4017/Spirit of the Forest

Spirit of the Forest
Date of Scene:	16 April 2016
Location:	Hylian Realm of the Sky <HRS>
Synopsis:	In an effort to beat some Sheikah history and culture into his head, Yalai drags the Rescue Knight Aedan MacCarvill into various and sundry Sheikah Temples, starting with the Forest Temple.
Cast of Characters:	879, 891

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Yalai the Stave (879) has posed:
Although the Hylians and the Sheikah do not always get along, there is a certain impetus for their cooperation, and that is the simple fact that most Sheikah are far superior combatants than their Hylian cousins. They have been fighting the war against Demise's hordes since the Goddess' time, and their instincts have not dulled.

That also means that the Sheikah have maintained a robust culture on the surface world. They have culture, cities, and places of worship where many Hylians have only seen pristine wilderness -- hidden as a matter of necessity, because the demonic hordes would not hesitate to destroy that which they could find.

It's over Faron Province that Yalai has brought her companion today, not to fight or scout, but to share with him the culture and teachings from Hylia that much of Hylia's chosen people have forgotten over the generations. The Sheikah have remembered and kept alive these teachings -- and now that the two races have discovered one another again, it's high time to close that cultural gap.

Or at least try.

As usual, Yalai -- some complicated post between lieutenant, assassin, scout, Internal Affairs, and chief of police among her people -- has left her friend in the dust, taking off with her much lighter Loftwing, although she flies just slowly enough that he won't lose her among the trees.

She leads him deep into the forest before leaping from her bird at a height that would give many pause, landing in a three-point crouch that she takes a moment to rise from, cloak rippling as she straightens. Her arms fold as she waits for him, half-smiling that sly little fox-smile.

"Be taking a look around," she tells him simply, "and be telling me what you are seeing."

It's a seemingly ordinary-looking clearing, virgin forest, where the trees are so old and massive that even the creepers growing on them seem to have trunks of their own. But... something about them is a little off. They're too close together; too solid a line. Is it a wall? Or is it just really dense growth...?

Aedan MacCarvill (891) has posed:
    Most Hylians are simply weirded out by the Sheikah. Between their particular skin colors, near-uniformly white hair and absolutely uniformly red eyes, the Sheikah paint a picture of otherworldly creatures that many are simply not comfortable with. The fact that the Shadow Folk serve as the secret police of the Hylian Monarchy does not help these particular matters, either. Whether the standing King or Queen is a good ruler or not, there is always dissent, and always concern over wha exactly it is that they are doing.

    And there is always the fear that some jackboots will come in the night and snatch a dissenting family from their beds, never to be seen again.

    The Sheikah play into this sort of thinking perfectly.

Aedan MacCarvill doesn't buy it, in large part because he's been a part of Hylian Military culture for a very long time. Yes, black operations occur, and yes, sometimes they are less than pretty. But it isn't innocents that are murdered in their sleep, and there is a preference for alternative solutions wherever possible.

    At this point, some people just think Aedan MacCarvill been bewitched. They're not entirely wrong, but there's little enough magic to it.

    The great loftwing which Aedan rides pauses in a hover over the forest, the knight peering down into the treetops below. He can jump a mighty long ways, and drop a mighty long ways too, but that's pretty far even for him. He's not as small or light as Yalai, and he wouldn't wonder if such a fall broke his legs. His solution is what it normally is in these situations: Popping a potion bottle and jumping anyway.

    The enormous Knight drifts to the ground slowly enough as to be comical, landing gingerly next to Yalai. Already, Aedan decides, Yalai looks far too amused with herself for dragging him out here. He squints at her in exaggerated faux-suspicion, before gazing around at the surrounding forest.

    His eyes are sharp. Aedan catches the strangeness of the surrounding growth, but not the underlying cause.

    ... Unfortunately, having lived in the sky where trees are not plentiful, Aedan doesn't actually have the frame of reference required to understand that trees do not grow that close together without strangling each other. He looks around at Yalai, then back at the surroundings.

    "I dunno. All the plants and trees are kind of cramped together, but I'm not all that familiar with forests. Ironic, I know, since I need to know about plants to make potions, but plant growth up top is a lot more..." He pinches his forefinger and thumb together, "... limited than it is down here."

Yalai the Stave (879) has posed:
"Just so," Yalai points out, her back to Aedan as she stretches, standing on tip-toe with her fingertips laced high over her head. Sheikah are tremendously agile, and it reflects in the way they move, by turns too liquid or too articulated for their Hylian cousins. Most are lighter-boned, too, more fragile in exchange for this extra agility. "The trees are being too close together. They should not be growing so close together, in a place like this; they will otherwise be strangling each other, there being not enough room for their roots, yes?"

