Sweet dreams are made of this..

[C R Y U S]

Waking with a start, the sound of birds chirping all around him calmed Cyrus' nerves. He knew not why, but the voices liked to change his dreams from nothingness to terrible, dangerous thoughts and visions. They flooded his mind and left him clutching the covers on his bed tightly, sweat beading over his skin and matting his silver-white hair to his scalp. Shivering, sweat cold against his burning skin, Cyrus pulled himself up from the bed and moved over to a bucket of clean water. Picking it up, grunting softly from the effort it took his tired limbs and muscles to pick up the container, he stepped outside his small hut.

Positioned at the base of the tall trees that the rest of the village was nestled in, grass and wildlife were abundant around Cyrus' little hut. Made with his own two hands, after years of improving the wood and planting herbs around his home, Cyrus was proud of it. Many ladders leading up to the platforms that held the village hung around his hut, generally letting him know just who was traveling from way up high.

Not one for heights, immediately going still and immobile once someone started tugging him anywhere high, once Cyrus' feet had hit the ground, he'd never traveled up the ropes again.

Tipping the bucket over his head, half of the fresh water raining down over his nearly-naked body, Cyrus shivered. He put the bucket down and drank some of the water, using the rest to clean the sweat from his skin.

Letting the daylight that filled the clearing dry his skin, Cyrus ran his fingers through his hair. Even though darkness ran through his bones, the dark arts completely corrupting him, Cyrus loved the sun's gentle rays. Sometimes they were harsh, but they always calmed and eased the voices that rambled on in his head - telling him to do this, do that. Cyrus was calm in moments like this, just after waking. Even shadows stirred the voices, so being out like this in the daylight.. complete bliss.

Stepping back into his small hut, Cyrus mingled through the house and stripped out of his wet pants, changing into light clothes that would protect him from the cool breezes, but not overheat him in the sunlight. Wearing his typical vest, a pair of semi-tight leather pants and simple wool, long-sleeved shirt, the male loaded a hand basket with jerky and bread, then stepped back out.

Moving the earlier mentioned bucket to the side of his doorway, the male moved around the hut and went to work gathering some of the herbs he was growing near the base of the large trees. They soaked up water for miles, the roots tunneling up and creating pockets of water that the herbs could survive off easily, the tree gathering nutrients aplenty.

Being on the ground often made Cyrus wonder what the others were doing, miles above him on the treetops. Perhaps they were playing some sort of instrument, or singing.. Even planning an adventure through the forest. While he yearned for socialization with the others, hearing music, he had other things to think about.

Like what he was going to do about the animals that mutated on their own, the others who were more or less his ' followers '. It had been a while since he had first come to master most of his gifts, but only just recently since he'd been outwardly trying to pull others who seemed interested in the dark arts, to join him. He needed more than himself, alliances with others, and a larger group than what he had now.

Outsiders were rare, normally they were torn apart by his mutant creations. The Children in the village.. it was plausible to have them join him, but he had no way of going about introducing them to this other side without fear of them going straight to the Village 'head', or the rest of the council. As he was on the council, Cyrus was confided in dearly, and trusted.. it woudln't take much, he felt, to see everything come crashing down around him.

Face set in a firm expression, Cyrus chipped up some herbs and carefully arranged them in his basket, wondering just when the tree-dwellers might decide to come down. If they had any intentions to at all, of course.

Muse | Thread; OPEN

[Hayyel Crawford]

It was beautiful today, just like a spring day should be. Hayyel was moving about from tree to tree like a wild animal. Little sound followed her every step, she moved like a cat, the largest notice of her movement was the tiniest shaking of a branch or the hiss of the wind following her body. She was lithe and agile, moving every part of her body in sync with the other. Pulling, lengthening, contracting, her muscles moved perfectly as one at her age should. She pressed her body up against the trunk of a tree and tilted her head, listening to the sounds of the Forest below. Her knives were carefully tucked away in her combat boots and arm sheaths underneath her leather jacket.

She inhaled, sifting through the scent, looking for the smell of something she should be cautious of. Nothing came to her. The Forest was safe for her to venture down into. Her black jeans brushed against the bark of the tree she was on as she sat and then slid off the tree. She landed on all fours, a sharp pang came from her knee but nothing too bad. She was getting better. She landed almost perfect almost every time. She was spraining things less and less. Rook would be glad. She glanced back at her leg to make sure the bandages were still in place and she felt no tear in the skin, she was good.

