the current before she can even finish her second inquiry. hell. he waits for her next words. if theres one thing one should know about the bane... its that he never speaks unless spoken to.

fortunately this will change with time.

BANE
give them nothing





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