Striding forward, Yalai unshoulders her quarterstaff with a brief, almost convulsive movement of her shoulder, and lashes out once with it in the same movement.

It rebounds off the wall of greenery, but it sounds like it hit /stone/.

"Because be looking closer, and it is not all being greenery." She beckons him with a gesture. "Be coming closer. This is being the Forest Temple, one of the places being sacred to our people. We are recognising Nayru as being the one who is creating and guiding us, but we are also having places of respect for Din and Farore, too, yes? This is being one such place."

If he looks closely, he'll find the branches arch over a dark hole in them, a gap just wide enough for someone Aedan's size to squeeze through, with some effort. The doorway is a brief instant of shadow -- and then it lets out into a chamber of blinding, dazzling sunlight. Nothing grows directly overhead; the yellow light of the sun is warm, and it smells like earth and greenery deep in the heart of Faron Wood. Shaped marble flagstones are underfoot, artfully arranged with gaps where the earth lines them; the walls of the temple seem to be formed of equal parts marble and equal parts huge trunks -- the lines between architecture and nature are blurred, here, seemingly intentionally.

Aedan MacCarvill (891) has posed:
    "I suppose that's why you don't get too many up on the sky islands." Aedan ponders for a moment, glancing up towards the skies. "The roots tend to come out of the bottom of the island eventually, so there's not a hell of a lot of room for extras. But if that's the case, why is it arranged this way here?" The answer comes soon after he asks the question, though, as Yalai strikes the wall with her staff.

    Should've made a heavy thunking noise as wood does against wood, but it was definitely a sharper sound than that. More of a clatter.

    Looking closely, he finds the arch. But it's awfully...

    Aedan's gaze drifts back towards her. It's awfully Yalai-sized. He makes a bit of a face at this revelation, but since the whole point of this in fact seems to be to get him in there to look around, he supposes he can hardly complain. He squeezes through with a little bit of effort, turning sideways to make it through without having to remove any of his usual gear... though he supposes it's hardly necessary to have hatchets hanging from one's belt to visit a temple.

    "Based on the size of the door, I'd say you made it that way so the typical moblin grunts couldn't fit through, and especially not the big ones." A few of the smaller ones might have an easy time, and it depends on the sub-species. Some of them are small little bastards, but those aren't quite as much of a concern in the immediate sense.

    Once he's inside, the Knight looks around in wonder. He calls back to Yalai, who he assumes is following him in (though he wouldn't put it past her to engage in some sneakery here), to ask, "This place must have taken forever to build, especially without calling any sort of attention to it. And you'd have to wait for the plants to grow around bits of it... how did you /manage/ this?"

    Magic seems like the simplest answer.

Yalai the Stave (879) has posed:
"No," Yalai agrees, shaking her head. The wind ruffles her hair, sending a few errant strands into her face, which she brushes aside. "You will not be seeing forests like this even in the largest of sky-islands. I think it is being too high in the sky, for them, with too much wind and not enough water... a shame. I am liking the forests, myself."

It's not hard to see why. The dappled shadows and massive boughs give plenty of places to hide, and they also provide a highway of their own, with enough room for the agile Sheikah to run along them. In fact, it almost seems like there are eyes on them, although if there are people here, they elect not to show themselves.

Once inside, Yalai gestures to indicate the interior wall, which is visibly more stone-like. There are still thick ropes of vines and leafed ivy that chase their way up and down the masonry, but it's easier to see it as a structure built rather than one grown. "Just so. And other, less savoury things. Moblins are not the only threat here." It's rare for the Sheikah to phrase something so clearly and forcefully, and he might find that she's looking directly at him when she says it -- she's speaking in deadly earnest. "You are not wanting to be here alone when the sun is down."

She looks away, regarding the walls at his question. "I am not knowing. It was being before my time, but I am knowing that there was magic in its making, too, yes?" She takes him by the wrist, leading him over to a wall. Strange glyphs are cut deep into the stone, although the leaves of ivy almost hide it.

Taking his hand, she traces one of his larger forefingers along the glyphs.

"This place was being built by Nezhet the Vine. That is being his name-glyph. There are others, but I am not knowing them. It was originally being a place of worship for Farore." She steps back, looking up to where the sun filters down. "There are being other rooms and atriums, here. A pool, for cleansing; and another pool, for contemplating. It is also going deep underground. It is not being new, but it is not being so old, either. And it is still being intact." Yalai makes a face, nose wrinkling. "Demise's brood have not yet been finding this place; they are being too stupid, and too direct, to be looking."

