Quest for the Lyre of Orphaeo

[Philomel]

Philomel's rose lips parted. She stared at the man before her, with deep hazel eyes, dressed in the usual garnments of a travelling man, bold and able to defend himself until the last breath left his mouth. A gentle wind picked up around the space between them, fluttering through the foliage and darting towards her, so the stray violet hairs at the front of her temples waved lazily. Still, however, she stared at the man, eyes narrowing slightly as she began to assess him.

Muscles. A strong jaw. Scars - the usual signs of an adventurist and warrior - peeked at the edges of his shirt and on his cheeks. There was a single dagger hilt poking out of his belt, but it was possible others were hidden. He looked with a slight smile, and it uneased Philomel slightly, for it was clear by the look of this individual that he could likely put up a good strong fight. The smile could be something malicious, hidden and deceptive, reeling her into a false sense of security before destroying all she held dear.

Yet. Yet - he hailed himself as, "Breaker." As the one name Drys' voice had just given her on the wind, and indeed he had just spoken the name of her beloved goddess. The great tree mother had told Philomel to trust this man. This was someone the faun-whore ought to respect.

Beside her Veridian crept forwards, his golden eyes glinting as he came from the shadows to fix Breaker with the same look. He took one glance at that handsome face, then sat back and gave his decision with a nod.

He is the one, he said.

Philomel took a quick breath in and stepped fowards, away from the tera'k who was now nosing some leaves, and from her precious companion. Beneath the soil she felt the presence of Delath the great earth beast snaking his way towards them. But she told him to bide his time for now, knowing he was likely not to be needed. SHe thrust a hand forwards, her expression remaining the same determined one, other palm resting on the hilt of one of her many daggers. Daggers, sword over her shoulder, Lover at her back, the crop Temptress at her other hip ...

"Call me Philomel," she told him. "Its what most call me. The Great Tree Mother told us to meet you here." She took a pause, then asked the question that had been loitering in her mind, the one she had somehow figured out. "You know of Drys?"

The man's smile seemed to grow, but it might have been a trick of the light playing on his facial scars.

"I know of Survani," he said in the same warm voice.

Philomel took a moment to think, then nodded. Survani was a desert goddess, a minor one also by all accounts, but on equal standing to Drys. Legend said she was also a creator of beings, and had a holy place somewhere in Fallien. Sand was her soil, oases were her clearings.

He shook her hand, solidly and briefly.

"This is Veridian, my companion," she gestured to the fox-form earth spirit beside her, "he is an earth spirit, a true child of my goddess. The lumbering thing there is my tera'k and beneath us rolls Delath."