Busywork

Busywork

Postby Glenn » Wed Jan 10, 2018 1:52 am

Were it to arrive to her, wherever she might be in this world, the letter would be somewhat worn. It's bearer would be worn as well, with wild, dirty red hair, dirty enough from the road and her voyages to seem almost brown, but also some barely constrained sense of excitement or pride (it might be hard for the elf to determine which, for barely constrained was still constrained).

Jynoriel,

I write this to you on my way back to Myrken Wood after many, many months away. Had I expected to find you there in the short time I have allotted myself for this visit, I would not write you at all. In a sense, this message is but an excuse to subsidize the travel of the messenger, a small way of making amends for a small and indirect slight. I do not want you to think I belittle you in that regard. It is more that I am realistic about the chances of her finding you. I think it has been ten years since I last saw or even heard of you and while that may not be a great deal of time for you (more on this shortly), it is an eternity for us.

You are not the only one I write to as we camp or patronize shoddy inns that make us wish we were camping along the way. Again, do not take this as a slight for I have time and many words to spare. In some ways, however, you are uniquely suited for this discussion, for you fall along two lines, one essential and one an indulgence. I will document both in the paragraphs to come.

The first is that you are long-lived. Of all those who I have met that do not have a human (mortal?) lifespan, I wonder if you will not be the first to pass due to the risks and strain you put yourself under. Regardless of that, were the world peaceful and were you better at self-preservation, you would live for many, many more years than I or any of my peers. Of such beings, I am close to very few. I have made enemies of some, vanquished others, been brought down as often as I have vanquished, and have alienated some deeply. I find myself in need of another opinion along these lines, and yours is a voice experienced and weighty whose opinion I would appreciate.

The second is far more facile. Towards the end, and there was an end and it was worse than you might have been able to predict, I felt frustrated at every new arrival to Myrken Wood. Forces, natural and unnatural, changed me during my years in Myrkentown. For those who had witnessed it all, who could walk the path backwards to the beginning, there was understanding if not agreement. You are a different case. You saw the beginning but not the end. There are few others who I can say that about. Therefore, you offer me a different point of view of myself even as we may come to wrestle with larger questions about the nature of your people and mine.

Be kind to the messenger. She has been tasked with finding you, if possible, and to await a response. She'll answer questions you may have as well, though she has her own biases, I'm sure. There is much ground to cover and I would not burden you with any of it if you are unwilling. I wonder if, even after these years (many for me, few for you), you are able to refuse any burden which comes your way. If so, this will be a change from the woman I knew. If not, I do not intent to take advantage of that.

Glenn Burnie
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Re: Busywork

Postby Alyrra » Wed Jan 10, 2018 1:28 pm

* Jynoriel had greeted the girl and her letter gently enough. Though she had her issues with trust, she had never been one to turn another away. Offering shelter and food so that she might rest, she had even allowed her to spend the night in a more comfortable camp than she may have had access to in the months she had spent searching. Anyone who was persistent enough to have tracked down the cold sylvan fey deserved to be treated well, after all. The letter read while she settled in to eat a very sparse meal, the woman was quick to jot down an answer.

Dear Glenn,

How truly interesting to hear from you after so long. I am sorry to have disappeared when you needed me, but there were other things that needed my attention for a time. I had expected to be back long before now, but it is easy to get swept away. You could hardly slight me in writing me a letter, rather than to seek me out, and I take no offense to the idea that you wrote to others as well. That was never our relationship, and I would expect with you, that you know many far better and more closely than I.

I fear that I will not be as long lived as you seem to think, though I have surpassed one hundred summers at this point. My race, certainly, live as many years as they are healthy or unharmed, but that was never to be my fate. I will not bore you with semantics, but I fear I shall live most likely no longer than you yourself. ... Shorter perhaps, for the same reasons you mention. Ymir often commented on my ability to find trouble, and it certainly holds true even to this day. I am glad that my experience thus far makes you want for my opinions on things, however, and I will hardly deny you any advice or opinion you might need.

For all that you say that you would pose questions to me, there are none actually in this letter, however. Have you need of me in person? I had not intended to return to Myrken for some time, but I would gladly take the time to venture in that direction or any you might require should you need me. You need only ask. My tasks here are completed, and I could begin shortly enough.