She folds her arms, then, tapping fingers against the opposite forearm. Whether it's in thought or in restlessness, it's hard to say. Maybe it's just the latter, going by her grin. "I am guessing that aside from the Temple of the Goddess, you are not having any temples like this one, yes?" The grin fades. "There are being four others like this. The Forest Temple, here. The Fire Temple. The Water Temple. The Shadow Temple. And the Spirit Temple."

Aedan MacCarvill (891) has posed:
    "It's a little claustrophobic for my tastes." Aedan admits, concerning the forest. It's not terrain that he's particularly used to, although the idea of it isn't /entirely/ unknown. Keeping plants going above the sky barrier required a lot of care not to over-harvest or otherwise homogenize them too much. That's how you get lots of dead plants when the first nasty pestilence comes along.

    A curious expression flickers across his face when Yalai looks his way while speaking of threats down below. Surely she isn't implying other hylians. He asks, "What else is down here to worry about? There's beasts of all kind to be sure, but I wouldn't think they're capable of finding their way into places like this. Do the Shadow Folk have... I don't know, a bestiary of some sort to reference?"

    Yalai takes him by the wrist, and he follows dutifully. The glyphs don't mean anything to him, and he can only guess that they must be in an older form of Shadow Tongue. What little he's been taught is the modern variation, and he knows language can change with a click of the fingers. Some of the older hylian texts are incomprehensible and...

    "The Vine, huh. I knew your titles weren't strictly stabby and smacky, but I wasn't sure precisely how far they went laterally... do you have any specialists in things like that these days? How are titles handled when their original owner dies?" Or, to put it another way, would somebody be able to claim the title of Vine, and how. But Aedan is quickly distracted by Yalai's restlessness, and her own remarks.

    Aedan on the verge of asking her if something is wrong, but perhaps he catches her grin, or simply decides better, because instead he answers, "Some of the islands out there are big enough to hold a temple, but there aren't that many building materials to work with, and there isn't that much space. The Goddess Temple is the biggest one that I know of in the whole world, because we really can't afford big shrines all over the place. People need places to live, to store things, and so on."

    "Most islands will have a single temple or chapel and leave it at that, and only the Goddess Temple is really..." He gesticulates vaguely, "... you know, grandiose. Even that's put to practical use, as you know. I know there are some islands out there that some madmen have fixed up in a pretty grand fashion, but I've never seen them myself. All of that is part of why we're so spread out these days, on the ground."

    "Nobody's ever had enough room to even contemplate building that many temples. Uh..." Aedan looks between Yalai and the surrounding temple. "Are the other temples as literal as this one? Did you somehow make a building out of /fire/?"

    If not for the existence of magic, even Aedan would think this a very foolish question.

Yalai the Stave (879) has posed:
"Almost anything is being claustrophobic for your tastes," Yalai points out flatly. When someone's as freakishly huge as Aedan, it's a little hard for things not to seem that way, especially something built for the scale of a people generally smaller than their Hylian cousins. "This is being no different from my tent, except you will be hitting your head with more firmness on the doorways, here."

Looking down, Yalai wanders a few strides away, taking a circuitous path toward a bare patch of dirt. Shrugging off her quarterstaff, she uses the end of it to scratch a few marks in the dirt. Closer inspection would show some kind of hideous monster, and its visage seems to defy description -- like the common monsters of the surface world, but more sinister, somehow; bulkier, and even a simple line drawing in the dirt seems to convey the bloodlust. "The creatures Demise is controlling. He was being sealed by Link, this we are knowing, but evil is a thing that is sleeping fitfully at best."

"They are wanting to break him free, Aedan, and siege the Sealed Temple. We are knowing this. That is what the purpose is being of these temples. They are being built in places of power, even if they are being only generations old instead of thousands of years. And from here, in these places, we can be reinforcing the seal... as best we can be reinforcing it, anyway." Her red eyes are cold as she stares down her own stick-drawing. "They are not being dumb brutes. They are having an animal cunning all their own. And they are having an appetite for the flesh of Hylian and Sheikah alike."

She looks up, white hair fluttering a little. "Bestiary? No." Yalai pauses. "Yes." There's another flicker of indecision. "Maybe. We are knowing songs, but we are not having a book like you are maybe thinking of."

"The Vine," she confirms. That he shows no recognition to the glyphs cut into the wall doesn't seem to bother her at all. "No. He was an old one. Before this temple was being built, and when even the Sealed Grounds were being new. Stone by stone, that was built to be containing the King of Evil. Stone by stone, this was being built to augment that seal, yes?" She shrugs, but she doesn't elect to answer his question about names. It's probably not surprising. The Sheikah are dodgy at the best of times, and even Yalai at her most candid is not immune to that quirk of behaviour. Sometimes she simply doesn't answer his questions, with no real explanations of why.