Standing, Hayyel began to wander through the forest. Pushing away large fern leaves as she went. She paused as she entered a clearing, one of the ways down which most of the Children used, Hayyel never had. She preferred going out into the wilderness and then dropping or using one of the less frequented ladders. Her nose twitched as it was hit with the scent of musk and cedar. She smiled, it was a scent she recognized. As she rounded a tree she came upon a small house. What was it doing down here? She cocked her head curiously.

There, bent over a basket, was Cyrus. He was one of the Council members. She never saw him up in the Village but she had heard of him. She blinked and watched him with her eagle-like vision until she decided to approach. Then she purposefully made noise to show someone was behind him, scuffing her shoes on the ground and brushing against trees. She stopped and said in her low tones a simple greeting, " Hello Cyrus." With that said she decided to give him time to turn around and greet her, she leaned languidly against a tree.

Words: 439
Muse: AMAZING <3333
Song: Red Camaro- Rascal Flatts

[C R Y U S]

Muse

While Cyrus had not spoken to Hayell but a few times when they were younger, her presence was unmistakable. Cyrus had made it his duty to track the others of the village when they roamed through the darker section of the woods. They were in his domain then, as soon as their feet touched the forest floor. Of course he knew who it was that flitted through the trees, rushed a crossed the grass, and made almost inaudible noises as she did so.

" Hello Cyrus. " Inhaling sharply at the sudden words, the same as anyone who hadn't expected the other would have, Cyrus turned his head quickly to the side, watching her tensely. As soon as recognition flashed in his eyes, Cyrus able to pull off these minute facial details as well as anyone who felt the real emotions, he smiled softly at her, eyes half lidded as he stood.

Dusting off his pants, holding his basket of herbs gently in one hand, Cyrus looked up at her, his expression soft and curious.

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The normal stutter tainted his otherwise simple greeting. Rubbing the palm of his hand on the side of his pants, dirt smudging them but otherwise falling away from his skin, he gave her a questioning look as he spoke next.

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The laugh that he made then was soft, this emotion genuine. Cyrus and Hayyel did not speak often, or at all really. He had never payed it much mind, she didn't seem to honestly know any of the other Children that well. Most of them seemed ignorant of one another, he having to question just how far there relationships and loyalties went. An expression as if a sudden thought had just jolted his mind into working, he motioned towards his basket of herbs.

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Cyrus was indeed interested as to why she lingered here, not once in years had she done so. He didn't hear talk of her amongst the others, either, so he assumed that she - while it was generally understood that she lead them in hard times - none really knew much of her. Or at least, not enough to call her a friend as well as leader.

She certainly didn't know him, and while his medicinal skills would not allow him to rival the Lead Healer, they were up there, and Cyrus himself would have thought that it demanded a little attention of the self proclaimed Leader. While he sat with the decision, Cyrus had no faith in her leadership skills.

Though, of course. Cyrus would never let her become someone that he didn't expect great things from. Underestimating your opponent was foolish, something that the voices told him frequently.

Cocking his head to the side, Cyrus turned his gaze from her almost shyly, something else that was normal for him with many of the others, on the few chance meetings with them he got.

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[Hayyel Crawford]

She could see the tension in his body as she said her hello. She waited, breathing in again she tasted the air for any signs of fear or anger that could possibly mean danger was coming her way. None was there and when he visibly relaxed she could feel the few muscles of hers that had tightened, loosen. As he greeted her she bowed her head a smile curving her lips. She blinked as he began to speak and she waited until he had finished asking his questions. She didn't need any herbs, she didn't think, she had just wandered in her by accident. But she might as well...

"Can you look at my leg, I injured it a while ago and I couldn't find Rook today. You are as good as him, so I hear by the gossip," her compliment was genuine. Her voice sweet, she didn't really think that the stitched wound needed to be looked at, but she supposed Rook would have her head on a platter if she didn't get it checked regularly. That is if he could take her head off. Hayyel could beat anyone in a fight, or so she thought. Though her powers weren't strong for fighting, more made for tracking, her physical prowess and knife skills were something special. One of the few things special about her in her opinion.

She walked further into the clearing, still favoring her leg somewhat, though it was almost imperceptible. It hurt only when she flexed and stretched it, like when walking. She grinned at him, as she came toward his home. The grin was almost unsure, she was usually confident, but that was in her abilities as a Hunter. When it had to do with dealing with emotions and other people she was sometimes so confused she didn't know how to get herself out of the situation. "I suppose I kind of came across you by accident though," she said, she was never good about twisting the truth. "I never knew anyone lived down here. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I found you and all. Otherwise I would have to go back to the infirmary," she wrinkled her nose at the last word.

