Completed [White Swan] A gentle Rapping and Tapping. (Oriah)

[Marrick Corvis]

OOC: Precursor The Burden of Silver Evening Winter 40th, 513AV It had been a long day of drilling, patrols, training, riding, and only a handful of short meals to space it all apart. When at last the day had ended and he was given his evening of free time he had suddenly been filled with strange energy. David had recommended he take some time to be in his Raven form daily. Just to keep him sharp. Though, Marrick didn’t think that an evening flight back to Syliras was what he had in mind. He glided over the moors, and fields of Mithryn, toward the tall towers and Battlements of Syliras. The Kelvic pressed all speed he could out of his wings, his destination being a certain window at the white swan. It had gotten to be too much for him to manage. He desperately wanted to see her, and his feeble attempt at poetry was as good an excuse as any. It had been nearly a third of a season since he had received her package, and the guilt weighed heavily on his mind. He thought over the lines in his head as he glided serenely onward. ‘Sands in distant deserts speak, and wounds in beloved hearts leak. Prisoner in lowly dungeon screams, and longingly in silence dreams. Cups of warming drink filled, and dances of delight are stilled. Stones of darkened alleys bleed, and mouths of whispered prayers plead. Light on rooftop shingles gleam, and smiles on squires face beam. Wrong on borrowed time faulted, and right of helpful hands halted.’ The Kelvic had written of their night at the Rearing stallion. It wasn’t a very good poem, and it didn’t capture how he felt. However, it was a start. When he saw her, what would he say, what would he do? No matter, his thoughts were cut short as he flew over the battlements and circled the travelers quarter searching for the white swan. The Kelvic lamented his inability to see color, or depth as a raven. It always created somewhat of a handy cap. Yet, his resolve was undaunted. His wings beginning to weary, he at last found the Swan, and the right window sill to alight upon. Darkness had begun to fill the spaces between the buildings, and the evening toll had sounded long ago. Her window stood open a crack, letting in the evening air. The Kelvic found that just the smallest bit curious. Like a cat he hopped to the breach in the windows to peer inside. Inside the room was lit by lamps, and a small fire in the fireplace. It felt strangely like home, and the Kelvic remembered the softness of the bed, and the marvelous breakfast that he had enjoyed. It had been so different from the meals he had on the farm. However, Marrick would never again be able to live without farm fresh eggs. Though, one thing was missing. Where was Oriah? The Kelvic was worried, though in his short time with his patron, he had learned a thing or two about manners. He found a rather large pain of glass and pecked at it. Announcing his presence with a rapping and tapping.

[Oriah]

Eyes closed and arms limp at her sides, Oriah sat propped against the wall of her room like a battered, lifeless ragdoll. At some point, she had managed to light a fire, thinking she would be cold. Then it became unbearably stuffy after all of her ruthless activity that day and, without enough energy to put the flames out, she had to crack open the window and let some cool air flow into the room.

After that, all she was able to do was slide down onto her rump and pull up her knees so she could rest her dusty, sweaty face against them, too worn and dirty to fall asleep. There was still much to do, besides, now that she had been assigned to be Sera Mora's squire.

In the span of less than a handful of days, the dancer found her life morphing at a speed so rapid she scarce had time to think about it. When she wasn't scrambling to get ready and report at dawn with the other squires, sleepy-eyed and tousled as she was, she was training. It was grueling, to say the least, for someone unused to waking so early and undergoing so much brute exercise. They had given her some lenience and allowed her to stay at the inn until it was time to depart to the fields, but otherwise she was bound to the same rules, expectations, and responsibilities as the rest of her fellow squires.

By the end of the day, it was always more about endurance than skill or finesse. Oriah had never spent so many bells doing nothing but running laps, hacking at straw men, and being grilled over and over all there was to know about her duties as an aspiring knight in Syliras.

At the moment, however, moving was her top priority. The Desert Witch, as some of the other, younger squires liked to call her reclusive patron, was stationed far beyond the city walls. Well, stationed was perhaps not an apt enough word. Roaming, more like. Constantly. All the time. To the point where it was something of a miracle they had even managed to contact her to arrange a meeting in two days.

Two days.

Oriah clutched at her head. It wasn't that moving would be difficult, since she had only enough belongings to burden one side of a pack mule, or that she wasn't thrilled at the idea of meeting her patron. In fact, the Benshira was dying with excitement to begin her training in earnest. She had heard many great things--and many outlandish things, as well--about the eccentric, phantom like Chaktawe knight.

