A Snowy Meeting

Sesselyne , a particularly diminutive figure, cowled in a cloak the shade of holly, lushious green dusting across the snowy grass, though not even a crunch of the frosted blades gives her movements away. The cloak edges were kissed with the bright red of berries, embroided with swirls of gold. Even if the shades were muted under a light dusting of snow, they still hid everything else about the figure, face turned out to the frozen lake, a laughter, a feminine laughter, breaking the Winter Wonderland as ducks to to skate across the surface and collide.

[Sesselyne ] *try to

[Tandrall ] Against the sweep of green tipped with the faintest hint of white, a lone figure can be seen moving, shuffling, wrapped in a thick cloak of the richest brown trimmed with white, a decorative blonde rope securing the garment at the figure's waist. The hood is down, and for a good reason as those large ram's horns atop the man's head would hardly fit beneath such a hood. But why would the man have cause to hide them anyway? They were one of his best features, after all. He stops abruptly, looking around a moment before spotting another figure against the wintery backdrop some distance away. He tilts his head to one side, appraising her from afar. She must be worth his time, however, as he quickly begins to approach, his legs as yet unseen beneath the long folds of the cloak ...

Sesselyne seems enrapt in the play of the ducks, and other fowl on the iced lake, looking so much like grey polished glass as to reflect her face back to her, with only the slight distortion of the veined ice to give her an alien look, something just not right with the face looking back. Fingers pull from deep pockets, only to show as pale as the snow, and yet tinted colder, a slightly silver-blue hue to the tiny fingers that taper to rounded nails as she reaches to pull down the rich cloak hood and let hair free to the day, a cloudlike billow of white smoke, trying to find gold within itself, but failing for all but when weak sun finds the courage to touch the ethereal figure stood so still by the lake edge.

Tandrall watches the girl with keen interest now ... or is she really so young? Appearances can be deceiving. Now how to make his appearance. He stops some small distance away from the pond now, squatting in place and bringing his hands cupped over his mouth. At length, a sound very much like a duck would sound forth from him. " Quack quack quack quack quack ..." Almost all at once, he seems to get the ducks' attention as they crane their heads on narrow necks in the man's direction, curious to see what one of their own kind is so intent on telling them.

Sesselyne startles a little at the unexpected noise so close, sipping on her heels with a dexterity surprising to her former stillness, small she may be, but that lightening strike alacrity that now has huge, slanted eyes fixed upon his cloaked figure. Eyes so large, so full as to appear like the weak blue sky had been tipped and poured to be kept safe in her gaze, a gaze that is alight with curiousity rather than fear. Features are obvious to one who knows the exotic races of the realm, delicate featured, childlike with wonder, ears peaking though creamy reams of hair, fingers though closed over each other at her waist "Are you friend, or be you foe...Speak so I may know." Lyrical, dulcet, nothing of the childish appearance in a voice that rings soft with an almost sultry spice.

Tandrall brings his hands away from his face, turning his horned head now to look back at her, teeth showing in a friendly and admiring smile. That same mouth opens, letting forth a light yet hearty laugh. Such richness can be seen in his eyes, brown born from the stoutest oak in the deepest wood. "Friend I am, to friends in kind. Treat me well, and this you'll find," he answers, playing right along with the girl's game of words. "Devil horns and angel tongue, legs that wander far and long. Why is it you speak in song?"

Sesselyne 's silverbound brows quirk in surprise, liquid skies of eyes warming to summer breezes that his words bequeath, her own laugh softer, as wisping as a breeze through young trees yet deeper within the laugh is the rough rumble of maturity that flows like rich sap from tree bark. A moment, a pause, the tiny woman barely topping 5 foot, even in the stout boots that peek from her cloak "While there is a song, nothing in life can be so wrong. A friend you say, a friend I will welcome today" The impish light of humour still frollicks on her pale face "Why is it, oh horned man from the wood, that you replied to my game so swift, many try and few can, but you did, and so surely could. I welcome thee, to this the garden of winters touch."