Words: 380
Muse: Great
Song: I Get Off- Halestorm

[C R Y U S]

Muse

Watching her, his gaze gentle - much liek, in fact, the expression that Cyrus used when he was watching the mutated animals in the forest - he knew before she said anything that she was hurt. The lack of weight on her leg signaled this, and Cyrus could not tear his eyes away. Wounds were one of his favorite things to look at, but of course, the lack of blood indicated first that the other was likely fine and needed nothing more than a quick look-over.

At the mentioning of Rook, Cyrus nodded. As the best healer, Cyrus took the news as if someone had told him God had reached from the sky and offered aid. Rook was, perpahps the only, someone in the village that Cyrus looked up to ( or in fact, held in any sort of esteem ). If this illage had not been cut from the outside world, Rook would have been an amazing addition to the medical world. ' Such a shame. '

Nose twitching slightly, lips puckering just a bit as he pulled his ' I'm thinking about what I could do for you that hasn't already been done ' expression, before simply nodding and motioning towards the hut.

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This was said innocently, Cyrus having little interest in anything but the wound, naive to any other thoughts that would generaly cross ones mind.

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Going back to her earlier mentioning of not knowing someone lived below the trees, Cyrus paused in the doorway of his home, giving a questioning look to the air, his gaze up on the tree-top village. Then he stepped inside, placing down his basket of herbs while rummaging about for a step stool, replying to her remark all the while.

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He gave her a shy look, waiting for her to take a seat somewhere. His home, though simple, what somewhat cluttered in an obviously ' neat and organized, but so much of it that it's hard to first look at it as either '-esque way. Two entire walls of Cyrus' home were dedicated to books and herbs, many of them having names underneath them, sitting in cubbies, occupying small wooden boxes or glass jars. He knew what each was without needing the name, could remember what each did. The names were mostly there out of need for organization, though Cyrus was in no way OCD.

A few chairs sat in the middle of the room, set around a small square table. In one corner of the room, the ones that did not seem to sprout herbs from every which direction, had the male's bed. It was comfortable, but somewhat small. Another bed, this time looking somewhat wicker-like, wood wound and bound and threaded through other strips of wood, that Cyrus often used to sit small children upon while he tended to their worries or wounds, as well as others. He hoped she would sit there, but couldn't help wondering if she was rebellious against even the feeling of others wants. Being in-tune to others, and her surroundings, was a good trait for a leader..

Shaking his head slightly, Cyrus frowned a bit.

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[Hayyel Crawford]

She limped into the house, her eyes scanning the somewhat messy interior. She didn't judge him by the way it looked. It was a cozy little home and she supposed if it worked for him thats all that mattered. She smiled and glanced about for a seat. The chairs looked as if they would put pressure on her calf muscle if she sat down. So instead she took to sitting on the smaller bed that had less of a lip. Slowly she leaned down and rolled up her pant leg. She revealed soft cream colored skin that seemed unbroken until it reached mid-way up her calf and there was a large healing tear. Black stitches held the skin together and had a slight angry and swollen look to it.

She hadn't gone to Rook in two days and had run out of her healing herbs in that time. No wonder it was hurting, it almost looked like it was slightly infected. Though of course Hayyel had no idea what infection looked like. She had never gotten hurt this badly save for the one time on her chest and that had healed perfectly. She had good healing skin so she was told. But with cats, you never knew what was going to happen because of the bacteria in their claws. Hayyel wasn't a Healer anyways, it wasn't her job to worry about wounds. She never had to before. So why start now?

Hayyel had it in her mind she was invincible, though she had never put it into words. She just knew nothing could stop her when she got started, in her mind's eye, when in reality all that needed to happen was the wrong step or movement for just a second and she would be killed. It was a deadly world they lived in, a Forest that was unforgiving and willing to take anyone's life. The wood didn't allow between good or evil to live, the animals might sometimes but not the Forest, it just chose who it wanted to take. If that person was evil or if that person was good it would take their life regardless. It would find some way even if its beasts didn't listen to it. The Forest had a life of its own, Hayyel knew that and respected it. But she knew she would never be taken, she was one of the favored.

"I could never imagine being scared to go into a tree," she trailed off as if she were going to say more. It was true though, she had lived her whole life in trees, she hunted in trees, she escaped, and traveled in trees. "Perhaps since you have the herbs, you could give me the herb that I needed from Rook. I ran out a couple days ago and now can't find him. My leg is starting to hurt more and I think the herb was keeping it less painful. If there is such an herb." She didn't like not knowing things but she didn't really care enough to learn about it. Hunting was her life after all, not Healing.

Words: 533
Muse: EFFIN' AMAZING
Song: Ablaze- Armchair Cynics