Neverwinter Forest spitfire

Maybe @Cypress? Otherwise all welcome.

In her time there, the dark girl had grown used to the thick trunks of the trees and the chill of the air that had settled in. She had been a child of summer, and it was because of this that she had survived the kidnapping. The events of that day still seemed a blur to the Blackthorn child, but she was growing swiftly and she knew that growth brought change. To say that she had accepted her fate within Neverwinter Forest was a sad reality. Lucy had made a home with the Frostfur wolves; she had grown attached to the boys in a way that she could not have explained. 

As her wounds had healed, the girl had found herself wandering further and further from their den. The stretch of trees had been a frightening and unfamiliar experience for her to have to learn, but she had found that repetition was proving to be her best aid. Every day she would find herself stepping further and further away from the family den until she was in a realm that she had never seen before. 

The emotions were always similar - first was fear. Lucy despised the dread that would flush through her blood when she found herself in an area that she had never been. Once, embarking on the unknown had been a thrill, and she was furious that it had been turned into something so awful. When the panic had disappeared, she would settle into the second emotional stage: confusion. There were still fleeting memories of her old home that would be spurred by miscellaneous objects - an odd tree trunk, an intimidating boulder - but she did not know why or how she could seek them out. Finally, she found herself washed away in the last emotion. It was a feeling that had clung to her many times since she had arrived in the forest pack; sadness. 

Lucy was trapped. 

The inky child did not know if it was wise to search for her previous home, or if she were better off to accept her fate. There were days when she missed the loving sparkle of Eljay's apple-green eyes, or the lisp of Lagan's words, but she knew better than to wander too far. The crippling image of the monster still plagued her young mind, and she wondered if there would ever be a time when she would feel strong again. 

In deference to Rannoch’s swiftly growing friendship with the bright-eyed foundling, Cypress had kept his distance — his manner of interacting with others was beginning to differ from his brother’s, and though the raven prince couldn’t be classified as introverted or shy, he was decidedly quieter. It was his wont to observe and understand before acting — and as a result, he tended to be overshadowed when set beside his blithely outgoing littermate. This had bred within the sulphureous-eyed boy a burgeoning desire to meet Lucy on his own terms, and though he had politely accepted her and continued to treat her with the chivalrous kindness of a Southern gentleman, he hadn’t spoken to her at length. Now he sought her out deliberately, the sad little girl with her healing wounds and crystal blue eyes, and when he came upon her he thought nothing of shredding the space that divided them to stop when he was near enough to touch her.

“Hello, darlin’,” was what popped stupidly out of his mouth. It was a greeting that always made his mother smile and coo, and he used it now on the forlorn little inkblot in an attempt to coax her out of her bad mood. “What’re you doin’ out here all alone?”

The sound of his voice had nearly startled her to a position of curled lips and bared fangs. The rapid beating of her heart was eating away at her, urging her to run as swiftly as her limbs would carry her. 

Instead, she craned her neck around and held him with the flickering blue of her gaze. Cypress had been far quieter than his brother, but that didn't perturb the young shadow. She liked the quiet reverence of the raven child. His youthful stoicism was a comfort for her. As she lingered on his features, Lucy found that she was relieved she had not snapped at him for his quiet approach. It would have shredded her heart to lash at him, when he was such a kind soul. Turning just slightly, the shadow moved to nudge him gently with the wet of her nose. His companionship would mean that Lucy wouldn't have to face her thoughts alone. 

"I was only exploring, " she assured him with a ghost of a smile on her lips. She had hoped it would appear encouraging, but it only made her look haunted. The girl was transitioning into a spectre - a young ghoul. 

A frown twisted the raven’s lips as he regarded the dreambringer with the bright eyes. “Don’t explore alone, Lucy,” he quietly commanded her, sheathing the clipped way his consonants betrayed his fear with a soft, entreating, “please?” The haunted smile that flitted across her waiflike features did little to soothe him. “You have to stay with Rannoch or me.” The “buddy system” had never been strictly enforced by Scimitar or Eshe, for their princes had been joined at the hip from a very young age. They were growing apart now as befit their burgeoning maturity, but Cypress could not trust Lucy to be as self sufficient as he believed he and Rannoch were. Cypress did not harbor the butterfly-like feelings of infatuation toward the girl that stirred Rannoch’s blood. He found her to be a fragile creature — a princess to be protected; an otherworldly creature to be tamed. If necessary, he would have no qualms in keeping her against her will; it was, he believed, his duty as her guardian.