No, it was not an issue of challenge or adversity. It was an issue of a certain, raven-haired squire, the very thought of whom made her heart pitter patter in confused chaos, and who was somewhere out there at Mithryn, clueless as to what life-altering events were about to whisk her away to unknown depths of the forest.

Oriah had tried not long ago to trek out on her own and tell him in person, ingredients for celebratory Bangors at her side, joy in her heart, and utter confidence driving her feet out the gates. But she had failed--miserably so--and was lucky to have even made it back to the city in one piece. Now, Marrick was as ill-informed as ever, and she had no time to remedy his ignorance. She cursed herself over and over for not having sent a letter sooner. Cursed her shoddy grasp of written Common, and cursed her reluctance to send mail because of it. She had put it off, thinking she had more time until her departure, and feeling much too exhausted each night to pick up a quill and labor clumsily through unfamiliar letters.

The girl wrapped her arms around her legs and fought an overwhelming wave of panic and sadness. She'd never felt more lonely in her life. Not when she had left her Tent, not during her first voyage out on the Suvan Seas. Never. It ate at her relentlessly, knowing they would be so close, yet so far...

Tap, tap, tap!

Oriah's heart leaped to her throat as she whipped up her head. Her eyes darted wildly around. Where was it coming from? Her window? She scrambled to her feet and peered up through the glass, wishing for all the world that it would be Marrick's face she would see on the other side, though she knew such a thing was impossible.

He would, after all, require the ability to fly.

"Why hello, pretty bird," she gasped, eyes wide with astonishment, not having expected the sight of a large, ink-black raven rapping against her window pane. She pulled back the glass to see the creature proper and noticed a glint of silver at its taloned feet. Oriah felt her body lean forward of its own accord in excitement. Only one thing could be so small and quickly delivered. Was it...could it possibly be...

A gust of cold, evening wind blew in and sent her shivering in its wake. Feeling a bit rude for making the messenger sit outside in the chilly air, the girl held out her hand to the sleek bird.

"Would you like to come in?" she offered, unsure of what the usual protocol was like for such things, or if she ought to be talking to the creature in the first place. It had curiously pale eyes, and they reminded her a great deal of her absent friend. Perhaps it wasn't so strange, then, that she felt compelled to speak to it.

[Marrick Corvis]

At the sight of her the Kelvics heart melted. He had missed her so much. Just seeing her smiling face, her bright eyes, filled him with hope and happiness. It truly was like looking at the dawn, as Syna rose through the gloomy darkness. She told him he was pretty, and he spluttered to respond in his human voice, yet only a harsh croaking came out. If he had hands he would have palmed his face in frustration. ‘Yer a raven, yah daft bugger! Remember?’ He thought critically of himself. Nervously he ruffled his own feathers and adjusted them into a semblance of order, before he found a proper perch for himself inside the room. Looking past his friend he leapt from the sill and glided gracefully to the table, the sturdy table where they had shared their first breakfast. And at last he let go of the silver cylinder so that the eager wanderer from Ekytol could get her hands on it. “Thank-ence” he imitated in a voice sounding distinctly female. “Cold” He croaked. With a gentle nudging of the silver cylinder, his beak made little tinking sounds against the metal. With that familiar song rising in his heart he offered Oriah her letter. “Message.” His voice came in a warm throaty gurgle. The Kelvic had to admit that his ability to imitate human speech as a bird was getting easier. Just a matter of understanding how his tongue and throat worked in his raven form, and he may even be able to actually say more than just one word at a time. He wanted nothing more than to change before her and reveal who he was to her, but what would she think? Would she spurn him, would she tell him to flee from her sight? Regardless, he was not yet ready to reveal what he was to her. He needed more time. Instead, he nervously he preened himself while she dealt with the letter. He felt absolutely ghastly in Raven form. His molt had started early. He suspected due to the change in climate. Feathers and other bits were coming off of him a little bit at a time, and it made him feel like an old worn out rag doll. With an energetic stroking of his beak against a few of his primary feathers he managed to remove a few of the itchy feathers, hanging from his wings. His compulsiveness sated, he nestled down to rest a moment on the table. And listened to his friend.

[Oriah]

The raven croaked something in response as though it had understood, then ruffled its feathers in a dignified way before sailing into the room with a single, effortless glide. Oriah closed the window with a firm push, aching limbs coursing with newfound energy at the thought of a message from her fellow squire.

