(LOG) Drysllthen and Jenova meet

(17:46) Djenova had been lurking deeper within the forest when Drysllthen and his cohort spread into her trees. A night away that wouldn't be noticed - one of her last without accusations of infidelity, if the future went right. So, she'd been stood in all her natural, cold-coloured glory in a clearing far larger than this one, breathing in the exhalations of her children as they descended into slumber for the winter. And then it came. Sleepy whispers. A warning on the breeze and some twitch against her senses that something red and coppery had hit the earth. She had turned from her reverie with several long, footless strides, the roots in the earth lifting to catch her knees. She crouched with the creaking of her artificial legs and touched her fingertips to the ground. Him. Mumbling like some lost, pathetic child at the ethos. So. The Red Beast wanted to talk. She twisted into the side of a tree, and vanished from her own clearing entirely. Shortly afterwards, the energy around Drysllthen would change entirely. Any creatures still left in the edges of this region scuttled forwards and fled it entirely, brushing past the King, mindless of whether he was a predator or not. It didn't matter. When animals ran from Jenova, they were all prey. The trees shifted without breeze, and the quiet seemed to be deafening. A moment later, roots emerged violently out of the earth several metres in front of Drysllthen, their tips reaching out upwards expectantly. She came out of the side of a nearby, old oak, extending her thighs outwards and settling the stumped ends into their cradles. She stood at around sixteen feet when she had her roots in place and her sexless, muscular, hairless body straight. Her hips were positioned a touch further forwards than her shoulders, and the broken, wooden mask-crown that had dwindled down to a single curve around the front quarter of the left side of her head and face was still present. Gold shimmered up her spine, forehead, hips and sides. Pale eyes shifted over his seated form and the hound he kept with him, her expression one akin to wolves' curiosity - full of teeth and question.

(18:14) Drysllthen's hair prickled at the unsubtle shift in the air around him, though unlike the suddenly whimpering pup in his lap, he made no sound. His head simply lifted, the King watching impassively as the last few living creatures stole away. It was coming. Though they were yards away, in that screaming silence, he swore he could hear the terrified breathing of his guards as he clamped a hand over the dog's muzzle to silence it. Roots shattered the calm, even Drysllthen startling when they crashed through the earth. Blue eyes widened as his heart thrummed violently, his red head tilting far back to take in the full sight that rose before him. Saliva dried in his mouth, and King torn between instinct to bow before the thing and draw his sword. His hands tightened into fists as the dog escaped him, slinking behind him where she cowered, trembling silently against his spine. Despite every inch of himself feeling frozen to the ground, he slowly, with hands splayed to show he meant no harm, rose to his knees. "I was not certain you would come," he rasped as he bowed deeply from the waist. "Thank you." Bent he remained, staring at the roots, fully aware that he might be giving his thanks for this thing making itself known to do to him as it had done to Sorynn.

(18:24) Djenova seemed to ignore Drysllthen, for the time being. She bent forwards a little, the roots creaking, until she could see the puppy behind him, and a root crawled out of the earth next to the King to lift in front of the dog's face. Not a very big root. A worm-sized root that extended itself outwards towards the muzzle of the very tiny, cowering creature. Others appeared and laid themselves over blood droplets, sucking in a taste she'd touched before. It vanished into them, and then they slid back beneath the earth. The tendril extended towards the puppy carried on reaching for its face, that dark curiosity not leaving Jenova's gold-flecked, androgynous features. What would the animal do? It clearly stayed for a reason. She wanted to know what that reason was.

(18:37) Drysllthen's eyes lifted as he fought the urge to hunch beneath the towering tree thing. Few loomed over him, and none such as this. From the corner of his eye, he followed that slender root around him, his head suddenly darting to the side as the others rustled over the circle he had laid. He straightened on his knees as a little terrified whine rose from the pup, but the King dared not take his eyes from the far more imposing creature. The dog sniffed at the encroaching vine, shuffling backward as its eyes rolled with fear, tail tucked, ears pinned back. Panicked, her gaze darted up to Drysllthen and back to the root. Lunging forward toward it, she yapped as if trying to frighten it off, teeth snapping though they carefully did not close on the tendril.

(18:44) Djenova's thigh quivered at the snap in much the same way as one would expect a beast to react - the question between furthering pursuit and attacking outright. When the snap didn't land down on the root, the muscle in said thigh relaxed, and she continued the press of the vine to directly put it onto the dog's nose. It slithered upwards, but didn't hurt it. Simply touched. She bent yet further until she was quite literally arched over the King whose title meant nothing to her, those ice-clear eyes watching the puppy intently. Apparently this was something important - at least to Jenova, even if it seemed pointless to Drysllthen. She had learned that men lied. They seemed to do one thing and did another, they said one thing and meant something different. Nowhere in nature's kingdom had she seen that trait before. The dog would not lie to her.