Tandrall continues to gaze at Sesselyne, as if allured and transfixed beyond his control. Where her voice is light and soft, his is deep, robust, and highly musical. He wags a finger at the fair lass now. "Ahh, ah! Beware the siren's song, for beauty though it brings ... the men that hear, they disappear, as prey for fouler things." A warning clearly spoken ... and a recognition that rhyme should not be the sole judge of trust in a stranger. But a smile is given nonetheless, his hand now waving its fingers through the cold air before him as he continues. "My tongue is silver-swift, you see, and music echoes through my bones. Since my birth, I've lived in tones, learned to laugh and follow dreams. But you ... you follow ducks, it seems." At this last, he gives Sesselyne a most curious look, raising an eyebrow at her and wondering what would bring her out to such a place in so cold of weather. Truly there were more comfortable places.

Sesselyne , though childlike in her curiosity of his face, eyes playing as children on a climbing frame over the surl of his horns, and down to his eyes again, the smile never daring to waver, her own hands, tiny and delicate held to him , pales up to the sky and just as open as he snow heavy heavens "There is no siren within this pond, and if there was icebound is she, trapped in depths deep beyond." A gesture to the thick ice. The woman child doesn't seem cold in the slightest, her cheeks warmed to twinned blushes across blue tinted delicacy, a doll surely and not a living woman to look so fragile and yet, so vital at once "There is only cold here if you give it home, a warm heart doth warm hands keep, even if I were to lay here down to sleep with ducks company I chose to keep, for they know not of the lies of man, as honest as we only hope can." Her smile as trusting as her tone, a nymph who knew nothing of pain, so it would seem.

Tandrall gives forth a hearty laugh, tossing his head back and shaking his head, smiling all the while. Eventually his eyes settle back upon her, seeming to be quite impressed with this young woman. "Well done," he says, bringing his hands together to applaud her, apparently finished with this game for now. "Very well done." Another happy chuckle as he crouches, slowly settling back into a seated position, both knees bent with one sticking up beneath the cloak. As he sits, the cloak's edge is drawn back just enough to reveal the ends of his powerful and hairy legs, ending in glossy black hooves wet from passing over the snowy field. "You are well met this brisk winter day. So rarely do I find so pleasant of company in my travels, especially one with an eye for nature's beauty and a poet's talent." He continues to study her now, feeling very much at ease in her presence ... and indeed the feeling should be mutual.

Sesselyne seems indeed relaxed, his laughter met with her own, and a chorus of dischordant quacks from the lake, the fowl choir seeming set to serenade, or perhaps just join in the chorus of laughter "To you likewise, Sire, charming, simply charming" She seems not surprised, nor afeared at the legs displayed, though the curiousity in her eyes is painted like a bright banner, her lust for knowledge as tangible as the cold was to one just risen from a warm bed. "And so rarely do my companions and I get met with such playful rhetoric, and honest friendliness. May I be so bold, and bold I must be, to enquire what name is blessed with such an owner?" The Elvenmaiden makingt to sit with him, on the snow banked ground, her cloak beneath, the fur collared edges of pathwork pants soon seen, cupping toned, long for her height legs. "I myself answer to Sesselyne."

Tandrall humms pleasantly, his eyes closing slightly as his chin raises, shaking his head to the winter sky. "Sesselyne," he repeats, letting the name roll off his tongue with decadence. "A fair name for a fairer maiden." His smile returns to her now, his gaze hooded beneath those dreamy lids. "And I would much sooner have you call me Tandrall than sire ," he explains, making a slight face at the last. "Far too formal for my tastes. I am but a simple wanderer of the wilds with a flair for the dramatic, and a passion for ... the finer things in life." His look is proud as he relates this, showing no shame in his chosen lifestyle. With natural ease now, he gestures to the ducks sprawled out across the pond. "And your friends?" he inquires, only halfway joking.

Sesselyne looks to the pretty little flock of ducks, each pair of shining coal eyes looking back at them, as if aware of the conversations turn "The names they have, have no perchase on the common tongue and indeed, care not for names." Another chorus of quacks breaks the peacibility of the morning, the small flock taking to the wing, smiling eyes watching them rise "And, I am pleased to meet you, Tandrall. Though, simple is not a word I would use to apply to you, from what little you have shown, Satyr's rarely are."

