Verdant Basin You're The Angel From My Nightmare

[table width=60%][tr][td]

Ah, but he is so, so bored! So very lacking in things to do and happenings to excite the imagination. The boy pouts to nobody in particular but he does so all the same, and then he sighs, and all too dramatically flops onto the ground. woe is he! he is lost, lost without interest to sustain his will to live - and then he thinks back to the humming of his lord, and of the tale-weaving that there is to be done in his duty, and the lands that are yet to be explored! wonder! ysen grins, smile a-stretching his childish maw, elated and joyous all of a sudden. he is indulged!
he picks up scent after scent and encounters no wolf and he thinks, thinks of a character that he spins into existence. and he carries on his odd jaunty gait, so flippantly casual to the uninitiated, ordinary to those who know him - that is, none except his Madir dearest. "once there was a boy," says he, to the wind and the skies and those that will hear him. "and the boy was funny. a curious youth was he!"
the Dreamweaver pauses, then tilts his head up, eyes atwinkling.
his boy has a face!
he bends, meets the other child with his even, silver stare, croons slowly, deeply as befits a tale-teller of his station. "the boy wanted one thing more than ever. he wanted to be appreciated."
ysen only smiles sweetly, softly, the likeliness of a morning-dew flower, perfect in its fragility, beautiful in its dawnsong colours. "hello there."

[/td][/tr][/table]