[ Kaladin keeps his eyes straight, taking the lead. If his companion wanted to keep these things to himself, so be it. He found that prying often only agitated - besides, what kind of assassin freely gave his secrets? A poor one, at best, and a dead one at worst. The captain knew what he needed, and having agile and capable company would be enough.
The thought that this could all be some elaborate trap crossed his mind, and he made sure to take extra care - keeping himself exactly 3 paces ahead and taking many the precursory glance. Though the terrain was foreign and the noises completely bizarre, he felt a little assured in the knowledge that they would probably not run afoul any of the monsters from his home - no whitespines or chasmfiends to worry about. Just the curious little shelless, feathered creatures which flitted through the tree tops. The way the leaves stayed out still bothered him - what happened when a highstorm came? Did they even have high storms here? - but he pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind.
Syl, on the other hand, was not content with simply sitting by. With a resolution born of stubbornness, and armed with a childlike curiosity, she gathered her courage and swooped gently from her place at Kaladin's shoulder. She had no weight, so he didn't feel her go - but she rustled, just slightly, like branches in the wind, as she curiously poked about the stranger. His double pulse troubled her. She had yet to meet any man nor spren who ticked quite like this, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. She flits about him for a moment, never resting still, till she finds the source. His chest. She flies up, in front of him, and for a moment, her breeze goes still. Her dress hangs limp about her knees, her hair so long it falls and curls about her feet. As though she is standing on an invisible floor that isn't quite there.
Then she reaches out a tiny, slightly translucent hand, and it sinks through the fabric of the man's jacket, and her finger tips touch it.
Her hand rests, just lightly, on the second heart.]
bite the pillow im.. getting.. beaten???
The thought that this could all be some elaborate trap crossed his mind, and he made sure to take extra care - keeping himself exactly 3 paces ahead and taking many the precursory glance. Though the terrain was foreign and the noises completely bizarre, he felt a little assured in the knowledge that they would probably not run afoul any of the monsters from his home - no whitespines or chasmfiends to worry about. Just the curious little shelless, feathered creatures which flitted through the tree tops. The way the leaves stayed out still bothered him - what happened when a highstorm came? Did they even have high storms here? - but he pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind.
Syl, on the other hand, was not content with simply sitting by. With a resolution born of stubbornness, and armed with a childlike curiosity, she gathered her courage and swooped gently from her place at Kaladin's shoulder. She had no weight, so he didn't feel her go - but she rustled, just slightly, like branches in the wind, as she curiously poked about the stranger. His double pulse troubled her. She had yet to meet any man nor spren who ticked quite like this, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. She flits about him for a moment, never resting still, till she finds the source. His chest. She flies up, in front of him, and for a moment, her breeze goes still. Her dress hangs limp about her knees, her hair so long it falls and curls about her feet. As though she is standing on an invisible floor that isn't quite there.
Then she reaches out a tiny, slightly translucent hand, and it sinks through the fabric of the man's jacket, and her finger tips touch it.
Her hand rests, just lightly, on the second heart.]