She shrugs, at his description of Hylian temples. She knows; she's seen them, but she shrugs again at his question about the temples, this time a more noncommittal gesture. "No. It is being built of stone. They are all being built of stone. But how they are being built, and where, and around what; that is what is being different for each one, yes?"

Turning again, cloak rippling behind her, she looks to the empty courtyard around them. Sunlight filters down in bright rays, and illuminates her until she seems more ethereal than solid; shining in her white hair and causing the black of her cloak to seem a little less harsh. Even the deepest shadows wither in light. (Indeed, in a more literal sense, he might notice that she's squinting an awful lot, like the light actually bothers her eyes.)

"The Fire Temple is being built in the heart of the mountain. It is being near the Fire Sanctuary, but deeper below. Rivers of the mountain's own blood are running beneath and through it... if it is being there still. I will not be saying it is not being a dangerous place, because it is; not because of what is being in it, but because of where it is being built." In other words, the Fire Sanctuary was like a walk in a park compared to this place. "But it is being built over a place of strong magic, yes?"

Aedan MacCarvill (891) has posed:
    "Tents are claustrophobic by design. They're not meant to be enormous, they're meant to be portable and suitable for sleeping and basic shelter. Even /my/ tent is claustrophobic for me. We need a full-scale mobile dwelling to make it big enough for my tastes, and 'mobile' is pretty loose with those." In other words, Aedan actually prefers straight-up yurts when he can get them. Problem is, while they're acceptable if you only move around once every few weeks or months, they're pretty heavy to haul around as often as this pair moves about.

    He observes Yalai move away and make a drawing in the dirt, leaning over it to get a better look once it's done. Aedan remarks, "If I was a decent hand at drawing I'd take a shot at making a book about these beasts myself, because you're not prone to exaggeration and I haven't seen anything like this yet. The tektites out by the volcano were pretty nasty, but not this big."

    "I assume they weren't full grown." He adds, half-sarcastically.

    "Oh... I see." He blinks at the explanation of why the temples were built. Magic must defeat magic, and all of that. Aedan leans back from the dirt drawing, nodding slowly. "Well," he says, "I don't think we really have any places of power up top that aren't skyloft itself. Might be I just don't know about what's there, though. Doesn't the place between shadows dominantly link back to the skyloft area?"

    Might have something to do with the Goddess living there for so long.

Aedan does in fact notice that Yalai is getting uncomfortable in the light. He jerks his head back towards the tunnel they came through to enter, "You want to find someplace a little more shady than this? Or... someplace a little more shady in here. Looks like your eyes are aggravated."

    The knight doesn't press the subject though, striding around the drawing to stand next to Yalai while he continues the conversation. He says, "So the Fire Temple is deep in the earth or in a volcano, I assume the Water Temple would be in fresh water so probably in a river... maybe also underground."

    Aedan reaches over to Yalai's cloak, drawing the hood up, both to help with the surrounding brightness and to emphasize the topic of his next question. "So what," He asks, "makes a Shadow Temple?"

Yalai the Stave (879) has posed:
A portable shelter would be ideal, but the most lightweight yurt would be too much weight for a Loftwing to handle. Even Aedan's, which is one of the largest and strongest Loftwings she knows of, wouldn't be able to fly with that kind of a load to account for -- the shelter would need to be built, moved, and deconstructed in stages. It would altogether be too much trouble for too little gain.

"It would be much easier if it were being only a Tektite," Yalai intones, frowning and scuffing out her drawing with the side of a boot. "That would be an easy matter of dealing with, yes? Burn it out, and be sure it is smelling the smoke. It will not be coming back... but these things are being more tenacious than that. You will be seeing them sooner or later, I suppose."

Holstering her quarterstaff again, she takes a step before rolling forward in a handstand, pushing herself straight as the trees that brace the walls. She regards the Rescue Knight upside-down, white hair pooled beneath her on the grass, almost cross-eyed from the particular angle.

Her lips thin in concentration; no doubt a comical expression with such an absurd position. "There are being places of power up there, too. But you Hylians are not knowing about them, safe and sound in your Skyloft. Yes, Skyloft itself is being one of them, but it is being only one among many. Do you know of the Thunderhead? There are being places in there, too. And there are being places over the temples, over the provinces... but not all of them are being places we want to be going. Some of them are being in enemy hands, too."

Straightening herself with a push-off from the ground, she lands lightly on her feet, several strides carrying her over to the shade. She seems a little more comfortable there. "We are not liking the light of day like you Hylians are." The Sheikah makes a face, drawing her cloak about her and seeming to melt, at least a little, into the shade of the courtyard wall.