(18:56) Drysllthen knew better than to disrupt the forest ..what was it? This certainly was no spirit. More like a walking tree, and chillingly similar to the dream Roselynne had spoken of. Ignoring him gave opportunity, Drysllthen settling onto the ground with crossed legs as he watched, catching the twitch of her thigh at the dog's small aggression. At the first touch, it backed hard into Drysllthen, and the King's hand fell soothingly on its back as the root crawled onward. Save for trembling, the pup was frozen with fear, eyes crossing to try to see the thing that wriggled over its head while her ears burrowed backward. Frantic, her forepaws pushed hard into the dirt, claws burying into it. She shook with every breath, uncertainty painting her every twitch.

(19:06) Djenova's puppy-focused root stopped spreading after a moment, and then spread off into four separate tendrils that sank into its fur. Instead of instantly penetrating the animal's skin, they began rubbing. Not to get inside, not to hurt, entirely the opposite, as it happened; the roots actually seemed to be petting the small dog. It hadn't bitten her, and the mild show of aggression wasn't enough to trigger a response - it happened. Any animal responded to fear either by running or fighting, and usually there was first a warning. A warning wouldn't tip it. A bite would. After a good minute of stroking the animal, provided she remained unbitten, she straightened and the root vanished into the earth. Which left her free to examine the beast that had killed her children. He didn't look like much. She was sure she'd been mildly more impressed when she was his species. But out here, he really didn't look like much. She still said nothing. Regarded him in silence. The curiosity had gone. Now her expression might as well come with subtitles: 'I would like nothing more than to open your insides for the earth to swallow'.

(19:18) Drysllthen's breath caught for an instant, the King certain he was just about to see what exactly had happened to Sorynn even as his broad hand remained comforting on the little creature's back. The poor thing's tail twitched, tongue lolling out as she breathed hard, but it made no move to dissuade the vine other than its determined lean toward the King. It took several long moments for him to realize that the root was not curling about the pup, merely stroking, and he found himself staring in disbelief. Breathing returned almost to normal as the root slithered away, the dog wasting no time slinking into his lap to hide her head beneath his arm. Himself now under scrutiny, he lifted his head to regard her strange, unsettling face, curiousity beginning to rise in him. Her look tore through him, Drysllthen's lips parting for a moment before he finally spoke, cultured voice quiet and respectful. "What have I done?" True confusion mingled in his words, his blue eyes locked on her.

(19:27) Djenova, instead of answering him verbally, responded in an entirely different fashion. There was a flicker of rage on her face, and then one of her half flesh, half wooden hands extended in a claw in front of herself. The answer would appear in his mind. The images were simple. Men with axes. The repeated clap of metal hacking into wood. And at first it was a perfectly easy concept - they'd killed trees. That much was easy. But then it twisted. He began to see as she saw. The faces of the trees. The contortions in their expressions, the anguish on their faces. Each strike produced a splatter of thick, near black blood, and his hearing would be filled with the dying, agonised screams of each tree. He'd see their branches extend fingers and claw at the sky. He'd see their roots struggle to free themselves from the earth they'd been anchored in for centuries, and watch them flail in their own blood. He'd see the dead face of a flung battering ram, split in two from an axe and only half existant. The catapults were no longer simply catapults, but dismembered pieces jammed together to make an ugly, dripping Picasso painted in horror. The very young sapling that had been cut to spring the lever sported the face of a small child, the suffering he'd felt at his death still written over unmoving features. When she finally released him from his waking image, her voice finally filled the small glade with the unmistakable sound of a furious mother. They were my children.

(19:49) Drysllthen jerked the moment the images formed, the invasive touch causing a chill to course over him, skin prickling. Confusion deepened on his brow at the sight of men chopping down trees. All men used them, fuel, weap- Thoughts silenced, the King staring unblinkingly out into the forest as the vision enclosed his mind. "Oh my goddess," he breathed in Leugish as blood drained from his face. Ashen of countenance with his hands trembling upon the pup's back, he felt his lungs tighten, breath nearly squeezed from him as the scene played out. Even when her hold on the images loosened, he saw them still, imposed over the terrible face looming above him. For the longest time, he was unable to speak, unable to do anything but stare at the offense so unwittingly committed. "I didn't know," he whispered when he finally managed a breath, his head hung before her. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry." Emotion hung thick in his voice, regret, remorse ..trembling with the agony it must have been for her.

