Gyrfalcon

*Gyr applauds* I like your poem as well, though in a non-specific way. *smiles*

*applauds* A good poem, Falcon. And no, the world isn't perfect, but we can still do our best to find as many of those as possible. *smiles*

*Gyr applauds* A wonderful poem, Gwaihir, though I don't quite understand the love of dancing... Dancing has just never been something I've done.

*Gyr applauds* Well written, and it easily conveys its sense of urgency. Nice work, Canid. =)

*Gyr applauds* nice poem. *smiles*

*applauds* Nice, I like it. =)

*Gyr laughs and applauds* Go Canid! Some of my better writing has come at that time, teetering on the brink of exhaustion.

*Gyr applauds* I like them, keep on writing.

YAY! Go Ozymandias, for an excellent poem. *smiles* Go Tralla and her muse!

Gyrfalcon spoke firmly "Stay." At his side, Daryl yips a few times, and Canid looks up at Adelaide "Daryl said that he wants you to stay too." Gyrfalcon looks at Adelaide, expression a little sympathetic, but more kind then anything. "I offered to go with you, not to get you away from the Pen, but only if you believe that you need to visit Clearwater, to clear your conscious or out of a sense of duty or some other personal reason. If you have no desire to go there, then do not go. Stay here, and enjoy this place with us." he said, giving Adelaide a smile.

Heh, thats good. Excellent poetry, though- it flows very quickly. *applauds*

*Gyr applauds* It reminds me of my own hell of schoolings. Thought my year was in Middle School, I remember what I had to go through. *Gives Kayiya a Polite Hug* Keep it up, Katiya!

*Gyr races back in, resurrects Yui-chan quickly, and runs for it!*

And neither should just the mother stay home- both parents should spend as much time as they can with their children, and with each other. Well, just my $0.02.

Do it, Nyyark, do it! *Gyrfalcon eggs on Crowboy (and coincidentally, that turns out as a long pun. Didn't mean it to be, but when you have a birdbrain to match your birdbeak (I'm bad, aren't I?), these sort of things nest in your brain (I'll stop, I'll stop!))* *Gyrfalcon takes flight from the glares of hostility and the talons of revenge*

*Gyr applauds* Wonderful poem, I like the repitition.

Gyrfalcon restrained a smile, amused by Kaleyra's actions. She seemed to get so wrapped up in her world of history and ideas, research and knowledge, that she forgot the world her body had to live in. But, he admited to himself, that same detachment from 'reality' as most people considered it allowed Kaleyra some unsurpassed insights. Gyrfalcon knew that he himself would never have looked through a book of children's tales. Gyrfalcon's thoughts were interrupted as Timothy's eyebrows drew down over his eyes. "Sing a song to find the island? We're going to trust a children's fable now? That is the stupidist-" "Shut up, Timothy." Gyrfalcon said, a general's snap in his voice, fueled by his anger as Kaleyra's face started to fall at Timothy's words. Kaleyra's ego was fragile, and Timothy had been snapping at her a lot more often lately... Timothy swung around to look at Gyr, his anger reined in a bit, but not gone. "Listen, Gyrfalcon, there is no way a song could be used for magic!" "Really?" Gyrfalcon said, and recalled a spell. In a soft voice, he began to sing. "A song of war, heart of fire, blazing, burning, quickening intensity on this alter, this pyre I give into the propensity to hate my enemy, burn his soul destroy his world, boil his blood death comes before debt paid in full, and my wrath moves like a flood the song of fire, the call to war the cold hand of Death, knocking on your door..." Between his outstretched hands, mana gathered, began to form into some unholy combination of fire and death magics. Gyrfalcon let the song die down, and opened his eyes to look at Timothy, the fireball dissipitating with the breaking of the song. "Suffice to say, music, songs and singing are more then enough to call on the mana. There are whole cultures where the only way to use mana is to sing it from the ground and the sky. Gyrfalcon gave a half-smile as he turned his head to look at Kaleyra "I don't know if I'll be able to sing it correctly, but I'll be willing to sing. Also, I wish to compliment you- I doubt any of the rest of us would have ever found the clues to how to open the way to this island. It was only your intelligence and ability that gave us this key." At his side, Timothy muttered his appologies for his words before, and likewise praised Kaleyra's skills. Kaleyra nodded and offered a small smile, confidence returning, even as she blushed under their compliments. "Well, um... I don't have the entire song translated just yet. I'll go and finish the translation, and you can have the original and the translation in a few hours." Kaleyra said as she started to get up, hand already moving to her belt, where a pen and a small capped container of ink hung. Gyrfalcon stood and gently rested his hand on Kaleyra's shoulder to stop her. "You'll have time on the boat to finish the translation, and I'll have time to study it. Dawn will come too soon for my liking, and we should be rested before the journey. I think with our new companions, it is best to be as alert as possible. Lets go to sleep, and leave translations for tomorrow." Gyrfalcon explained. Timothy nodded, both at the need for sleep and the need to be alert with their new companions. Gyrfalcon was beginning to worry about Timothy's paranoia. Kaleyra started to argue, but her large yawn defeated her attempts, and she decided that, just once, perhaps personal matters, little details such as sleep, could come first. Timothy and Kaleyra made their goodnights, and Gyrfalcon wearily sat on the bed, and removed his boots. Kaleyra popped in quickly to gather up her book and journal before hurrying back to her quarters, and with a weary sigh, as muscles relaxed, Gyrfalcon slipped into sleep.