"Mmhm. The Water Temple is being north of Faron, but it is not being underground. At least, not all of it. It is being near the home of the Parella; they were helping us to build it, in fact. The Shadow Temple is not underground, but it is being near a chasm. There is being little light. I am sure you would be having trouble seeing." Squinting a little as he draws the hood over her head, in part because it causes her hair to frizz a little, she taps at the corner of a red eye. "We are being made for that."

She eyes him, thoughtfully. "It is also being a place of hidden truths revealed; it is where we are taking those from whom we are needing answers," she adds, somewhat cryptically.

Aedan MacCarvill (891) has posed:
    "Any particular secret to killing /those/?" Aedan uses his boot to nudge the scuffed-out drawing in the dirt. "They can't be too simple to handle or you wouldn't want to be going about avoiding them." It's possible that he just misunderstood avoiding being around here at night with avoiding these things. At least he's paying attention to the hazards, though, even if he isn't quite piecing them together as-intended.

    He follows after Yalai as she performs her handstand, crouching down next to her so as to look her properly in the face. Yalai does this often enough that Aedan has a default reaction to it, and it is in fact to simply stroll alongside her and adjust himself so he can properly face her. At times, this is impossible. Right now though, the oddity of it and the normality with which the knight treats it would be humorous for any onlooker that didn't already know what was going on with the pair.

    Aedan wonders whether or not this looks all that funny to Sheikah, or if it is simply normal interaction.

    "Might be we know about them and I'm just an ignorant bumpkin. It happens sometimes. Pools of magic aren't exactly my area of expertise. Wouldn't wonder if some of those areas have a high concentration of potion-making ingredients, though..." Having said this, it occurs to Aedan to look around at the surrounding plants. Anything good...?

    "I wouldn't think so, with skin like yours. As Hylians go, I'm the same way, but I haven't got it as bad as you." Being redheaded has some drawbacks. There's a reason he covers up, even in cool weather.

Regarding the Shadow Temple, Aedan grins broadly and leans forward and against Yalai -- lightly, so as not to tip her over -- resting his head against hers. "So," he says, "what you're telling me is that's where you make bad little girls and boys disappear to in the dead of the night."

    They're dancing around the subject, a little. May as well join Yalai in speaking a little cryptically, even though they know full well what they're discussing.

    "And what does that make the Spirit Temple? A graveyard, I suppose."

Yalai the Stave (879) has posed:
The Sheikah shrugs, looking down at the smeared line where the stick-drawing of the monster had been. Eventually she shakes her head. "No. Not really. 'Be making them bleed a lot' is the best I can be thinking of. They are strong, cunning, and tough." She makes a face, not quite scowling. "I prefer not to be dealing with them if I am having a choice in the matter."

Straightening, she looks up as Aedan towers over her, bowing a little to rest his head against hers. "I am sure there is being something you can be using, here, yes? It seems you are having things anywhere you can be using in your potion-making." The Sheikah closes her eyes. "It is good to be having such a versatile craft, yes?" There's a pause; then, she twitches one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Most of my people are having darker skin than mine."

A slight shift of her weight and she's leaning against him, although the weight probably makes no difference to him. Her weight is a faction of his, at best; the Sheikah are light even as most normal Hylians go.

"Hmmmmm. Something like that, yes?" One of those red eyes flicks open, eyeing Aedan. "I was making /you/ disappear in the dead of night, to be hearing it from your Hylian friends. And now you have never been thinking right since." Her teeth show in a swift, feral grin. "Or maybe you have been thinking right since then, yes?"

She turns a little, leaning her head on his shoulder. "...Something like that, yes? Although it is being in the desert, and it is not being a graveyard only for our people. We are remembering everyone who has been lost to the King of Evil, there, from all tribes. We of the Shadow Folk are not being the only ones who visit there, either. It is not being a place of worship, or reverence; more... a place of remembering, I think."

Aedan MacCarvill (891) has posed:
    "Well, something that large would have anatomical weaknesses significantly larger than that of an ordinary beast. It's a problem that I have, actually... though not to that extreme." Aedan glances towards the scuffed up smear of a drawing again. With regards to his craft, the knight gives a little bit of a shrug and says, "Theoretically, but it's because the base potion is simply a potion of sympathy. You can stick anything in it and it will transfer the properties of one thing to another."

    "If I put poison oak in it, for instance, it would make my skin poisonous. Or just poison me, not sure which. Tends to /transfer/ traits, not consume them ordinarily." He carries on, reaching up to touch his cheek with a finger illustratively as he mentions becoming poisonous. Actually though, it seems like the sort of thing that one of the Sheikah would do deliberately.

    "So do mine, but I'm sure you noticed. It's alright, we can fry together. Or just stay out of the sun, as the case may be." It would be too awkward in their current position to look critically at the sky, but Aedan does look vaguely upwards in a pointed fashion as a substitute.