Shifting awkwardly, feeling as though he’d been too brusque in his interaction with the girl, “We could explore together,” he suggested, willing to follow her lead or show her some of his favorite places in the forest. He would gladly have done whatever she wished. “Noch and I know this forest better than anyone,” he boasted, inflating their scouting skill without fully meaning to lie. He spoke with the simple pride of one born to this forest, ready to be the street rat who showed the princess a world she might never have dreamed of alone. “Every part of this forest has a story,” he told her ambitiously, which wasn’t precisely true. “I’ll tell you as many as you want to hear, Lu.” He wanted to please her; he was unsure of the how or the why — but all the other questions were easily answerable: here, now, Lucy, and Cypress.

 
There was something about the cadence of his words that soothed her soul. Though he was trying to hold her there and keep her safe. While the shadow did not want to feel confined by anyone or anything, her emotional attachment to Cypress was something of a confounding subject for her. Try as she might, she would not deny him his request to venture the forest with one of the boys at her side. While Lucy had grown into an independent young girl, the fire of his eyes was captivating and comforting enough for her to listen to his request with a quiet little smile and a flip of her tail. "Alright, Cypress," she remarked in something of a whisper. She would do what he asked of her and she would not complain – not until her life was in danger again.  
 
"Let's hear a story then," she quickly followed through with his offering. To hear him talk would be wonderful. "Take me to one of your favorite places." The girl then gestured with a slender muzzle toward the thickly wooded forest. A sharp twinkle crossed her vision.  

Lucy’s was a flighty spirit, and Cypress found himself holding his breath, sulphureous eyes locked with bright intensity on her long runner’s legs and slim, streamlined physique; he feared that his sharp command, despite being hastily covered over with an entreating “please,” would drive her from his side. A strange combination of greed and triumph squeezed his young heart as she submitted to his will, and he stood a little taller. The wild fur that covered his nape and shoulders billowed like a cape as he turned to lead her further into the darkness of the forest. Despite knowing the wood as intimately as he did, Cypress was forced to admit a growing boredom with seeing the same surroundings time after time; he harbored an awakening itch to explore and discover as his father and mother had. “I don’t have a favorite place,” was on the tip of his tongue, but he stowed the comment, feeling that it would detract from his credence as a storyteller.

He thought for a moment, then cast the girl a wicked, mischievous grin. Without preamble, “I’ll choose the first location,” he bargained, “but then you have to take the lead. We can take turns if you want.” It seemed a good game that would combine fact with fiction, reality with fantasy, and memory with suppositions about what might take place. His meandering path led them back towards the birthing den, but veered just northwest of it — he steered the girl along the path he and Rannoch had taken the day they’d confronted the butterflies. “It was a warm summer morning,” he began, his tone colloquial and uncontrived, “and the great king Scimitar had left the den before dawn, leaving his beautiful queen and a wandering princess in the capable paws of two strong warriors. They patrolled with vigilant… — ” he paused, catching his tongue between his incisors as he thought, “ — well, they patrolled with vigilance. One warrior was heavy and strong, and his fur glowed like sunlight, only silver instead of yellow. He was obviously the king’s son; they looked so much alike, and their eyes were the same shade of turquoise. The other warrior…was different.”

It had never settled well with the young raven that he was so strikingly different from his agouti family, and perhaps Lucy, a little blackbird born to a family of doves, would understand this feeling of otherness better than anyone. “The second warrior was leaner and quicker, and definitely just as fearsome,” he said, “with black fur and yellow eyes. The two of them would willingly give their lives to protect the queen and the princess in Scimitar’s absence. When they suddenly heard the sound of wings from above, they became suspicious right away — and the sound of the wings, that whirring sound, got louder and louder and louder until it filled the whole sky.” For the purpose of telling a good story, Cypress exaggerated and embellished. “The warriors had to squeeze their ears against their heads just to keep from going completely deaf,” he said, “but they kept patrolling anyway, even when they felt the wind of the wings pushing them backwards. Like this!” He sidled up alongside the girl, blowing out a soft breath along her spine and shoulders, then attempted to nudge her sideways with a gentle buffet of his hips and shoulders against hers.

He lost track of time as he wandered with the cosmic-eyed girl through the trees he loved, and all too soon it was time to return home. Still, the intimacy of shared thoughts and feelings sparked the beginnings of a deeper affection for Lucy that he had not previously recognized.