[ That's... definitely a new one. She's not a lady, so she'd told Alayne that she could just call her Jaye -- but she can't deny that she's Coyote's. There's just one thing... ]
Just Coyote. No 'the'.
But the wilds... when you can stand there, in a forest or on a mountain or in a valley, and look around, and know that you're alone. That no one else is near, or if they are it's only them. No cities, no farmland, just what the gods crafted.
It's getting harder and harder to find, where I'm from.
There is a forest renowned in Arda, now known as Fangorn. It was once known by many names. There is naught within but trees, stretching up so tall that they seem to touch the skies. Yet- [ breathe out ] yet you will never be alone, for the trees have eyes and ears and lips to speak. They live, and are wiser and older than the Maia themselves.
In Lothlorien, the trees are mallorns are of golden bark and amber leaves, which trembles with life underneath your hand, speaking without words or sound. It is a wood of eternal dawn, and its Elves hide behind the leaves, so silent that you will never once hear them breathe.
[ Pause. He exhales quietly. ]
I know not the wilds you speak of, for 'tis rare that we are truly alone.
[ So says the man who knows exactly how it feels like. A mortal Man who grew up amongst the immortal Elves; a long-lived Dunadain who lived amongst mortal men. Belonging to neither; having the burden to rule the latter. ]
I guess. [ But she doesn't want to talk about loneliness, so-- ] Coyote would probably say that I'm not alone in the wilds, either -- and if I'm an animal, I guess I'm really not. But that's what it feels like.
He's lived a long time, and the world's different than it was. If they didn't sometimes need our help, my job wouldn't exist.
[ Pause. ] ... There was... an incident, a few months before I came here. Gods are fueled by belief, and someone was getting rid of every mention of them. They were weak, and he was ready to die, having lived for so long. I wasn't ready to let him.
There's one, a demon -- Belial. [ It's hard to miss the way her voice twists into a snarl at his name. ] He thrives off disbelief. He was the one who started destroying any mention of them.
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voice.
What do you consider to be 'the wilds', Jaye of the Coyote?
[ Otherwise known as he thinks they have different definitions. The Elves live in the forests, but they are not the wild.
And yes, he just named you. ]
voice.
Just Coyote. No 'the'.
But the wilds... when you can stand there, in a forest or on a mountain or in a valley, and look around, and know that you're alone. That no one else is near, or if they are it's only them. No cities, no farmland, just what the gods crafted.
It's getting harder and harder to find, where I'm from.
voice.
There is a forest renowned in Arda, now known as Fangorn. It was once known by many names. There is naught within but trees, stretching up so tall that they seem to touch the skies. Yet- [ breathe out ] yet you will never be alone, for the trees have eyes and ears and lips to speak. They live, and are wiser and older than the Maia themselves.
In Lothlorien, the trees are mallorns are of golden bark and amber leaves, which trembles with life underneath your hand, speaking without words or sound. It is a wood of eternal dawn, and its Elves hide behind the leaves, so silent that you will never once hear them breathe.
[ Pause. He exhales quietly. ]
I know not the wilds you speak of, for 'tis rare that we are truly alone.
voice.
If things were like that in my world once, they aren't anymore. It's all steel and smog now.
[ There's a bit of a rustle, Jaye's hand moving to tuck some of her hair behind an ear. ]
But you can be alone even when you're surrounded by people.
voice.
[ So says the man who knows exactly how it feels like. A mortal Man who grew up amongst the immortal Elves; a long-lived Dunadain who lived amongst mortal men. Belonging to neither; having the burden to rule the latter. ]
voice.
[ And therefore that's what it is. ]
voice.
voice.
voice.
He is a god. [ Softly. ] Does he not see clearer than mortal eyes?
voice.
[ Pause. ] ... There was... an incident, a few months before I came here. Gods are fueled by belief, and someone was getting rid of every mention of them. They were weak, and he was ready to die, having lived for so long. I wasn't ready to let him.
voice.
On belief?
voice.
voice.
voice.
voice.
voice.