(19:57) Djenova's rage seemed to be tripped despite the apology, her arm extending and the lash of a whip wound with vines lashed against a nearby rock. You all know! Her reply thundered, perfectly audible to anyone still in the vicinity. They grow, they drink, they shed and renew. You all know they're alive, but you cut them up for your own use anyway. Because they don't speak to you, because their pain is silent, because there's no blood on your hands, you think it doesn't matter! Your houses are stuffed with plants that you trim to make appealing for you. You cut them to please your eyes. The whip lashed again, barely above Drysllthen's head, and her steps shifted with the further violent spewing of roots to catch her. Tell me, King of Savages, how would you like to be strung up between these trees, have me snip off your extremeties because I find them mildly displeasing, only feed you when I dictate you can be fed, with your limbs regrowing weekly? You know they live. It justdoesn't matter to you because they can't fight back. It has never mattered to your kind. You take and you only give if it will somehow aid your growth in future. You only help us grow when you intend to cut us apart - for machines, for war, for eating. You should all be brought to the very bottom of the food chain, and then we'll see how sorry your weak and cruel people are!

(20:21) Drysllthen's eyebrows rose nearly into her hairline as the vine snapped out, but the King listened intently. Her fury snapped him from his sorrow. Rather than jerk away from the lashing vine, he straightened to stare at her seething face, his hands resting heavily on the dog who tried to burrow further into his legs. "Everything has to eat, even you. Everything and everyone uses other beings for their own survival and comfort." He answered evenly. "That is the way of the world, which I'm certain you well know. Just as I know we men do foul things, wasteful things, and we take for granted the world around us." Calmness held in his voice, the King uncertain any answer would suffice in the situation.

(20:31) Djenova's snarl was positively feral at the response he gave her, and she whirled from her seething. No. She answered. Nature takes what it needs to survive. Only your species take for comfort. Wolves do not kill a deer to drape its fur in their dens to make the ground more comfortable. They kill to eat. A bird will never take living twigs for its nest, only those that have fallen. A rabbit will only ever hoard dead grass to keep its young warm. I understand well killing for survival. That's not what I accuse you or your people of. The whip retracted, furling into her side and melding with the rest of her. It was too tempting to kill him before he'd suffered. He had to suffer. Killing out of need, I understand. But you have murdered. You took what wasn't yours and maimed them over human trivialities. I have told you what you have done wrong. I have shown you the pain you have inflicted. Now you give me a reason not to bite that which has bitten me.

(20:53) Drysllthen's clear eyes held fast on the enraged creature, his voice mild when he spoke. "Because a war between you and my people will only serve to cause more suffering. If you bite again, we will bite back, and it will go 'round and round, with more deaths." He drew a deep breath, unwavering in his attention. "I am willing to attempt to make some ammends and though I doubt anything I can do will suffice, I will try. What I have done, men have done throughout history. If your quarrel is with me directly, then perhaps we can find a route." His fingers stroked slowly over the trembling pup in his lap. "I will speak with you and I will listen to you which is more than most my people will do. If fear takes hold, they will burn forests and tear them to the ground. I have no wish for that to happen."

(21:01) Djenova didn't seem particularly convinced by most of it - species rose and fell, dog ate dog, that was nature. There was one word that caught her, though. 'Burn'. Fire... She all but whispered, looking around at the children around her. Drysllthen would be subject to another brief flash of imagery, unsurprisingly that of trees howling to death mid-inferno and father oaks bending for their squealing fledgelings. It lasted barely a few seconds. Jenova was a beast by nature, an inkling of fear could offset her entire mood into fight or flight. And she'd only ever taken the latter once. Her thigh muscles started quivering simultaneously, and her roots had to repeatedly lunge out of the earth to catch nervous fidgeting. She looked oddly sad at that point - resignation, perhaps, that these people were never going to change. It kept her in two minds. War would mean suffering, but in the long run, would the earth be better without these fire-wielding monsters? She didn't want her children to burn. But neither did she want the earth enslaved to those-who-walk for the rest of its existence. They would bring fire... Again. They always bring fire. And axes. You can't change that. She descended into a peculiar crouch and covered her bald head with her hands, indecision flickering between hopelessness and the sadness of the sacrifice that would have to come to eradicate man.