I will give the girl a better address for finding me next time, and coin for her trouble as well. You need not worry about her care under my hands. For her to have found me without a place to really start, she is quite good at what she does. I will wait for your next correspondence with all the patience you think my remaining time would allow.

Care and peace,
Jynoriel Adilnes
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Re: Busywork

Postby Glenn » Fri Jan 12, 2018 7:07 am

The girl, more of a young woman, and maybe slightly less young than she'd once been (as Myrken was apt to do to the best and the worst indiscriminately), was pleasant, was eager, had questions, more weary than wary, despite crumbling but still extant ruins of enthusiasm. Her presence sped things up. She'd leave in the morning and return soon enough with another letter.

Jynoriel,

I am glad to hear that you live and that you are hearty and hale and whole, so much so as it seems you were when I knew you. Despite my confidence in your abilities, I do not think you could have staved off what ultimately came for myself in Myrken, nor, perhaps, what I caused. If anything, I would have tried to abuse your benevolence and your gifts. That is a best case eventuality, for at my lowest point (which was also the point where I held the most power as Governor), I was not in the least sane. I was, however, entirely focused on what I thought was in the best interest of Myrken. It was a dangerous combination.

At the end of it, at the height of her own madness and power, Rhaena was killed and thus Myrken was liberated to return to its old ways, all of them. She was not the cause of my infirmity, but instead a symptom of it. You may ask Mary if you wish to know more. I cannot promise that she will be comfortable enough to answer.

It is good to see Ymir's name mentioned. He would have been a formidable impediment to all that occurred. I would prefer not to travel down that imaginary road, however. There's little utility in it. In fact, I apologize directly for returning to it again and again. I am trying to move forward but there needs to be a bare minimum of ground covered.

You see, your letter feels like an indulgence, a shop of sweets after years of gruel. I mention it to amuse you, since I am sure few people have likened you as such, but also to warn you against my own potential for lapses. I am better, for the most part, but perhaps still a bit lost. I am as human as I have ever been and as such, all too inclined to traverse the easy path. I will try not to do that with you as I try not to do it with everyone and everything. In some ways, these letters are challenging because they make me deal with a version of myself that had been full of hope and possibilities.

That you will not live as long does not lessen what I might learn from you and with you. I would say it strengthens it, for you are an exception. Much of it is about the differences between your people and mine. I look for middle ground. I look for commonalities and to understand the differences. All people are not different. Nature does matter. A long life allows for more patience and security, not just over one generation but many. Brevity, on the other hand, can force ingenuity and growth. It can also close minds to what is different, to what is not necessary for sheer survival. Longevity can lead to complacency and malaise. You being raised in a society who knew the latter, but that have forced, through your personality and desires, the life of the former, actually helps in this intellectual questing.

I currently reside far south of Myrken in the capital city of Rasazan. Were you to travel here, I think you would find this city lacking, much as you find others as such. Does Myrken have need of you and your talents? Likely always. It seems to be a time between monsters and menaces right now, but much has been lost and rebuilding always occurs. Certainly, sending you letters would be an easier task if you were there. I could think of one or two people I would like you to meet were you there. I would not, however, induce you in that direction if you are not so inclined.

Thank you for your response. I await the point, soon I think, where we might get past this initial awkwardness and may speak again at length.

Glenn
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Re: Busywork

Postby Alyrra » Fri Jan 12, 2018 7:39 am

Once again, as before, the young woman would find herself welcomed by the sylvan elf, though that was hardly surprising. For a creature as cold as she could be, the ranger held a rather matronly heart. Making a messenger comfortable was hardly an inconvenience, for there had rarely been news of other lands for the woman. Either way, her response would be ready come the next morning so that the girl might set out once more on wearied feet.

Glenn,

I was not aware that there was any awkwardness in any of the initial letters. I apologize if I was mistaken. It is always nice to hear from someone from the past to hear that they are alive and well, or at least as well as can be expected. I am sorry to hear that you fell to such depths, but I have every faith that your strength will rally and find you all the better a man for your trials. That which does not kill us, after all...

