[Well, someone's in a good mood! When she clicks on video, she's sitting in the backyard, surrounded by gold-red leaves, feeding her foxes strips of fruit and looking... pretty chill.]
Thank you! ...it's probably a little odd to be glad I haven't gone back, but... well. I still am. So thank you.
[Video] Post-Dated for 10/28/11swordofthenorthOctober 28 2011, 04:06:49 UTC
[Isley is surrounded by trees, many of which have begun to lose their foliage. Far behind him the shadowy outline of his home can be seen sitting atop a hill. The sky, what can be seen of it, is stark.]
[Seated next to a large white tree, his Forge in his lap, Isley dons a dark cloak that conceals most of his form. He wears with it a contemplative expression at first, and then a small, gradually appearing smile.]
[The injuries sustained yesterday are healed, the elves' toxins having worn off by now.]
How are you feeling, Priscilla?
[...That's right. It's still dark because the sun has not yet risen above the trees. It is morning, and Isley has not slept a wink.]
[Video] Post-Dates your face.yetsleepingOctober 28 2011, 04:20:22 UTC
[There's a moment of silence, and then video flickers on. At the moment, Priscilla is in bed, scratched a bit, but generally well off... and wearing one of those slip nightgowns that she always favored, even in Alfons.]
[The first cat - the one called Irene - is curled on an open book, and the edge of the screen shows the back and forth of one bushy foxtail.]
[Video] ...post-Dates ALL THE THINGS AND your face AND YOUR CAT'S FACEyetsleepingOctober 28 2011, 04:31:54 UTC
You haven't slept! [Not that she has, either... but she rarely does. From him, it's a bit odd, particularly given the circumstances.]
[Still, he does look to have recovered, and so her mind starts to hop onto the next thought, and then the next, and then is lost in trying to read those lips.]
[The wind howls, a cry coming off the coast that sounds as cold as it does mournful. Barren limbs of trees rattle like bones across the feed, and not too far off is the roar of waves crashing against the docks and the wet sands on the beach.]
[It is all sound, however. No visuals accompany the audio.]
Priscilla.
[Isley's voice is gentler than the wind, yet strong enough not to be lost to it.]
I'm certain I don't have to tell you, that you're aware, but I've returned from the Ruins.
[And only just. Behind him, the Mist still swirls, fog-like fingers reaching for the ends of his hair, the ends of his cloak as it billows out behind him with every step.]
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Thank you! ...it's probably a little odd to be glad I haven't gone back, but... well. I still am. So thank you.
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[She dangles a fruit slice over a fox's nose.]
...it doesn't always seem that long, though.
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[Seated next to a large white tree, his Forge in his lap, Isley dons a dark cloak that conceals most of his form. He wears with it a contemplative expression at first, and then a small, gradually appearing smile.]
[The injuries sustained yesterday are healed, the elves' toxins having worn off by now.]
How are you feeling, Priscilla?
[...That's right. It's still dark because the sun has not yet risen above the trees. It is morning, and Isley has not slept a wink.]
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[The first cat - the one called Irene - is curled on an open book, and the edge of the screen shows the back and forth of one bushy foxtail.]
[She rubs her face, just a little.]
Quiet. I've been feeling very quiet.
...what about you?
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[For a moment he observes the fox tail as it swishes back and forth. Then, his focus returns to Priscilla.]
Both in mind and in spirit. It is to be expected after such an ordeal, however.
[His smile begins to fade.]
[The wind picks up, stirring silver hair around him. His lips move, but the Forge cannot pick up their sound.]
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[Still, he does look to have recovered, and so her mind starts to hop onto the next thought, and then the next, and then is lost in trying to read those lips.]
[A fruitless attempt. She blinks.]
Did you... say something?
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[It is all sound, however. No visuals accompany the audio.]
Priscilla.
[Isley's voice is gentler than the wind, yet strong enough not to be lost to it.]
I have something to show you.
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Errm. Yes! I mean, what?
[...]
I mean, yes, that's fine! What do you... err, what is it?
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I said show you.
Meet me at the docks, and then I'll take you there.
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[And only just. Behind him, the Mist still swirls, fog-like fingers reaching for the ends of his hair, the ends of his cloak as it billows out behind him with every step.]
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Yes... you're very hard to miss.
[Did you find what you were looking for?]
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I almost went too far, I think.
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You were out there for... a long time, too.
Did anything... interesting happen?
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