(21:20) Drysllthen closed his eyes only to have the image sharpen in his mind. "I truly don't wish that," he breathed. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes, the twitching and uncertainty that suddenly gripped him just as threatening as her rage. It could turn easily, just like the pup in his lap. "Fire sweeping the land would destroy so many. It would be senseless. I don't deny there will always be fires and axes, but I can stop some. I can protect some. They will hear me." His voice urged her to listen, more confidence in it than the King could convince himself to feel. "I don't seek to destroy you." A touch of reverence crept through, breath tightening as he forced himself to look at her intently. It was a frightful beauty, blue and bark, like nothing he'd ever seen, his eyes creeping with wonder over this being that he had angered so.

(21:31) Djenova's mind was likely rather more like the puppy's than it was his, and the indecision didn't seem to go away. She straightened, but she carried on pacing. Her skin didn't seem to be made out of skin. Rather the same stuff as leaves were formed out of, in a different shape. The part of her that had been very barely touched by humanity reached out for Diana's knowledge - what his people said about him, most importantly what Kerrich had ever said or thought about him. Would that help? She loathed being in human skin so often. And she could well expose Diana and be separated from Kerrich forever. That thought seemed to make the twitching worse, continuous rolls of muscle flexing up through her stomach. She made a very small, distressed little sound that was nothing like a human noise, rather a small, birdlike trill. I am not human. She stated, as if it wasn't obvious. I can't talk to you on equal terms like this. There are... Things I don't understand. Complexities, trivialities, perspectives, importances that I can't comprehend. I can make it so that I can. But you must promise me something.

(21:41) Drysllthen simply watched her as she paced, the adrenaline rush beginning to settle such that he could consider her properly. Who else had ever seen a creature like this? Breathing settled into something more calm as his fingers traveled steadily down the pup's back, the little thing actually lifting its head to watch the tree pace. A little whimper rose from the creature at the distressed sound, the pup's big wet eyes following her too. Slowly, the King nodded when she spoke. "Of course, you live in a much different world," he remarked quietly. His head canted at mention of the promise and he nodded for her to continue. "What must I promise?" The exhale was nearly a sigh if relief, tension seeping in just the smallest threads from him.

(21:49) Djenova was still apprehensive of being at all exposive of her development thus far, how close she'd been to him before. You must promise not to expose her. She answered. Not say what she really is, to anyone. And you mustn't take her from what she loves. I will talk with you if you promise those things. That was really the important part. The worst thing wouldn't be being driven away from Kerrich - over time she'd return to being as she was before, and forget both love and the pain. But tearing her away from Kerrich would be painful for him, and he'd not recover so easily. It was all on the edge of being right for him, and ripping that away at the last minute could easily destroy a person. If she told him of her reality she'd do so on her own terms. If she was going to spare as many of her children as she could, she would have to talk with Drysllthen. And like this, she didn't stand a chance of agreeing on anything with him. The stakes seemed too high, her perspectives were too different - she saw everything from time and priorities worlds apart from the way he did.

(21:59) Drysllthen blinked at the request, his brow furrowing slightly as he nodded. "I will not reveal her," he agreed, fingers tightening upon the pup. "And I will not take her from what she loves so long as you do not take what I love from me." More terms wanted to drip from his lips, but that was the problem, she could not negotiate as she was, so he left it simply at that. His hands loosened on the dog who slipped quietly from his lap to venture closer to the tree, sniffing curiously as she wriggled. With his lap free, he brought his knees up, arms leaning heavily on them as he waited, his promise made.

(22:06) Djenova paused at that particular term - it made revealing herself ensure that if she couldn't accept the terms, she might well lose out. But that'd just have to be a casualty of war, if it came right down to it. Diana knew that. Jenova didn't really have the ability to discern what a casualty of war was. There was one last series of twitches, and then she turned to face the King properly. She slowly shrank down to a very meagre five feet six inches from her sixteen, and very slowly her skin began changing. First in texture. It turned to human skin. The only thing that didn't change were her features and eyes. The blue and gold faded and turned to a blinding shade of white, and her body lost a good portion of its androgyny. It narrowed, became willowy, remained athletic. The stomach was still muscular to the point of defined sinew, and the hips were barely distinguishable as a woman's. She grew breasts that made a small man's handful. A strip of bluish black developed at her crotch, and the same shade began to leak from her head into poker straight tresses. Her eyebrows drew themselves across her features. The roots let her down gently to touch bare feet to the leaf-littered earth, and there she stood in the middle of autumn. Lady Ice herself. She extended one manicured hand towards him. "Might I borrow your cloak, please, your Majesty?" Lady Wintermore enquired, the roots vanishing into the earth as though they'd never existed.

