Stone Circle Fallen like hundred year old trees missed your body

nyoom

Kvarsheim.
How vastly different it was from the Isle, from Mount Chesney; so many folks walking along these fields, a peanut gallery in the opposite way that the Isle was. Peaceful, he thought, and he didn't mind it — good food, good people.
But it was no home. Not for him.
He'd wandered for a bit while Reverie caught up with her friends, found somewhere for Blossom to hunker down. Not far, never too far from her; he familiarizes himself with the scents, the faces. And by the time Reverie crept up to his side, he'd been seated in front of the Seer Stones. He examines them with solemn eyes, and he wonders who the bones that lay beneath them belonged to. He'd fulfill his promise of flowers before they leave.
He feels her come up to him, the brush of her nose; the swell of her voice, and his teeth clench together, the muscles of his jaw curved in something like sadness. He doesn't look at her. And softly, quietly, as if it may kill him to know, he asks; Who's Lestan?