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Syllea skips into the Prancing Pony, expecting it to be any other day. Full of mischief, laughing, and maybe some writing. Seeing Demlemoth not in his usual spot by the stairs she set herself down there.
It had been some few days since everyone had returned to the Island of Tol Lochul, Addiela and her group from the Memorial for Septimal Caine and Xandilif and her group from Breeland and the quest for Catalinna.
Essie goes out exploring and sits underneath the stars, all the while, accompanying some frogs. A much softer side to this Watcher. Any fellow watchmen would likely tease her seeing this sight!
Pretender. That’s all he is. Or was. He can’t hold it back anymore. Not now. All the emotion from thousands of years ago came flooding back when they said her name. “Daehel.” It was a beautiful name that her mother gave her. But the name he gave her was more fitting. “Morien.” It was so like his father-name, Morimaite. And she was so much like him. She had his eyes, his hair colour, even his pallid skin-tone. She was the most precious thing to him.