(22:15) Drysllthen observed the transformation in silence, a certain disorientation striking him when his focus dipped down from where her face had been before to the woman who would be a good foot shorter than him when he stood...which he did rather promptly before realization had even sunk in who she was, his fingers already at the tie of his cloak. Blue eyes nearly bulged from his head as he stared for the briefest moment, then they averted quickly. "Lady Wintermore," he coughed, extending the cloak to her with his eyes studiously off to the side. The world seemed to waver strangely, the shift from the tree-being to the fiance of his Chancellor one he never would have guessed. A deep breath rolled through him, a glance finally chancing to the side once she'd managed to settle the rather long and voluminous cloak over her shoulders. "I never would have guessed."

(22:26) Djenova[Diana] took the cloak and wrapped it around herself, a vaguely amused smile highlighting her cheekbones. "That's comforting," she answered. A root slid out of the earth and unfurled, the rather large chunk of a ring she habitually wore. She took it and slotted it onto the appropriate finger, and then the roots wound up again to form two chairs. She seated herself comfortably on hers, and gestured to the other. "Welcome to my parlour, Drysllthen," she murmured, not really feeling like titles now that he essentially knew she wasn't Lady Wintermore at all. "You'll have to forgive Jenova. She's a miraculous beast, certainly, but still a beast. It's likely we'll have more luck discussing this." The same being, but not - so separate in some ways and so linked in others. They saw one another quite differently, unable to fully comprehend the other.

(22:34) Drysllthen shook his head at the sight of the ring, knowing only too well for he'd seen it before Kerrich had given it to her. It took him a pace around the small clearing before he settled into the seat she offered, frequent glances darting over her as the stinging in his palm finally returned. Heavily, he sunk into the chair as he inclined his head graciously. "Thank you, La-..forgive me, what should I call you?" He interrupted himself with a wry twist of his lips. "And I suspect she's a great deal more to forgive me for, but I don't doubt you and I can discuss more easily. How.." His fingers twined together, indicating the pairing of them as he arched a brow at her. "I can't even begin to comprehend how you two are the same."

(22:39) Djenova leaned one elbow on the vine-made arm of her chair, the roots accomodating her spine at the most comfortable angle. "Diana will do fine," she answered. "Jenova and I are the same being in two bodies. We can't possibly be the same because being two different species gives us such different perspectives and capabilities. Living around humans has taught me to be more human and understand humans. When I am Jenova, I can't truly comprehend lies or humour. It's a shift in state of being rather than a shift in person." She lifted her arms and ran a nail down her skin, deep enough to cut it open, but no blood came. Instead, the insides were green, and made of tree-substances. She lifted it up to show him. "But then I am not really human, either. I simply look like one. I'm sort of the step between Jenova and humans."

(part 2 to follow)

(As promised)

(20:42) Drysllthen nodded with a murmur, "Diana, then." He silenced as she continued, his canine companion creeping about to sniff their feet, eventually curling up against his leg. "I see." It was quite the fight for him to overlay Diana with Jenova, the cool pale woman before him so far from bestial. As his fingertips pinched the bridge of his nose, he drew a deep breath, the following exhale clearing his lungs. Curiously, he peered at the arm she held out to him, his brow rising high as he glanced between her and the limb. Not squeamish by nature, there was still something about that green beneath flesh that sent a chill down his spine. "Something between," he echoed, his head shaking. "There are a thousand questions I desire to ask," he murmured quietly. "Like a child wanting to know why and how and what, but.." Drysllthen lifted his eyes to search her face, the only bit of her that still held the same creature he'd seen. "I suppose the one I need to know is whether you loathe us with same ferocity?"

(20:51) Diana Wintermore ran a finger down her skin to close up the green-exposing wound, leaning back in her root chair and pressing the tips of her fingers together. "What Jenova feels, I feel," she answered. "It occasionally works in reverse, but only temporarily. The difference is that I understand more. She doesn't understand why men take from the world, she doesn't see it as survival. She remembers when men crawled through forests and managed to survive without houses or castles - and equally she remembers when men fought without weapons. So, she'll forever question why there's the need for so much taking. She sees it as unnecessary. I... Can understand why men would have no desire to return to living in the dirt. And I can understand the intricacies of politics and the way humans have evolved since then. That doesn't mean that I like it in the slightest. In all honesty, I like very few of you. You have developed capabilities that are ugly - lying, killing without good reason, indulgent selfishness being only a few examples. Things that exist nowhere else in nature. But there's also the reverse, that I've seen what good there is in men, that there is some beauty in them. I would rather cultivate a healthy relationship between nature and man without wiping out either."