No, mustn't get too excited, she reprimanded herself. The letter--if it was a letter at all--could be from anyone within the Order, now that she had been recruited. Such thoughts dampened her spirits a little, but it was a realistic possibility to consider. It wouldn't do to have her silly hopes crushed in the face of such serious events. She had to prove herself worthy of the challenges that lay before her, much as Marrick did. And still was, she imagined. He must be buried in training out there if things were already this hectic within the Wall.

Resolution steeled, Oriah turned to find the messenger perched on her table. For a moment, she could hear Marrick's voice blissfully gushing over their mouth-watering breakfast, the clink of cups and utensils as they conversed in unfettered companionship. She remembered the merriment in his pale eyes when he spoke, his warmth, how close he had gotten when he first held her hand...

An odd croaking startled the girl from her reverie. She jumped a little at the sound before she realized the raven had spoken in thanks, and that it had been cold. Blessed Yahal, Oriah thought as she laughed in delight. A messenger who could talk! A fitting skill for a bird of its profession. She desperately wanted to speak to it more, but the raven was nudging the cylinder now. It was as effective a distraction as any and the dancer found herself walking forward, fingers itching to open the container and unravel what was inside.

"Thank you," Oriah responded a bit breathlessly. Her heart was hammering against her ribs. The air fair crackled with thrilling suspense as she reached to pick up the cylinder and removed the cap. Hands clammy, knees shaky, she held her breath as she unfolded the letter within.

The girl read the first seven words, stopped, and pressed the paper against her chest, face flushed with so many emotions she scarce had the ability to name them. When she looked upon the messenger bird, who was pecking at its feathers before setting on the table top, Oriah felt a rush of gratitude. This raven had delivered to her the single most joyous gift she had received all season. She would have kissed it, if she thought it'd let her. Instead, she rushed over to her discarded pack, where she had stowed away some of her breakfast from that morning, and plucked out a small roll of bread.

Careful not to startle the creature, she set the roll onto the table and pinched a few pieces off. "It's all yours, if you're hungry," she encouraged, pushing the morsels closer. Then she sank slowly into a chair, took a breath, and raised the precious parchment to her face once more.

She read out the words quietly to herself, still learning to grasp the finer points of the Common tongue. The beginning made her cheeks burn and she faltered more than once. It sounded like poetry written for desert princesses of ages long past, not a common traveler--and now humble squire--such as herself. But as she read on, her heart pooled into a puddle of fondness. Oh, how she had missed Kiter as well! Oriah had never felt so much affection for a horse. And a Tiedan at that, with legs powerful to knock her head off with one kick. She knew, of course, that Kiter would never harm her. The mare had a gentle soul, much like her rider. It was good to know the two were treating each other well amidst such a long, cold Winter.

At the last portion of the letter, Oriah hands trembled and she closed her eyes, squeezing them shut as she succumbed to an onslaught of yearning so powerful it left her dizzy with befuddlement. It felt like she was losing her mind. Was she losing her mind? She was tempted to lay blame on sorcery once more, but there were no spells on the plain parchment, only words. Five, brief sentences worth of words.

The most giddiness-inducing, mind scrambling, paralyzingly ardent words she had ever read. In any language.

Later, in the comforting confines of her bed, and when her emotions had more or less settled, she would read the letter dozens more times. Over and over until her eyes could no longer stay open. But for the moment, Oriah was unable to do anything more than rest her cheeks against her knees, hands still holding the edges of the parchment. She was silent for a while, motionless. A chime or two passed before the unruly mass of her hair shifted and she peered up at the raven, eyes brighter than usual. The fabric around her knees was damp, but she paid it no mind as something nagged at her consciousness.

"A reply," she whispered in a hoarse voice, setting the letter down flat on the table. Then her voice grew in strength as the urgency of the situation dawned on her. "I have to write a reply. And I must send it right away!"

Oriah scrambled to find parchment and ink from a small nightstand beside her bed. When she returned, her expression was more than a little delirious as she confronted the messenger, having all but forgotten to treat it as a bird and speaking to it as though it were perfectly normal to be conversing with a raven, alone, in the middle of one's room.

"Do you think you could deliver a message to Squire Corvis for me, oh brave little messenger?"

