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46 Posts
Ooc — CJ
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The shaman teased of a visit back to the Vale, but Tenzin gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. "Surely I could make it, but such places are better left behind," he said, turning to Lecter with a wink, "and it is only thanks to you that my wounds have healed so wondrously." Had the Dragon merely continued the assault for moments longer, the monk would have certainly died. His head injuries alone were not pretty, but with the added bruising to his ribs and multiple lacerations, he had truly been a eyesore. Despite that, Lecter had provided him with treatments and comforts.
"Tell me more about the Mountain," Tenzin inquired, settling into the sun lazily. He had melted onto the ground and now lay half-curled toward his friend. He had always loved storytelling the best and, as he had done in the Vale, hoped to tell the story of Silvertip Mountain to any and all who joined its ranks. To children, especially, he loved to weave tales. "What history builds it? Do your own gods—forgive me, I cannot remember their names—play a role?" he chimed, letting his eyes roll to look at Lecter as he let the warmth of the ground beneath soak into his body.