(21:06) Drysllthen's chin rested on his fingertips, elbows posted against his knees as he listened intently, every word weighed and measured carefully. Blue eyes never wavered, his head dipping with the occasional nod as he let her say what she would. It was so easy to forget he was dealing with the same creature, but he was certain the shift back would be just as easy. "I can begin to see how it would be difficult for her to comprehend. Her existence is so entirely removed from ours." He began in a low voice. "There is value in what we have, and I would be the first to admit that there is ugliness as well. Such a relationship as you speak of I am quite keen to pursue, but the question then becomes how? And is there blame laid on me beyond what there is on men in general? For her.." He paused, eyes darting over her face. "For your children?"

(21:13) Diana Wintermore nodded some to the question. "Yes," she answered. "There is more. We know other men did it, but you are the King - the Alpha makes decisions, and therefore he is accountable. Biting you personally was the entire point of creating Diana." She paused, and glanced at trees around them. "The problem Jenova faces is that she's no longer what she was," she explained. "You've already figured out she wants blood. She needs blood for the Rootcradle - it feeds the tree she is tied to. She calls him Beloved. It also feeds her, and the eldest of her children. And me. I can't stay like this without it - and I want to continue existing like this. Perhaps only for the next... Thirty, forty years or so, and then I'll go back to the forest. But for now, we both need to survive." She looked back to him shortly after. "You often fight wars. Karmenys at the moment. Wars produce an awful lot of spare blood."

(21:26) Drysllthen's hands spread in simple agreement on the fact. In that regard, he was responsible. "That is true, here at least." The revelation of the why of the woman before him drew a sharp glance over her, but he finally just offered a small nod. At least he knew now. "What was she before?" He mused quietly, but his head shook, hand passing to the side to indicate she need not answer it if she would rather not. "There's some strangeness in the fact that one of the actions she damns me for can bring her the very thing she needs." His hand rubbed over his jaw, sidelong glance wandering over her. "War does produce a great deal of blood, and Karmenys is far from the end of it. What are you suggesting? She follow along to the battlefields? And yourself?"

(21:34) Diana Wintermore shrugged her shoulders some. "She is resigned to the fact that men aren't about to degenerate," she answered. "If she can't change it, she might as well make it better and profitable for her. Though, that's my inflection - she doesn't particularly like it, she would rather simply go to war with you and tear down your castles." She settled her arms down on the chair. "She was your typical Dryad, once upon a time," she elaborated. "And a human girl before that. She was dying when Beloved was a sapling. The combination of her blood and his life made what's now Jenova." She mused over the latter part and spread her hands again. "We'd have to work those details out. You see, the one thing she wants is protection for her - for my - children. But the problem with asking you to seal off an expanse of the forest is that it'll take too long for the animal populace to come back. So we'll need something, some source that is external to the closed off parts. I'm suggesting that we come up with some reason for me to 'be away' so that Jenova can harvest your enemies' bodies. Blood, bones, clothing, whatever, she can use any of it for one thing or another. If it wouldn't dent your reputation too much, I'm sure she'd be quite happy to do the killing part herself. A weapon, if you like. I suppose that evens up the trade; you scratch our backs, and we'll scratch yours."

(21:47) Drysllthen's lips pursed as he contemplated her heavily, his head slightly tilted. "Your inflection .. and what's to say that when you are in that state of being that is Jenova, you won't revert to that preference? I can't imagine it's a simple thing to narrow her desires." Curiousity rather than suspicion hung in his words, his hands rolling together slowly, the King pressing the cloth binding into his left palm. "Not even Dryads have been seen here in a very long time. Of course, such beings live longer." Drawing himself back to the present, he nodded slowly at the request for protection. "It'd not be unusual to have a section set aside as the King's Forest where no hunting and no harvesting is allowed..that's simple enough, as for the collection.." He shrugged. "There are always reasons to leave. Visits to Wintermore, or I could send Lord Somneri to check on progress and you could make your argument to go with him, something different for each circumstance." Drysllthen actually smiled at the mention of her doing the killing, and it felt odd after so long held in seriousness. "It does, to a point, and I have no objection, so long as she doesn't leave bodies lying around like she did with Sorynn." His tonguetip touched his lips as he spoke the name, eyes closing for a moment. "But you say she uses it all, so I doubt that would be an issue." His lips quirked slightly. "An interesting weapon. Go up against King Drysllthen and the trees will turn against you."

