Verdant Basin You're The Angel From My Nightmare

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how do you know the boy didn't simply want to wander?
at this, the boy turns with a knowing smile and a wink ready to appear upon his youthful face that he holds back. the voice is young, slightly younger than his own and interestingly masculine - in his little lifetime ysen has not met many who possess such a voice. even his is high and lilting and melodic; neither female nor male it is. he cocks his head at the statement, releases himself from his crouch to posture himself on the ground, sitting. he does not bow, but he smiles, a twinkle in his eyes and a something in his smile not yet discernible.
"a purposeless wanderer loses himself in the desert."
a few weeks in this land has matured him; although he is still the jolly, singing wanderer, he is also the boy who has seen beyond his years and lived eons before his time. he feels as if he is a multitude of many lives, and these lives are what lead to the stories he spouts. there is a spring in his step, but his gaze is that of an old, old man.
so ysengrin faces the child with a certain heaviness of stare. "never be a purposeless wander, lad. the lord would have the hide of this child."
he smiles again, continues with the tale as if he had never stopped to weave the threat of needless wandering.
"he walked, this boy, looking for men and women who would see him for what he was. a perceptive, intelligent boy with a heart of gold and edged with iron. he had eyes the deepest blue, and he walked with age to his gait.
"then one day he found a witch-crone who promised everything to him."

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