I suppose speaking of such, I never truly told you much about my people. What I am, yes, but not the culture from which I sprung. I might tell it to you now, but it is hardly relevant, at any rate. I did indeed break from the yoke that my tribe raised me under, and I will never return, or be welcomed back. The past is to be a guide for who we can become, not for us to dwell upon. That road leads to madness. As I often said, "There is no such thing as what might have been." It is a thought that eased many a troubled night when I first found myself in difficult circumstances.

But I get carried away. You said in your first letter than you would seek counsel, or at least pose a question? I am all ears, as it were. You have very little to fear from me, for I never was a creature of fiery spirits or passions. I was, and always will be, the ice to my mate's fire. Though I daresay we both were never ones for showing needless emotion in public settings. If you worry that I will take your news or question poorly, you may rest assured that I will take the time to think well on things before I would ever act impulsively. I have done much in my own time that I am not proud of, but survival does not ask us easy questions sometimes.

I hope to hear from you again soon, though I do not think that I will head in the direction of Myrken just yet. I hope you are well where you reside currently.

Peace and care,
Jynoriel Adilnes
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Re: Busywork

Postby Glenn » Mon Jan 15, 2018 5:31 am

The young woman was becoming more comfortable in all of this. She had her pride and her toughness and a very Myrken resolve, but the questions behind all of it had been muted (as they were, in time, for many women in Myrken). Still, Jynoriel was a calming presence, and she seemed, at the delivery of the third letter, as if she was willing to come out of her shell a bit. There seemed questions on the tip of her tongue. They remained unasked as of yet, though.

Jynoriel,

I had questions for everyone. That was my nature in Myrken. It was a place of forgotten truths. Shortly before I arrived, the Meetinghouse burned and with it records. Much of the people who stoutly reside there are illiterate. Church records are dubious. Scribes often run off to more lucrative assignments in safer provinces, or they're just the first to get devoured by whatever newly emerged monster stalks the night (scribes are not the best at defending themselves, generally). When I arrived, the Governor was absent, the Councilors were scattered, the standing military, so much as it ever existed, was in flux. There were a thousand questions and few good people to answer them. As time went on, I was able to ask about the present so much as the past, and I was able to delve into those who remained. By then, you were gone.

I do have questions for you, key questions, ones that affect my current situation. I'm happy to give you context. I think, however, to best ask them and to best move forward in our correspondence, I should ask, of you, some of those questions I did not years ago, when I was more sharply concerned about the survival of myself and those I cared about (this very notion goes to the heart of my current philosophy, but we can get into that as we move forward as well).

Your past is relevant. I have others to compare it to, two that I currently correspond with whom you do not know. One is human, the other not at all. One would not return to her tribe, the other longs for it. For you to be inhuman (in classification, not qualified spirit) and not wishing to return would be helpful for comparison. As it goes, I am human and would not return, except for with a cleverness and razing fire that I have generally grown out of.

What I find remarkable is your optimism and calm. Serenity might well be the word, after a life with trouble and strife, and given the weight that you put on yourself every day (or that you did, at least, every day that I knew you). I would know of how you manage that as well. I wonder, to a degree, if that is a temperament of your people, an element of nature or if it is your conscious choice, as you have indicated. These are the sorts of questions I deal with in an attempt to understand myself and this world in which we live.

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Re: Busywork

Postby Alyrra » Tue Jan 30, 2018 8:19 am

The sylvan elf was as welcoming and attentive to the young woman as she had been from the start, seeming to notice little of her blossoming confidence. It mattered little to her how comfortable anyone was in her presence. She would treat them the same, no matter how kind or surly they might be. Questions were not discouraged, though they might not be answered directly, either. The woman had many secrets, after all. Time away from Myrken could not change that.

Glenn,

I am uncertain what part of my past you might find relevant to your current situation, but I will do my best to answer what questions you might have. So I suppose that I must answer the only true question you posed. My personality has not always reflected the attitude I have today, but I think that Ymir had a very large part in that. It is hard to see ourselves past the changes that occur on meeting a fellow soul that affects our own so deeply. The changes that came over me after meeting the Mul were certainly subtle and slow to take place, but I cannot deny that they remain to this day. Of course, that is not to say that he is responsible for all of the outer calm I show to the world around me.

My personality is not one wrought from the typical attitude that pervades the majority of my people. My tribe was aggressive and xenophobic. Often, their violence spilled onto their own kind. They are creatures who believe absolutely in the idea that only the strongest may survive. Any form of weakness is punishable by death, or exile, which is usually a death sentence in itself. I honestly do not know what made me the way that I am, but I would imagine it is a combination of a great many things over the course of a century.

