"Of course you did," Nashira growled, before falling silent for quite some time. Simply listening to the man's high strung words. Hating every last syllable spoken. Every sentence that was laced into his speech. "Similar in that we're both as onerous as donkeys nowadays, child. In that we're as aggressive as tigers having strained their muscles, to leap from a lowly crouch. Sly as a fox poised with a single question: how to get to a ripe batch of grapes, hung directly overhead, just out of reach." The Ethaefal paused as she leaned forward a bit, the ends of her hair tickling her neck as she pulled her hands off the ground. "But in no other way, Ulric." She paused. "In every other sense, we're like night and day." With that said, the Ethaefal eased herself onto her feet, and reached for the fallen sword. Soon picking it up, and sliding it into home; its sheath, hung about her waist. "As for the hurry, there is always business for the lost children. Things we have to attend to to spread the light. To illuminate things cast in the darkness. To educate ourselves; for even though many of us are knowledgeable in many sectors of the mind, we are wise enough to also know, that we know next to nothing despite. That there is still, much we can learn." She paused, "we are always searching Ulric. Not only for a way back... but for other things, and so should you." "Goodness knows how much you need it," Nashira added with a shake of her head. "Now, the road leads that way," she continued, as she raised her hand a moment to point north, before returning it to her side. You are to walk in any other direction. Away. We are not to cross paths again. At least not for a time, her magic whispered in his ear. "To distant lands where there is much to be discovered. Goodbye Ulric," she ended, before crossing his form, and moving past. Into the rocky terrain that lay beyond. |