    "So they do, but there are different sorts of night-bound disappearances. There's the sort in which somebody never appears again, the sort in which children are replaced by animate dolls, and then there's /your/ kind." The knight draws back up to his full height, growing uncomfortable stooped down like that, and reaches up to tap Yalai lightly on the chin with a finger. "There are stories about your kind too. I suppose they could think I'm a soulless meatpuppet now, but mostly they just think I'm mad."

    "Hn? How many tribes /are/ there? Or... would it be 'were' there?"

Yalai the Stave (879) has posed:
"Not if they are having enough armour." Yalai wobbles a hand noncommittally. "There is being more of them to hit, but they are also being difficult to be killing because of that. Most of the dark creatures like that are being like juggernauts, yes? Scales, armour, hide to turn aside arrows and spears. Like dragons, only they are being without an ounce of wisdom."

The Sheikah squints a little, because the idea of drinking a potion that has poison oak in it sounds like a really astonishingly stupid thing to do. Maybe there's a Sheikah out there who would be crazy enough to do it, but that Sheikah definitely isn't her. She has more sense than that.

"Better to be staying out of the sun. Fortunately, the weather is being milder on your sky-islands." While seasons aren't unheard of, they tend to be less pronounced in Skyloft and other places. Rain and snow aren't familiar to most sky folk, since their water tends to be collected from dew. Skyloft itself is above the level of rainstorms -- but the Sheikah are familiar with the surface, and while Yalai herself had not had much experience with snow, she's familiar with seasonal weather patterns. "A good place to be taking refuge from the sun."

Her head twitches up and back when she's tapped on the chin, but not because he actually pulls her. She's watching him as he does, red eyes speculative when he talks about different sorts of disappearances, and questions her about the tribes.

In Sheikah fashion, she utterly ignores clarifying the matter of what kind of disappearance she's talking about. He can figure it out for himself; it's a skill he's gotten a little better at, since taking a Sheikah for a lover and choosing to be more open to the bizarre and circuitous culture of the Shadow Folk.

To answer his question of the tribes, she holds up a hand, fingers splayed, to show thumb and four fingers equally.

"There are being the Mogma and Goron of Eldin, the Kikwi and Parella of Faron, and we of the Shadow Folk. Five. They are living on the surface, still, and they are carrying on the fight where they are being able; they are being better suited to certain places than we are. No one is knowing the forest like the Kikwi, and no one is knowing the fiery heart of the mountain like the Mogma."

Aedan MacCarvill (891) has posed:
    "Didn't know dragons are supposed to be wise. Usually that's how we think about owls."

    Aedan doesn't notice Yalai's dubious squinting about the idea of drinking poison oak. Ordinarily it really would be a fantastically bad idea, but that is the beauty of certain kinds of potions. Ordinarily it would be tremendously stupid to go into battle, but armor makes it significantly less risky! It's the same idea with potions. Either way, he already knows she doesn't like some of his strange concotions.

    Not even the verified safe ones! Rotten eggs don't taste /that/ bad...

    "The weather is milder, but there's not much natural cover from the sun." He points out, plainly. "So do you prefer less varied weather with a little more sun, or more varied weather with a lot less sun?" Between the two, Aedan would be forced to confess that he likes Skyloft too much to pick the surface by comparison. Not that it isn't /nice/, but it sure isn't /home/... and anyway, you can defeat the sun by going inside.

    There's really no need to discuss the specific kind of disappearances. The knight sincerely doubts that any place called the Shadow Temple is a place of good times, though if that's the case he must wonder why one would bother making it a temple at all. Isn't it a sort of desecration to conduct that sort of business in the name of the Goddesses? Or perhaps the idea is to conduct it out of their sight.

    "Kikwi. Those are the little leaf men, right? I don't recognize any of the others... probably seen 'em, though, you've dragged me around to enough places. Why aren't there any above the old cloud barrier, though? Isn't it a little tilted to have left all of these tribes down here?" He ponders aloud. Especially with vicious armored giants roaming around.

Yalai the Stave (879) has posed:
"Some of them are being wise. Some of them are being stupid." Yalai shrugs, sidling back toward the shade of the wall and flopping down, leaning back against the huge hewn stones. "They are being rather like people that way, yes? Some are being powerful. Some are not."

Her hand flicks in beckoning gesture, signalling for him to join her. It's the kind of sun-dappled shade that practically begs to be flopped in.

"More varied weather, with a little less sun." The Sheikah shows her teeth again. "I am not liking the sun and I am not seeing so well in it; which do you think I will be choosing?" She prefers dusk, too, but alas, that time of day is doomed to be fleeting at best.