[Marrick Corvis]

Inside his little blackened feathered form the Kelvic struggled with himself. He found he over thought far too often, and worried far too much what people might think of him. Yet at the same time, he was ashamed of what he was. The city of lies truly left him with a sense of overwhelming confusion as to his worth. However, Marricks feelings for Oriah were always in her best interests. Or so he told himself. Her reaction to the letter was more than the Kelvic could have hoped for. Pleased with himself the Kelvic shut his little pale blue eyes and tried to rest as much as he could. The trip had really taken it out of him. He felt almost as if he had walked the whole way which is foolish. There had been a headwind, but of course that meant he would have smooth sailing on the way back. A noise cut his exhausted distractions short as he opened his eyes to see Oriah rummaging through her pack for something. Before long she had produced a large breakfast roll and had torn little chunks of it off for him. He watched her with as admiring an eye as a bird could. It probably just came off as curious, but the dear Benshira had to be the kindest woman he had ever met. What a woman. For a moment he pecked at the bread and in a perfect mimickry of his words before he said “Thank-ence.” And picked up a small tuft of bread and wolfed it down with a couple well timed jerks of his neck. With wreckless abandon he snatched at the second tuft ravenously for he had not realized just how hungry he was. A transformation and a trip was a lot to ask. So he wasted no time working his way into the larger piece of roll that was left before him by the beautiful and kind hearted Benshira. Partway through his fifth or sixth nibble he took a moment to check on Oriah to see how she liked the letter. The scene that greeted his little pale eyes left him feeling confused. The shiver of her hands and the look of longing on her face made him turn his head ever so slightly. Did the woman actually have feelings for him? He watched her in her stillness for some time, and was only slightly startled at the sudden movement that she made. It made him jump slightly with a ruffle of feathers, only for him to gather himself and adjust to his calm and collected rest yet again. She looked exhausted, and Marrick wished he had time to come in the morning or even midday. She wanted him to carry an immediate reply, and for the briefest of moments he almost transformed there right in front of her. He wanted so badly, simply to become the man, and let her know she had no need to send him a letter. Though his hesitation made him realize this was something she needed to do. It brought her hope. What would his transformation do? When at last she asked if he would be willing to deliver a message, the answer was simple. For a moment he searched his repertoire of words he knew how to speak at last finding an appropriate word. “Yessum.” Came the oddly awkward voice of a woman, followed by “Most pleas-ed” in the voice of a man. Knowing he was going to have a long flight back he set to eating the rest of the roll and wondering, between the mouthfuls of delicious bread from Samantha’s Kitchens, what she was writing. The curiosity would likely drive him mad. When all the bread was down his gullet he set to preening himself to keep from spying on the Benshira as she wrote.

[Oriah]

Oriah's face split into a sunny smile at the messenger's answer. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed, then picked up the quill and dipped it hastily into the ink jar. "I'll try my best to write it quickly. This shan't take long."

Of course, such claims were easier made than done. The Benshira still felt rather clumsy with written Common; she knew her spelling could not be anywhere near accurate, and the letters tended to look like those of a child's. Still, she was determined enough to try. If she didn't get this letter to him now, the newly recruited squire had no idea when the next chance would come.

It was now, or maybe never.

With a huff that sent tendrils of unruly hair flittering before her determined expression, she pressed the nib against blank parchment and began to write.

Dear...

The girl hesitated. Confusion turned into consternation.

Oh, for the love of Yahal. Did his name have one R, or two?

Oriah clutched at her head for a moment. She had the distinct feeling it was two, but began second guessing herself as she imagined how embarrassing it would be if the squire read her letter and the first thing he noticed was that she had spelled his name wrong. She avoided this problem the first time, thanks to brevity, but she wanted so very much to reply in kind. Marrick had began his letter with her name, clear and bold. She wanted to do the same.

An idea struck her. Eager hands whisked up Marrick's letter once more as she honed in on the very end. Ah hah! Why hadn't she thought of this before? There it was, in it's glorious entirety. His full name. Marrick Corvis.

"Problem solved," she beamed up at the raven, then commenced her slow, careful writing. A hint of a pink poked between pursed lips as she set to work again, head swiveling back and forth between his letter and hers once, twice, thrice. She checked one more time, just to make sure everything was absolutely correct. Satisfied, Oriah proceeded to flesh out the rest of her message.

Dear Marrick, my...