If there is knowledge that I can impart upon you from all that time spent wandering, I suppose it is little more than the age old adage. "This too shall pass." Be it good or bad, the future will change the present.

I hope this letter finds you well,
Jynoriel Adilnes
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Re: Busywork

Postby Glenn » Fri Mar 09, 2018 5:05 am

Time passed. The season very slowly started to changed. Passes thawed.

In time, the young woman returned. This time, however, there was no letter. She was cold, she was wet, she was more than a bit impatient despite (and, in fact, due to) her enthusiastic nature. She would accept succor, would draw out the purpose for her return with talks of the weather and mild observations about the condition of the road and her travels, all at the most superficial letter, until finally she might be drawn to outright say it. Her Myrken accent was obvious. It was a farmgirl's accent, something that she could obscure back home, perhaps, but that was very clear now that she's gone so far afield. "This time, I'm the letter."

Jynoriel, for all of her patience, might have known annoyance at Glenn Burnie in the past. It wasn't the same sort of annoyance that others had mastered over the years, for he had not yet grown into what he would become, but this young woman was much more hesitant to show it at all. Still, he'd driven her to it as he drove so many others. "This is what he told me," she started. "I'm not sure what to write her at this point. There's value there something I know I need, but you're not exactly a raven, and I'm not going to send you if I don't understand the value, so you go off and figure it out. Stay until you do. Now, you have to understand Miss Adil..." Her voice faded for a moment and her slightly unkempt hair whipped to the left awkwardly. "He gave me the word but didn't tell me how to pronounce it. I don't think he knows either, but he refused to admit it. He never admits anything like that from what I've seen. He just left me to hang." The words came quickly but with a lingering hesitation, one that dangled right before them. She had a fast mind and a fast mouth but still needed to make sure her sentences were properly constructed. Old habits died hard and only with great effort.

"He doesn't tell me a whole lot either, so it's hard to know what he wants. People got hurt," she added, and this with just a bit of softening. "My friends, his friends, good people. Some of them never got better. I'm doing this for him, but mainly, it's for me, in that I wouldn't get to do it at all without him. So now I'm here to try your patience and mine, but that's a small price to pay for me to be here at all, for me. I am sorry for it though. If you wanted me to leave now, I could, and I'd tell him that, and he'd be irritating about it, like it was what he was expecting or wanted in the first place. I'd rather you didn't though. I'd rather we talk instead. Is that okay?" She didn't look exactly hopeful, even as she tried to present herself as someone with worth or value, with something to offer.
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Re: Busywork

Postby Alyrra » Tue Mar 20, 2018 1:19 pm

The girl would be welcomed back, this time to a new camp as the woman was often moving. She had little reason to stay in one place for extended periods of time, unlike in the past. For all that the sylvan woman could be compulsive, she had proven patient in the past, and that much had not changed. Idle chatter was not one of her strengths, but she had taken the time to learn it in over a century of life.

Still, with the farm girl's words, she would receive little more than a tilt of the mercenary's head in contemplation. It would take a moment before she was gently offering the pronunciation of her last name, "Ah-dill-ness." It was simple, at best, though very likely not her true name. There was very little about the woman's past and original ways that had survived to flourish into her present, including old titles and names. Chilled, gloved hands clasp before her as she demonstrates her patience, though it does nothing to pierce the confusion that she feels at the words offered her. Finally, she would give the only response that she could muster.

"If I am to be completely honest, I have absolutely no idea what you mean, or are talking about," the mercenary admits. None of the words that the girl had offered her shone light on the reason for Glenn's letters, or the lack of one in this. "Does he have a question to ask of me? Am I supposed to be deciding something here? I am sorry that people were hurt, but I do not see in what way I could possibly help unless he is wishing for some sort of justice or vengeance and wishes to bring me into the plan. Nothing in his letters has been enlightening, and though he said that it was originally with the purpose of asking a question, he has asked none. I am not usually a creature to 'beat around the bush', as it were. What does he want? And what could possibly make him so reluctant to get to the point?"