"Mmmhm. Just so. They are being skittish, though, and not so accepting of strangers. It could be that I could be having them come out to meet you, but you are so very big to them." She flashes that feral grin again. "Perhaps they might be thinking you intend to be eating them, yes? Frightened little things."

She tilts her head, faintly. "Because they did not want to be going. The tribes were being unanimous. They were staying to be fighting."

Aedan MacCarvill (891) has posed:
    "Do you know where I could find some dragon molts?"

    Aedan isn't entirely certain whether or not that concept will translate fluidly for Yalai. It's such a specific term, related to such a specific thing, that it wouldn't surprise him if it was too specialized to have been taught to her. For that matter, he's not certain that the Sheikah would have a word for it either. Or if they did, he's certain that it would be somehow linguistically related to their word for /flaying/.

    Might be he's wrong.

    Might be what he's implying is too disgusting to get a response.

    The knight takes off his cloak, spreading it across the down and flopping down on the ground next to Yalai without further prompting. As always, he rattles when he hits the ground. Might be more comfortable if he /wasn't/ wearing all of that crap, but it would be a pain to peel it off and then put it back on just to leave.

    "I think you'd choose whatever was home to you, even if the other environment was more comfortable. I suppose it's just as well. We're going to fully migrate down here before long, and staying up top won't make a hell of a lot of sense. I'm sure, one day in the distant future..."

    "... Some lunatic with a machine will re-discover the long-lost flying islands, and marvel that anybody ever bothered to come down to the surface. Wonder if the habit of keeping Loftwings will die off for something a little more... I don't know. Groundy."

    "Eh...?! /Eating/ them? I guess I'm big enough to make a salad out of them, but still... don't make too much of a habit of eating things that can talk at me. Then again, maybe that's the problem." He meanders, gesturing into the trees, "/Can/ they talk? Or... they must communicate somehow..."

    Aedan just looks vaguely uncomprehending at the notion that the rest of these people didn't want to leave the land below. Wasn't it supposed to be /unlivable/ back in the day? Why stick around?

Yalai the Stave (879) has posed:
"Dragon molts?" Yalai stares in that blank way she has when she doesn't fully grasp something.

To be certain, she probably understands a lot more than she lets on. Sometimes she does it just to mess with him, because Sheikah are harder to read than Hylians, and it isn't always clear where the lines of understanding are drawn. With an edge case like this, it's anybody's game. Yalai seems to carry with her some pretty esoteric and bizarre knowledge, sometimes, and her linguistic skills aren't nearly as poor as her strange accent might imply.

She shrugs, but the gesture is dismissive enough that it doesn't really suggest one way or the other. She might just be dismissing the topic, or she might be implying that she doesn't know where any dragons are to be found. It could also be that she's implying that he's crazy for asking.

Aedan's probably better off just choosing his own interpretation.

"I am not knowing that." She shrugs at his conjecture, leaning back against the cool stone of the wall. "The Kikwi are shy, and skittish; they are being among the least warlike of the surface tribes. But they are knowing things that were being of help to us, when the sky islands were being raised... no one is knowing the forest as they do."

She glances sidelong to the dappled shadows. "Pathfinding, and confounding the wood against the things which are not belonging to it, or are not having its permission to be passing through, yes? Like the Parella are being to their watery realm." Can the trees talk? She shrugs again, eyes half-closing. It's a great spot for a nap, and the temples are safe. "Ask them."

Chances are she's probably just being facetious with him.

Probably.

Aedan MacCarvill (891) has posed:
    "Okay, so you know how it is when some of your skin-- actually, nevermind."

    Yalai has previously expressed a distaste for the things that Aedan will put in his body, or the bodies of others. While he'd like to press the subject, it might be worthwhile to question another of the Sheikah, who is less openly grossed out by his requests. At any rate, it's far too nice right now to spoil the mood with advanced potionmaking ideas.

    After a few moments, the knight decides, "It seems passing strange that no Hylians chose to remain behind on the surface. I suppose it's always been perfectly inhabitable... but if there have always been people down here fighting, why was it necessary to create a separate world that they couldn't take part in? And why was it necessary that we not be able to fight back?"

    "Do you suppose," He ponders, "that Hylia herself simply grew tired of having to deal with it all? I suppose that if you /were/ an immortal deity, you'd get pretty tired of looking down on the world and finding all of... this going on. But if that's so, why partition it off in only one way? Why not... I don't know."

    "Why not just conceal everyone and everything in the Sacred Realm? You could use those weird /things/ in there as a defense." Aedan has mercifully only been in there in short fits and bursts, when Yalai needed to drag him through for whatever reason. He is unaware, for instance, that the bizarre-looking water there cannot be touched without inviting the wrath of the guardians and in fact, that this suggests the Goddess did not /want/ anyone to be able to live there at all, much less for a very long time.

