Shadewood you are at war, even in your dreams

absolutely! :-)

Again. The word hangs in the air between them where she leaves it: an invitation of sorts but not one that he is encouraged to follow at the precise moment. The Macedonian lets out a low snort that is equal parts amusement and intrigue. Even as she spoke the word “again” like a decadent offer it is upon a whisper. Words spoken in the deep throes of night like two lovers cloaked meeting at a different place each night speaking upon hushed tones so their spouses do not learn of their trysts. This meeting certainly held the same sort of intrigue, if only offering up a different circumstance. Tufted chin rises as she saunters away, melting into the trees as if she truly is a nymph. The umbra DiSarinno lingers still, giving pause to take a few last laps from the water source before he pushes north intent on visiting the places his father spoke of regardless of the revered or venomous tone his father took when he spoke of them.