(21:57) Diana Wintermore nodded some, the hint of a smile touching her features. "It might secure you just a litte more," she answered. "In forty years time you would be seventy-five. I don't know of many humans who live to seventy-five. When I leave for the forest it will likely be down to the next King to make his peace with Jenova - but keep in mind that she is a beast. If something works for her, if something protects the children, she won't damage it. She physically can't deceive you. It's not her you'd need to worry about not keeping her word. Nor me. I have a personal stake in her not making war on you. I don't ask for forty years for my sake, rather for his." She reasoned he'd ask if he didn't know who 'he' was. She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Let's say that you happened by some penmanship of mine, which, for the boasting record, is damn near perfect, and decided to employ me as your scribe and official document maker. It'd give me a reason to go with Kerrich just in case anything needs drawing up for when the war is over, and equally one for you and I to speak in close quarters without subjecting him to questions of fidelity or insecurities."

(22:12) Drysllthen inclined his head in faint agreement to that. "Which means, hopefully, that it will be down to my son. Forty years is agreeable to me, and doubtless, we can settle any difficulties in the arrangement. If it works, then he shan't have anything to worry about either, so long as he follows the treaties set down." His hand stroked along his close-cropped beard thoughfully, his head nodding at the inability to deceive. "For his sake then, and of course, I always have a number of scribes and clerks, but certainly putting you among their company seems to be a most sensible thing to do. And then such trips are easily excused, for it would be most logical to send a man with his wife rather than two unrelated individuals." Finally a chuckle rose with his easy agreement to the last. "And in that regard, you read my mind, Diana, for I shall need to speak to you on occasion without drawing down curiousity." His hands pressed together as he smiled faintly at her. "Do we have the beginnings of an arrangement, then?"

(22:19) Diana Wintermore nodded to the question, thinking that there might well be something workable in it. "I think we do," she answered. "Quite clearly, Kerrich doesn't know about my essentially being a plant, and I'd appreciate it if you left the possibility of ever divulging such down to me." Perhaps she would, one day, but for now she didn't particularly want to expose herself to him in that fashion - he was far too contented with being able to be married at last and go about normal life to ruin it for him. Perhaps he'd never know. She tilted her head some. "You had questions," she reminded him, apparently giving him the opportunity to expand on his knowledge base if there was some missing piece he wanted filling in.

(22:29) Drysllthen's more usual easy smile returned as he nodded, one hand slightly lifted. "I have no intention of telling him, Diana, nor do I think he would believe me anyway. No, that is certainly between you and Kerrich. I gave my word that I would keep your identity to myself, and I mean to keep it." He assured readily. "And I will chart out a region near here soon that will be untouchable. I suppose I should keep everyone out of it, for safety's sake.." He mused, contemplating the details. Flicking his hand, he waved it off with a smile for her prompting. "I confess I'm not even certain where to start. Some is merely curiousity over you and Jenova, for I.." Something boyish crept into hsi smile. "I'm utterly fascinated. Frightening as she is, I'm glad to have met Jenova. Her children .. there is a specific line that originates directly with her then? How many generations? Or does it not work that way?"

(22:35) Diana Wintermore's expression turned into that 'I'm thinking of a way to explain it' sort of face, and she took a moment to think it over. "There is a specific line of trees that all took in her blood in the beginning," she answered. "Their seeds are tied to her as grandchildren, and theirs as great-grandchildren, and so on - but its generally impossible to tell which are from which generation. So we call them all children. Some of them she planted herself if they fell too close to their parents, some of them have grown naturally. Beloved is... I suppose essentially in human terms Beloved is her mate. He is the father and she is the mother, there are many of his acorns that she has planted much further away from him. If a tree drinks of her blood then it becomes hers, which is why she's managed to spread so far. Her trees are... More aware than most trees. They have consciousness and thought - they get worried and sad come autumn when their leaves begin dropping, and need reassuring that sleep is welcome and that she'll wake them when it's time for new life. Perhaps come spring I'll bring you out here, and perhaps she'll let you listen to them singing. They call her Mother because most trees don't know who their parent-tree is, and she's the one who takes care of them."

(22:50) Drysllthen listened with all the intensity of a child hearing of how the plants grew for the first time..or at least with the intensity he had possessed over such things, nodding quickly long as she explained. "So there are many many which are hers. Will they all go to the haven I create?" His speech was picking up speed, the King's mind whirling. "Men will keep cutting and burning trees, growing plants. It shan't change, but I need to protect my people from her as much as she needs to protect her children." It came out in a burst, but the possibility of such in the spring shot a wide smile over his face. "I would truly love that, Diana, and mayhaps I could convince the two of you to allow Maeryn as well. She would adore it even more than me. I daresay she'd not even be frightened of Jenova." Drysllthen's brow furrowed faintly as he glanced up at her. "She gives her plants blood." Shaking his head, he continued, fingertips rolling together. "So she adopts them all in a sense. I'm glad they have the comfort she gives."