Yalai the Stave (879) has posed:
"Because you Hylians were being annihilated," Yalai points out, half-closing her eyes and letting the light and dappled shadow blur together. "No one was going to be remaining in what was a slaughtering ground, yes? The enemy was seeing your people as weak, and so they were being hunted, like animals; hit so hard and so fast there was being no defense against it."

"According to our lore, Her Grace was raising Skyloft and was establishing the cloud barrier so you could be having a sanctuary." She shrugs, closing her eyes fully. Caught by the breeze, some of her white hair drifts over her face, but she ignores it. "It was that, or be killed. She was not doing it out of boredom; she was doing it because she was having no way to be fighting on so many fronts, yes? She could not be fighting the King of Evil while safeguarding her chosen people. And there were not being enough of we of the Shadow Folk to be defending you. Those were being bloody times," she comments, softly.

Her eyes open just faintly, slits of red, as he suggests living in the Silent Realms. She snorts, hair fluttering. "A fine idea. And are you knowing what is happening if you are touching the water there? The Guardians and Watchers will be on you as though you were a servant of the King of Evil himself. It is being a warning. And Goddesses only know what happens if one is being fool enough to be drinking it." She snorts again, closing her eyes. "Silent Realm, indeed. We are being given Her Grace's blessing to be travelling through it, and some of our kind are even meditating there, in times of trouble, but there cannot be any living there." Aside from undrinkable water, there wouldn't be anything to eat.

"Besides... Her Grace was not creating the Silent Realm. The Silent Realm was being there long before that. Perhaps it was being created by Farore, or Nayru; I am not knowing." She shrugs. "Perhaps I should be asking Loremaster Ikram that."

Aedan MacCarvill (891) has posed:
    "But that's what I mean... we can't be that much different /now/... so why-- ah, never mind. It is what it is." Aedan waves off the topic. He doesn't understand how the Hylians of now could be so much better at defending themselves against what lies below. Perhaps they're not, and the demons of Hyrule are simply far reduced in power from what they once were. He is neither historian or sage, so there's no real telling from his perspective. It just doesn't click.

    "W-well, no... what happens?"

    "... Huh?! Why is the water there booby trapped like that? And why would you even /make/ a realm like that, if nothing is supposed to exist in it ordinarily?" This, too, makes no sense to the knight. All this mysticism, realms united, realms cut off, demon armies. Maybe he just can't imagine the scope of it all, or maybe it's a lot more complicated than they've ever been told, and the stories are simplified to make them easy to understand.

    Aedan MacCarvill doesn't know. He probably won't ever. All he has to go off are books he doesn't read and what Yalai, and others tell him. He issues a great big puff of air, and then turns over so that he rests closer to Yalai.

    "What a dreary, nasty history all of /that/ is... well... you look like you're ready for a nap. I think /I'm/ ready for a nap. Try not to dream about anything we just talked about." He reaches over, ruffling Yalai's hair lightly, and then falls silent.

Yalai the Stave (879) has posed:
"They were being much stronger, and more numerous, in those days." Yalai lets her eyes drift until they're closed. "You Hylians were having no chance against them. That is why Skyloft is existing. It is a sanctuary. And since the days when Link was sealing the King of Evil, those minions being left behind are being weaker than they were in those dark days, yes...?"

The Sheikah lifts a brow when Aedan expresses his shock over the Silent Realm's water. Her expression is skeptical. "You are asking me as though I am having all of the answers. May I be reminding you that I am being an /apprentice/ Loremaster only? Yes? I am not having those answers. I do not even know if Loremaster Ikram is having those answers." Closing her eyes again, she reaches up and tweaks the big knight's nose, even as he ruffles her hair. "There are being mysteries and secrets even we of the Shadow Folk are knowing, difficult as that may be to be thinking."

"Mhm." This, to being ready for a nap. A nap sounds pretty good. She's tired and sun-drunk, and the desire to do anything has conveniently buried itself under a rock. Nothing seems terribly important right now. "Dream of nothing," she says, reaching up and tracing her fingers along the line of his cheekbone. Her ritual bid of good-night might seem strange, to some.

Then again, with the things some of the Sheikah have seen, maybe it's more merciful than outsiders might think.

"We will go to the Fire Temple some time soon," Yalai murmurs, curling up and resting her head on his chest. "Then the Water Temple, the Shadow Temple, the Spirit Temple... I will be showing all of them to you. But right now... a nap is sounding good," she observes, letting her blood-red eyes slide closed.

Yalai doesn't add anything else. She's already fast asleep.