Gyrfalcon cocked his head in curiosity and spoke. "How is it that you are living a lie? Because you fled from your community, did not reveal that you had killed him, and that he did not die in that fire?" Gyrfalcon shook his head slowly "I personally feel that you have nothing to feel guilty for. This... man," Gyrfalcon said with distaste, "killed your mother, and raped you. He died, perhaps more gently then he deserved." Gyrfalcon sighed. "But these are not words of comfort, and I do not know what to say that would offer comfort in a situation like this. However, if you are determined to return to your hometown, please, let Daryl and I accompany you, along with all others who would join."

*laughs* Poor Gwaihir and Wyvern. I've never had any RL adventures that are interesting enough to speak of. Ah well, perhaps that is a good thing, perhaps not.

*Gyr smiles and applauds* Yay! Now do the rest.

*Gyr laughs and applauds* A wonderful poem, though I normally don't say words that fast. *grin*

*Gyr applauds* An excellent poem, but you aren't to be executed until I knows why you're out to get me! *grin*

*Gyr applauds* I like it, though I'll note that I actually find a tickling clock soothing. *grin*

"Why?" an unexpected voice said to the side, and Balladore looked up, fighting to hold back his tears, grief swinging to rage at the unexpected and unwanted interruption. Jheric stepped closer to Balladore, an emotion that he shows rarely now on his face- sympathy. "You ask why, good druid? Because we humans, and all other species, are imperfect. We fear, we hate, we grasp for what is not ours, and we kill. Because of that, there is war." Jheric stopped, and sighed. "I've heard of war being called a ravenous beast, that reaches out and kills to feed its hunger. How true that seems, yet it ascribes a sentience to war, as if it chose its targets and slays them for a purpose. Yet, the loss of your wife... that served no purpose, Balladore. I... I know that I can offer no words of comfort, no insight into what goes on beyond the veil of death... all I can say is that I wish this had never happened, wish you were still happy, your wife alive, your children safe. I would trade all that I have seen and experienced since following you, for your happiness. I guess the only words I can offer are these: I'm sorry." Jheric quickly, almost unobtrusivly, brushed a tear from his cheek and disappeared down a side corridor, to leave Balladore to his grief. He didn't know if he had helped or hurt... only time would tell.

Gyrfalcon leans forward, face grim. At his side, Daryl is growling softly, eyes shifting away from golden and towards red. "Neither I nor Daryl believe that a horrible event such as you say is the woman's fault. This is the crime of your father, and you are in no way stained by it, except for the pain it has left you... Please, do not go. I wish to hear your story, and what you have to say, and how you came to be in this place." The fox by his side nods his head in agreement, tail slowly lashing back and forth. And if this man is still alive, he will not be when I find him. Gyrfalcon promised to himself. At his side, Daryl forceably stopped his growl, forced himself to stop thinking of the man, and slowly his eyes returned to gold. But in their depths lurked the red spark, the call of violence unleashed.