(22:56) Diana Wintermore shook her head at the first question and looked out at the trees, who were actually not paying much attention given their descent into slumber. "No," she answered, surprisingly emotively - she wasn't often emotive, but that kind of sadness didn't hide. "We won't be able to save or protect them all. She will likely lose around half of them, simply because they're rooted elsewhere. But she knows that when she takes care of them. Most animal mothers lose a good portion of their offspring, Jenova is no different. They will be cut or burned or taken apart and put back together all wrong, and she knows they will. They know they will. We all know they can't run from it. They live where they're born and there's no other option for them. That's why winter and autumn are so sad. They go to sleep and more often than not, when they wake up many of their friends are gone for firewood."

(23:09) Drysllthen glanced up with a sorrowful twist of his lips, almost stretching out his arm to squeeze her shoulder, but his hands stayed firmly to himself. "I see," he murmured. A deep sigh deflated him as his hands scrubbed through his hair, the King staring at the forest floor for a long time, only then realizing that his pup had fallen asleep with her head on his boot. He reached down to stroke her ear gently. "What an unsettling sort of knowledge that must be..but I suppose we too know death awaits at some point. Surely Jenova has had longer than most of us." Glancing over at her, he searched her face. "You said you were created to bite me. Now you have other reasons to stay, which I don't object to, but do I have to concern myself with that?"

(23:15) Diana Wintermore shook her head very faintly at the question. "No," she answered. "If you keep your side of things, I have no reason to - and at this point, if I did, I'd lose the other reason to stay. And that's an entirely unbearable concept." At least that part wasn't unreal. Her insides might be green and she might not be entirely human, but that particular attachment was quite genuine. "If I didn't have another reason to stay then I wouldn't, I'd go back to the forest now. If I did then I'd bear away the loss within a few days and lose any hint of humanity, and there'd only be Jenova left. But it's not my loss that concerns me." She turned her eyes back to him, having been gazing at the dozing children. "I can't leave him until his life is gone. And then being a beast will be a perfect anaesthetic. I only stay for him."

(23:25) Drysllthen nodded slowly, unable to keep his gaze from wandering her face intently, searching. "Then we are both bound to keep silent for our own reasons," he remarked quietly, eyes catching the realness of her affection. "Your loyalty does you credit, and I have no wish to cause Lord Somneri pain nor have myself bitten." He extended his right hand toward her, beckoning for her own. "I suspect any other questions I have can wait for another time. Is there anything further I should know or should do to make our arrangement work?" His brow arched, the King nodding for her to speak whatever might be necessary. "My silence, a haven for Jenova and her children, the ability to go along with fighting forces to collect bodies and take part in the killing in the exchange."

(23:30) Diana Wintermore didn't extend her hand for one very good reason - it wasn't an agreement with Diana. Not entirely. She was the subsidiary personality. So, she passed him the cloak back, and the entire mysterious transformation from Diana to Jenova began anew. The root chair lifted to take hold of her legs, and the mottling began as vague semblances of femininity melded back into the sexless muscularity of the forest-being she spoke on behalf of. The hair receeded, and the height returned until Diana no longer remained - only Jenova. Wood creaked at the knees as the far larger being lowered herself to as much his height as she could manage, and the half-flesh-ish half-wooden hand extended for his. Blue eyes remained entirely on his, the flickers of humanity dying like doused flame. We are agreed.

(23:37) Drysllthen averted his eyes politely when she handed the cloak back to him, quickly rising from his seat. The dog jumped to her feet to follow after him as he secured the cloak around his shoulders. A glance back showed the transformation well underway, the King allowing himself to watch in silence as the pup cowered behind his legs. Eyes followed her downward, and he silently extended his hand to hers, fingers dwarfed against hers. "We are agreed," he echoed, eyes unflinching, searching that strange woodling creature face. "Thank you, Jenova, for speaking with me. I hope your children slumber well and that you have good hunting." Eyes still on her, he offered a small respectful bow.

(23:42) Diana Wintermore straightened once he'd responded and turned, each long stride matched with far gentler root-emergence than there had been previously. Good health to your children. was her farewell of choice, one hand brushing against the belly of a tree as though she'd heard it mumble in its dozing. Soon enough, she was gone, and only the silence of sleeping trees and otherwise lifeless void remained. No doubt she was still out there, somewhere, settling her children to their long sleep with soundless murmurs and gentle touches. The hunt was off; Mother would not come home entirely, but they would have more time with her. And in the very long run of time, forty years was the blinking of an eyelid.