The girl paused again, tapping the feathery end of the quill against her chin. There were many things she could call him in Shiber. Kuleb, a rare, precious fruit with juices so sweet it was worth more than her whole tent combined; Afwan, a gift given in gratitude to friends you wish no repayment from; Lomin, the flicker of flame-red in the distance right before Syna sets, most reverent moment in a Tent dweller's day.

But in Common...well, there were only so many things she could even hope to spell.

"What would he be...?" Oriah muttered to herself, thinking aloud in Common, as if that might aid in her quest for an answer. Mithryn...Kiter...a handful of oats... Her mind trailed farther and farther back, caught in a wave of nostalgia. Watching him ride for the first time...waking up to find him gone and overhearing his tragic story...drinking and dancing in the Rearing Stallion...

She propped a cheek on one hand and sighed. Perhaps, if her diction weren't so limited, she would be having an easier time. Alas, the dancer-turned-squire had to settle for what she could manage at the moment. Dipping the quill in the well once more, she began to write for the third time.

Dear Marrick, my noble, brave, and hungry squire...

Fortunately, her new additions were all words she had learned during her stay in the city. With the exception of hungry, of course. That one, she had always known. Having finished the introduction, the rest came much easier, flowing faster from her nib as her thoughts grew clearer. Often, she would even cross check with Marrick's letter, to make sure she had spelled most of the words correctly. It was rather fun, she had to admit. The desert bred Benshira could almost fancy herself a scholar of sorts.

I feel very much the same. Sometimes I wish the wings on my back were real, and I could fly to come see you, just like our pretty messinger. You flater me to compair me to our beloved Syna. Now that I think about it, you are not unlike Leth, with skin moon pale and hair as black as the night sky. A light in the shadows for those who are lost. You cary dark things, but shine in spite of them. And how can you not, with a heart so gentil and true?

I am happy to know you are learning how protect both you and Kiter. Oh, how I miss her too! You must give her a big, big kiss for me. And tell her I will be visiting soon...

The quill went still for a moment. Oriah could feel her heart hammering against her chest. It was time to put to words the news she had been harboring for the past ten or so days, news that would forever change the course of her life. Seeing no point in wasting more precious chimes, the girl went straight for the kill.

I have some incredibull news to share with you, Marrick. While you were gone, I married a Drykas and gave birth to a son! I decided to name him Bangor.

She cracked a grin, and then amended,

I jest. In truth, I have been thinking much on my path in life. And in your absince, I realized many things. Not long ago, I went to seek Ser Erik about knighthood. Now, I am to meet Sera Mora in two days time, as her new squire! My patron is a knight of the green company, which means we will no longer be so far and I can come visit both you and Kiter more often. But I herd she spends many of her days in the forest, which means I will, too. Worry not, I shall find a way to see you two soon.

I fear I have written too much already, and our brave messinger has many more miles to travel. I miss you as well, Marrick, more than words can discribe. Hope to see you soon.

Your fellow squire,
Oriah

P.S. I think I am getting better at Common

Wiping her brow in relief, Oriah carefully placed the quill down and stared at her handiwork. She refused to reread it, for fear of finding too many mistakes or last tick changes she could not afford. Instead, she let it dry for a chime or two, then folded it to fit within the silver cylinder. Placing the cap on to seal it off, the former dancer held the container to her chest and whispered a small prayer of thanks.

"Well, here it is," she sighed, placing the cylinder with a gentle clink before the raven. "You have my eternal gratitude, oh courageous messenger."

[Marrick Corvis]