Tandrall chuckles at the woman's wisdom, nodding. "Of course, of course." In spite how silly it must look, he waves to the flock as the ducks rise and depart, perhaps for warmer climes. "I must admit, at first I was worried about one such as yourself out here in this chill," he explains with some concern, watching the feathered group soar up and away. "But now I must confess, I fear for those poor ducks! Perhaps they have forgotten which way is south, to still be here in winter's grip?" He shakes his head at the matter, though. South is instinct to ducks, as mirth and nature is to him. "And I assure you, madam, the pleasure is mine." Another broad smile as he seems to have been accepted for what he is by this stranger. Not all are so understanding of the ways of the wilds.

Sesselyne 's glance back from the snowy skies is full of simple understanding, her words as natural as if they made sense "They reside with me. They have no need for warmer climbs." Her smile strong as the flock circle and swoop. "Sesselyne, Madam is certainly not who I am, nore ever would wish to be."

Tandrall nods intelligently. "I can understand," he agrees. "I too would be warm on the coldest of nights if I were fortunate enough to have a woman such as yourself in my company." He gazes upon her in true admiration. "Your respect for nature clearly shows, as does your appreciation for its beauty in any season. Not to mention your gift with words and warm demeanor. But," he continues, sounding a bit confused, "if not a madam, then who is it you wish to be?"

Sesselyne 's shoulders rise and fall again, as gentle as a downy blanket at night "Myself...Who else would there be?" A blush, staining across her cheeks as the first blooms of spring "Such words will turn my head, Tandrall, and there whose eyes would there be to watch the needy birds and bees?"

[Sesselyne ] *then

Tandrall leans ever so slightly towards the woman, finding that he is enjoying her presense more and more with each passing minute. If she were not warm before, she certainly seems to be warming up to Tandrall just fine. "We certainly mustn't neglect our duties, to be sure," he agrees dutifully, nodding once. But a slow and sly smile creeps over his face after a moment. "But where our eyes cannot fall, mother nature watches all. The birds and bees have known their way since sunrise on the first of days. Surely there is time enough to turn our eyes to finer ..." Tandrall thinks quickly, having worked his way into a rather awkward rhyme. "Stuff?" An awkward grin is given to the woman beside him. Certainly not the most beautiful poetry he's concocted, but perhaps it would do.

Sesselyne 's blushing furhter, the young maiden leaning back, just a fraction, out of a demureness that casts her eyes to the polished lake, and sets the blush on her cheeks deeper "And what to the eyes of yourself, do finer things entail? If not for words of rhyme and nature's whiles, what else is there in the world?" She's smiling at his lame end of phrase, a charm all of it's own.

Tandrall lets forth a deep and throaty humm, almost a purr, his eyes half closed in bliss. "For the time, my eyes seem to have settled upon you, it would seem," he tells her in his deep, honey-laden tone. "For though you possess the fairer qualities of speech and nature alike, you have a charm that is all your own. A grace and light of warmth about you that has lured me to your pleasant company." A thought plays over his face. "But in truth, aren't the joys of conversation and the bounty of nature enough for anyone? Surely they serve you well enough, speaking for nature as you do. What, beyond that, would a woman such as yourself desire?"

Sesselyne thinks on the words, with cheeks as red as rose petals, and eyes wider than the widest skies, blue all the way to the horizon "Your words are flattering, designed as such one would warrent, for what girl would not have her head turned by such praise of her nature? Even one as settled as I." Indeed, she was settled on her cloak, the sprite of an elf clad only in patchwork pants and now visible, a bodice tooled of leather and boned with anters. "A woman as myself has little desires, for desires are things we want but do not have, and there is nothing I cannot acheive should that I wish it..."

Tandrall folds his hands over his bent knee as he sits upon the snowy ground beside the frozen lake, choosing to rest his head upon them now, a curious and amused expression on his face as he studies Sesselyne more closely. "Oh, really?" he inquires, tone and inflection dropping at the end of his question. "You are so content in your life that you are beyond any want or care in the world? Has there been nothing in this existence that has even remotely tempted you, yet somehow escaped your grasp?"