Lake Rodney shapeshift conductor for your spark

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Towards his credit, the austere boy lifts his gaze and stares at the tree with a ferocious scowl upon his visage. Mato does not try to hide his soft snicker. The ferocious scowl was a bit over dramatic in the druid’s mind for if he could not see the beauty of the lake’s crowning jewel then he never would. As they said: you could lead a horse to water but you couldn’t make it drink. Cypress’ observation draws a sage nod from the empyrean. It was quiet, and Mato relished in such a (perhaps rare) treasure. Cypress explains that he stopped to sate his thirst, that he was traveling with his brothers and that he wandered off on his alone. This is apparent to the druid who sees no one else accompanying the umbra dappled boy, but he does not say this out loud, merely accepts it with a soft hum in the strong column of his throat. “What is it like?” The question spills from betwixt the druid’s lips before he can even finish the thought. “traveling freely with your brothers, I mean.” He amends himself, a bit abjectly; for now that he actually takes note of Cypress’ scent though it carries the aromas of others upon it he does not smell of a pack. The empyrean is pensive when his austere companion says that he should have met someone named Noch — that this Noch could probably see what he sees in the crowning jewel whilst admitting that he (Cypress) didn’t understand. “Not everyone shares the gift bestowed by Mother Nature: to see the earth in all it’s stunning and terrible beauty,” A guardian of the earth; that is what the druid considers himself. Her nurturer, her protector. “and that’s ok.” For surely he will learn it can be as much of a burden as it can be a gift. To love something so sacrosanct and so very wretched in her unprecedented ire. “Is this Noch you speak of a naturalist too?” The druid cannot help but ask after a few moments — because he was always up for meeting another naturalist, always welcomed the lessons of those more experienced than him in his trade.

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