They were not terse words, or impatient. The elf did not honestly care enough about the topic to have much of an emotional response to it. If the man wished to be vague, then she was far more likely to lose interest than to feel any sort of anxiety about it. Still, she is pleasant enough, offering a faint smile that reveals only barely elongated canines. It was an expression that told far too easily just how little the entire situation bothered her, be it for good or ill. She had other things to occupy her time than to dance around and around a subject rather than get to the heart of the matter. Let Glenn play his games, and she would be waiting and willing to give an answer when he decided to ask it of her. Until then, she could be kind to his poor messenger.
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Re: Busywork

Postby Glenn » Fri Mar 23, 2018 5:40 am

"Ah-dill-ness, right." The redhead worked her way through the syllables, which weren't all that hard to begin with. How many had Jynoriel met in Myrken or elsewhere that would ask for a name, hear the name, and then butcher it anyway, as if they had shut their brain off after the monumental task of just asking for something. Whatever this young woman might be, she wasn't that. Obviously, her words were not entirely precise, but there was effort behind them.

Understanding too, to a degree. "He's okay with letters, good with them. He writes how he talks and he does too much of both," she nattered, but not without some level of awareness. "I do it too," that would be the level. "The difference is that I'm open to having a conversation and not just a," here a word escaped her and she pursed her lips in self-annoyance. When she recovered it was with poor enough grammar to make one think. "orate. Just orate. I've seen his letters and I learned a bit about you and I think you missed too much. The way to handle that, whether he realizes it or not, is just to talk to you. So let me try that, to talk that is."

She was doing more than her share of talking Jynoriel was pleasant, polite, but she was also unique and unusual, from the gloves to the burdens she obvious has borne. Mary was from Myrken and even a Myrken farmgirl saw her share of strange beings now and again, but superstition bred ignorance and that, in kind, bred isolation. She had been working on those things, but she was nervous and covering that nervousness with words and more words, despite all of her best efforts.

"First, he went mad. Then Rhaena Olwak went mad. Then Myrken went mad. That's one way to sum it up. I thought about that." Her voice was dire, not at all pleased with herself or even her simple sentences. "Did you know her? Rhaena Olwak?" As she said, this was a conversation. It had to be one. That meant asking a question before she might continue.
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Re: Busywork

Postby Alyrra » Sun May 06, 2018 4:34 pm

The sylvan elf remained pleasant throughout the girl's comments, not seeming to mind that she was filling space with sometimes meaningless words. As a creature who had once not been fluent in the language around Myrken, she also did not seem to think much on her struggle for common words. Instead, she would settle to sit before her campfire, casually heating bread and cheese upon a rock at the edge of those flames. Let the child be nervous, but she seemed to be the very definition of calm.

"Please do tell me what I have missed, then," the woman was certain to insist, even as she offers a faint smile and for the woman to share a meal with her.

She was used to people being nervous around her. That tended to happen when one was cold to the touch, and it often looked as though she rarely breathed for how long she could go between breaths. Still, she was patient to allow the girl to ramble on and find her comfort as she remained settled near a campfire that likely did nothing for her at all.

"I did not know Rhaena, no," she admits with that line of questioning, even as her head tilts slightly in learning that Glenn had apparently gone mad. She had seen him near to when he was being attacked, but certainly not when he had lost his mind to magic, or simply stress. Who could say which it was? "Is it important that I knew her? I knew Glenn, though it was in an acquaintance capacity rather than as a close friend, if I am honest. I am sorry to hear that he had troubles, but I would offer answers to his questions, should he pose them."

The question answered, she would offer her own before beginning to help herself to a slice of bread with melted cheese. A second piece would be offered to the girl as well, allowing her to sit as she might wish around the campfire.
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Re: Busywork

Postby Glenn » Thu May 31, 2018 4:59 am

Mary Ford appreciated hospitality as any good Myrkener did. Oft times, in the midst of famine or storm, or even monster, it's all they had to give and all they could possibly hope for. In that regard, the elf was more than generous and it was more than appreciated. It was, unfortunately, the only thing there was to appreciate. With every word from Jynoriel's mouth, Mary realized more and more that she was here on a premise that, if not false was at least dubious. This woman had been gone from Myrken for a decade, had not even known Rhaena, and it seems had barely known Glenn. Mary's eye began to twitch slightly; this was not a usual tick. No, it was wholly new and driven by this situation and her attempt to maintain a tight smile, any smile really. Twitch or no, she was failing at that.