With the occasional click of Marrick’s beak, he halted the primp of his feathers to observe Oriah. Deep down he knew he was no good at being patient, or at being particularly uninquisitive. He wanted to see everything the world had to offer and before he died at that. For some that might not have seemed an unambitious goal. But as a Kelvic, the order was high. As he watched her quill make inky scratches at the parchment he found himself admiring her. In his own mind he caught himself wondering if he was obsessing or if it was something more. Who was Oriah to him? Was she more than just a friend? Did he want more? Silently within him he felt the stirrings of his heart as it sunk into his belly. He wanted more, but what of such a relationship? Almost like looking through a window in his mind, he watched Oriah as she tiredly ran her fingers through her beautiful tussled hair. He realized even if the two of them did fall in love, got married, had children, he would likely die long before she grew gray hair on her pretty head. And then any children they might have. They would be Kelvic. So even if the two of them had children they would also likely die before her walk even began to slouch. For a moment his long bill dipped low as he cast his gaze to the table just above the parchment she wrote upon. He felt the most overwhelming shame, the most distinct guilt. Yet somewhere in his heart he vainly built twigs of hope upon a dying pyre. He wanted her to be his Bondmate. He wanted to be her Bondmate. He wanted a kindly soul to sate his nature, and make him feel at last whole. But how could he put her through something like that. He shook the struggling thoughts from his mind as he looked up again to see that she was alright, as the scratches of her parchment had ceased. She then exclaimed a solution to some inner quandary she had been struggling with, and beamed at him. All ideas of inability and frailty left him as he stared at her with his little pale blue eyes. He loved that smile. It always seemed to be able to melt the melancholy that crept into his heart. Then with a curious energy she scrawled her letter to him. His inquisitiveness pawed at the door of his mind like a hungry hound. He desperately wanted to see what she was saying, yet for his secret to remain hidden and her doom to be prevented he had to maintain his cover as a messenger bird and not a Kelvic. Then with a quick scrawl of her signature, a bit of salt, a huff of breath and some time to dry she had rolled up the new letter and slipped it into the cylinder he had brought her. Readying himself, he stood up on his little clawed feet and adjusted his flight feathers giving one final quick preening, before he hopped onto the prepared cylinder as she presented it to him. With her words of courage, and gratitude he grasped the cylinder in his talons and found himself thinking back again. ‘Oriah, meh darlin lady.’ He thought privately to himself as she prepared to open the window for him. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to let it slip. He wanted to throw away the cylinder, change and be there for her. But that would not be. It would never be, or so the crueler side of his mind called to him. Reminding him of his failings. When the window was drawn open he flew to the sill and paused, taking one last look of her before he took flight. His little pale eyes glinted in the light of the lamps, as he fixed his eyes on hers. He opened his beak as if to speak, and thought better of it. Then with a spark of hope warming the center of the pyre in his mind he croaked. “See yeh soon.” The sound of his own voice speaking his own words startled him so perfectly that he stood their frozen for a moment that drew out like a blade. As the gravity of what he had just done struck home he quickly lifted his wings and took flight. Desperate to put distance between himself and the window where his obsession would be watching him leave.

[Oriah]

Oriah moved with weary limbs and a lifted heart, knowing Marrick would receive the news now and, perhaps, even be able to arrange a visit. She hadn't the faintest idea what her patron had in store for her, only that they would be spending much time learning of the forest. A few of the other knights assured her, however, that there would still be plenty of days spent within the outpost itself, training with various equipment and testing one's skills against other squires.

The fresh recruit was glad to know this. It meant that not only would they be able to see each other much more often, it also meant they'd be able to train with one another as well. A blessing all on it's own, that was. And, for some reason, it made her heart soar with joy. The girl attributed this to their merry friendship, though somewhere in the depths of her soul she knew otherwise.

"I'm sorry to see you go," she smiled to the raven as she opened the windows once more. "May Yahal watch over you on your journey, little one."

The messenger looked back at her--in the truest sense of the word as its strange gaze locked with hers--and, for a moment, Oriah felt the oddest sensation. It was as though the bird was thinking, feeling. A pained expression filled its eyes, which quickly transformed into one of warmth. The girl shook her head, thinking it was some trick of the light.

But then she heard it. Marrick's voice, loud and clear, coming straight from the messenger's beak.

"See yeh soon."

Oriah gasped, her heart lurching in surprise and agonizing hopefulness. But then the raven was gone, leaving her to watch its hurried flight from her sill, mind and soul awash with cryptic emotions.

"See you soon," she whispered back.

[Radiant]

Marrick :

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Observation	+2 XP
Literature	+1 XP
Socialization	+1 XP
Rhetoric	+1 XP

Lores

Lore Earned

Poem: Sands In The Distant Deserts

Imitating Human Speech In Raven Form

Oriah: Have Feelings For Me

Loots

Oriah :

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Observation	+2 XP
Reading	+1 XP
Writing	+2 XP
Literature	+1 XP
Socialization	+1 XP
Rhetoric	+1 XP

Lores

Lore Earned

An Very Intelligent Messenger Black Raven

Marrick: Have Feelings For Me

Loots

Notes :

Awww, such a sweet thread! I wonder what would happen once Oriah finds out that the raven was actually Marrick?

Enjoy your grades!

My radiance is not bright enough?

If you have any questions or concerns regarding your grade, beam me a PM and we can work it out.