...is the central bowl, with the lake visible as a glint in the distance. A half mile southeast are the lower caverns and infirmary, while the feeding pens lie to the southwest. T'jano drops off Mrrth and, by habit, swings around her to inspect for any Threadscore that might have gone unnoticed in the thrill of the battle. None found, he'll go to unfasten the links of her harness; she can then...

...out of the snowey skies. T'jano looks up and, for once in his life, trips. The snowdrift that didn't help him any (or helped trip him, should one look at things in that manner), emits a curse. Mrrth settles, quite nearby, and creeps over in a fluent flow of sea-green through white, to peer into the snowdrift. A hand reaches out, rather like some horror film, where the zombie's grey fingers...

... he twists a forceps into the securing stitches, so they might be wound and the wound levered together. T'jano mutters while he works, as well, evidently his parts of a conversation with Mrrth who remains trying to corral Maialeth's attention with the sensations and pictures her mind paints. "Aye. Who's the 'Second over there?" Th'deus asks, unable to remember for all the limited...

>> I bespoke Marryn with: Mrrth touches your mind, distant swirls of ocean's-deep, salty and refreshing at the same time. Distinct, utterly, with a voice that almost seems as if it is made of its own accent in drawled alto syllables: < < Merry T'jano wishes that I tell you that your daughter is born. He asks if I should bring you to see her. Thera sleeps. >> The connection lingers, to...

...revoke what she has dangled in front of him, this promise.  He heard the apology, but trust, once gone, is hard to rekindle.  T'jano's eyes half-lower.  "Can I take him out of the creche, to meet Mrrth?"  Two questions, almost like the old Tejano, who would pile on sentence to sentence in a different kind of madness. "Aye, now. I'd like t' be takin' 'im home wi' me when I leave, jest t' get him...

...revoke what she has dangled in front of him, this promise. He heard the apology, but trust, once gone, is hard to rekindle. T'jano's eyes half-lower. "Can I take him out of the creche, to meet Mrrth?" Two questions, almost like the old Tejano, who would pile on sentence to sentence in a different kind of madness. "Aye, now. I'd like t' be takin' 'im home wi' me when I leave,...

10/9/2008 Logfile from Tejano. >> I bespoke Hadamarth with: I sense that Mrrth touches minds, a heavy saline mist, cool with dank undertones. < < >> I sense that Hadamarth touches back, soft and lit with a golden glow and the smokey hints of sage and cedar by the sea. < < >> I bespoke Hadamarth with: I sense that Mrrth takes...

...does finally move, as if coming out of a deep sleep. Flickers of R'ish come through Yo's sight, as well as his own image. "R'ish? Pardon? I don't suppose it'd be too much to have Al contact Mrrth? She's with me." That cryptic statement seems to make sense to the greenrider as he stiffly shifts and turns to set his feet off the bunk. T'jano catches the leathers before they slide down again...

...with body odor, lingering scent of excrement, and hints of the diseases which no doubt waft like silent promises, through the slow-moving, humid air. >> I bespoke Elsveth with: I sense that Mrrth awakens, distant, and sends her own awareness in your direction. Clearly, though her unique mind-voice does not speak, the question is, 'What?' << Thera is laying on the first cot on her back...

...up their speed until T'jano's destination becomes apparent. The green alights, a bare-bones landing, and slinks a few paces toward the stairs. No acknowledgment to either her sister or Hadamarth; Mrrth's attention is on T'jano and her rider's approach. The green's wedge muzzle tips down, finally, so that T'jano might embrace it, and his hands stroke along her jawline. Tactile contact, there; both...