"If you want to know what I really think, it's either that he's gone mad, madder. More mad again. Probably because he's stuck himself in exile, not that he didn't deserve exile, don't you tell him I said so, but some people can make the argument, he being one of them, and it's harder and harder to argue against it. So that's the first option. The second is that he's dealing with some immortal person, maybe in the Court, because that's where he is, far south in the capital, because while most people go into exile in some remote far off place, he's got to do it right at the heart of everything so that it's not even really punishment at all." Her sentences were far too long and getting more intense by the moment. "So maybe it's some vampire count or something, like how everyone said that Councilor who was only around for a bit was a vampire, which wasn't Glenn's best choice, might I add because the Council meetings were during daytime a lot of the time, but he also put Berdini in then, and we've got some real suspicions there, and Agnieszka Kaczmarek which is because he's always stupid when it comes to Agnieszka Kaczmarek, even when he's acting so smart." She finally exhaled, and then inhaled, and then exhaled again, putting her hands on her side, not quite having the lung strength for all this. "But he wants some sort of edge, so he's reaching out far and wide."

She was no longer trying to smile, though, in the midst of catching her breath, she absolutely made sure not to soften. "See, first I thought it was because he wanted to reach out to someone who he used to know, before it all went bad, like a Quincy Randall (who used to walk around with a big hammer, didyouknowher?), to try to reclaim who he was. But now it's probably because he doesn't know what he wants, but that he wants a lot and he's trying to pretend he doesn't, so this is a way to make it seem like he's doing something when he's not doing nothing. Not doing anything, I mean," she scowled as old farmtalk tried to edge in. She was better than that now. She'd worked hard at it. It didn't seem to matter currently. She wasn't sure much did. Instead, she rubbed at her face with a groan. "This is all pretty embarrassing. He fell in love with a mindwich," there was no need to soften himself here. "Things went wrong. He went mad. She went mad. She tried to conquer Myrken with her power and turn it into a prissy paradise where everyone dressed nice and held out their thumbs while drinking tea. It's worse than it sounds. Some people never recovered. He also turned Golben into a big dungeon and the king's army came in and destroyed the Council for good. Then there was the storyteller who made people's wishes come true, but in horrible ways, and a famine, another one. Everyone had strange dreams where we were all together and it was horrible, too." She looked around with another groan. "It's mainly Myrken right? All of this stuff doesn't happen here, does it?" She wasn't even sure if that was something to be hopeful about anymore.
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Re: Busywork

Postby Alyrra » Wed Jun 27, 2018 11:07 am

Jynoriel would watch the young woman as she spoke, her large eyes of doe-like brown focused in mild curiosity. The sylvan elf would allow the girl her speech - or was it rant? - while beginning to skin a rabbit she had caught earlier. There was very little for her to add, considering she grew just a little bit more lost with each additional word. What little the woman had known of Glenn had seemed far clearer through the lens of nostalgia, though the girl's story made it evident that she had seen little more than the tip of the iceberg.

In her travels, the sylvan woman had encountered a great many things, though she was not one to associate with vampires and their ilk. The only part of the girl's story which rang with any familiarity was the mention of the name Quincy. She had known the child, stationed in the same sect of the Gray Lancers with her for a time. Of course, a decade later brought little recollection more than the fact that the girl had showed real talent for getting herself in to terrible situations. No doubt it had something to do with her temper. Ymir had often saddled her with the girl in hopes that her calm nature would off-set Quincy's passions. It had rarely worked, however.

Setting the rabbit upon a spit over the fire, Jynoriel settles once more beside it with a curious expression.

"I fear that you have lost me on most of this," she admits quietly, her features shifting into an apologetic gesture. "I have not really kept up with the drama in Myrken. Admittedly, even when I was here, I was usually far removed from the inner politics of the place. The Mul and I were outsiders, for the most part."

Still, she would fix the woman a plate of roasted rabbit, assuming she wished to partake of the meat. There was little else she could offer, after all. She was not immortal. Much of her longevity had been taken from her. If Glenn was hoping for the advice of an immortal, she feared that he was turning his gaze in the wrong direction.
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