The Fog Moves

[Volutional 935]

The Fog Moves

 

 

 

The day grew wet, damp. The air seemed short, and the eye seen less. The whiteness to the sky was grim, and blackened with rain clouds and the morn air seemed filled with a blanket of vision impairing moist.

 

Not by horse he did come. But on foot and from a pilgrimage to the far swamps of the world. It is from there that this hooded man came, cloaked and robed. Dressed for such weather. It was when the wind was sleeping and the sun was hiding, that he arrived in Malinor. When the once-gold leaves shone but now they wept.

 

The Druid walked slow and calm through the foggy morning. As if he could see through it. And to the Grove he did go. The fog was settled on the pathways and the illuminating lamps did just that. The fog glimmered in the shining of their flames. And it was then he removed his hood and walked into the Grove of Druids.

 

To his brethren he did go. And inside his feet led him.

 

Celthorn had returned from his pilgrimage.

[Fid 566]

Unseen by Celthorn, bright green eyes mark his return. They glimmer faintly, showing from the shadow of a dark red hood. As the Druid enters the Grove, they disappear in a shudder of orange and yellow leaves.

 

With a light noise and a flourish of crimson robes, the Elder Druid of Autumn slips down the trunk of tree in which he was perched and alights upon the soft grass. His attire is changed drastically from his days as Arch Druid, and his face is guarded with a mask of bone and wood. Smiling quietly to himself behind it, he brushes off his hands and pauses.

 

"I truly wonder which he shall choose." comes his voice, familiar to all who knew Gavin Cervidus. "I knew him well once. Then again, I knew many. The Equinox will survive either way."

 

With that statement, the crimson-cloaked Druid starts off gracefully, leaving only the smell of thyme behind. 

 

[Moot 1719]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.