The little female moved smoothly through the forest, her eyes trained on the world that she was moving through, following tiny trails that well-trained eyes picked out from the subtle tread down grass, a broken limb on a bush, tuff of fur tangled in a low brush. Little signs that marked previous travel, and it was these unknown paths that the tiny doe was intent to follow, not the well placed constantly seen ones that others seemed to take. A well-trekked path usually lost all hints and clues that might be found, and would usually lead you to tourist-trap like locations. Following the game trails and more hidden paths as Cally was doing now, those were the ones that would surprise you . . . and she wanted to find good surprises.

The voice suddenly echoing in the air was not what the little doe was expecting as a surprise though, and she froze at the ringing out hello. The voice seemed sweet enough, but Cally's ears pinned at the touch of warning in the under-currents. Slowly the little doe cautiously broke free from the brush. One hoof first, cloven and dew claws prominent and followed by her deer-ish face poking free, unicorn horn gleaming in a ray of sunlight, as the small deer antlers tucked on the inside of her dual set of ears matching the unicorn horn's dark brown hue. Green eyes turned towards the mare, and her eyes soon lit on the quiver and bow the mare carried.

Instantly any greeting was forgotten as the little half deer-half horse hybrid broke free of the rest of the bush, shaking off her ten hand height as she stared at the mare in shock and delight, "You have a bow and quiver!" Her delighted cry might not be normal for one who has a glowing arrow ready to be strung on a bow and aimed her way, but Cally was hardly focusing on that, "You must tell me where you can get one! Oh, I beg of you! Mine got left on the wrong-side of the portal thing that brought me here." She paused then, her features dropping slightly in the level of delight it showed, clearly remembering that horrible portal, "That portal left a good deal on the wrong side of it, at least." And she wasn't to pleased with what it'd done to her either. Transformations. Horrid mutilation of her own magic, ripped from her and locked out of her reach. Occasionally she could feel it's hum, as if it was trying to break free to do what she wished of it again, but when ever she tried to reach out to that nature-based ability, it was always just too far out of reach.

Suddenly Cally's expression cleared again as she stared up at the stranger, "Oh dear, forgive my manners. My name is Callynite, but I prefer Cally. I'm not usually so . . . rude in initial greetings, your bow startled me." Cally apologized and introduced herself in the same breath, dipping her head lightly in greeting, her little doe tail lowering itself from where it had rose with her earlier excitement. The little doe then glanced at the mare curiously that slowly turns more cautious as she realized the arrow is indeed glowing as if needed, and she managed an almost awkward laugh as she added once more, "Ah, and please, don't shoot me. I'm just your normal dr- erm, wayward explorer." She visibly flinches as the words were cut off in mid-speech, another violent reminder of what that portal had done to her, trapping her magic and cutting her off from her druid-path. The flinch had momentarily introduced the flicker of despair at her situation before the slate was wiped clean again and she a friendly smile in place once more. She had company, no point in thinking on what was lost and losing her thoughts into that depressive state . . . she was better than that anyways. She had to find a way home somehow.

"Speech"
@isra

The former druid had moved forward with hesitation, her steps cautious, her expression carefully neutral as she broke free of the brush and lining vegetation of the path, her eyes on the other. Her steps were easy and light, an echo of the deer she had been before the corrupted magic had twisted her being. She refuses to focus on that, least she swell with anger and indignation. Instead her eyes alight upon the other, noting the eyes of the ocean reflecting back on her, eyes sweeping over the mare and recognizing her from the coagulation of souls upon the sands when the stories of Tempus had first been sung to her (a face to one of the gods who might have played a role in her transportation through space and reality (or was it sub reality, or perhaps interdimensional . . . she still wasn’t sure).

As the two met, Cally’s eyes watched almost in melancholy at the changes the earth around the others’ hooves. It was a deep pain that echoed through the depths of her being, watching the growth of the grass, thick and she yearns for that familiar whisper, the soft greeting of blade to blade. It’s another reminder of the sudden silence she found herself in. The world no longer sung to her, the trees no longer shared their gossip and attention, the flowers never paid her compliments while fishing for their own, brush no longer sassed at her when she moved through them. It was a world of silence, of disconnection. The music of the earth no longer serenaded her through the day, and she yearned for the subtle hum and gentle sounds she hadn’t known she’d ever miss.

Her gaze is ripped from the changing of earths, and instead returns to focus on the mare, watching her smile turn kindly, almost motherly if one was watching for it. Cally, who’d never known a kind and loving motherly smile recognizes not, but she does note the kindness and returns it in equal measure, her own oddly designed muzzle turning up, her half equine-half cervinae features meshing together into a face that was built like a horse, but with the gentleness and grace of the deer. She dips her head, light flashing equally from the long, straight horn between her eyes, as well as the smaller doe antlers tucked beside her cervidae ears. “I wouldn’t know if it’s the island making us weird, or if it’s our apprehension of the island.” She responded, and her gaze turns to the surrounding forest and for a moment she wonders what the forest might say to her, had her powers not been locked so firmly away.

Would it speak in warning and riddles, trying to encourage her to leave? Would it whisper seductions to lead her deeper into trouble? Would it hear abuse at her, as if to wound her with their very words? A moment of bitterness crosses her face, hating that there was no way of knowing, she couldn’t feel the forest around her, let alone even hoping to listen. She was grateful when the mare spoke, drawing her attention back from those thoughts, grateful for any reason not to ponder on could bes, and what ifs. She smiled lightly in greeting, “Cally.” There’s no full name spoken, as she starts to borrow the other’s patterns of speaking little, but saying enough. It feels fitting for their setting. She wonders briefly if this creature, who had access to obvious magic could feel more from their environment than an ex-druid with powerful earthen magic buried deeper in her than one would have thought possible, so deep even the hum of her magic was lacking in her soul.

An offer was than extended that had Cally’s eyes widening faintly in surprise, even as she nodded her agreement. What was a slightly painful story compared to a missing piece of herself – for she did consider the magic-stolen bow and druid staff just as powerful a piece of her as her trapped magic. “It is quite a story, I suppose I shall start with a bit of background. I’m not the creature you see before you . . . this body is merely the outcome of the twisted, corrupted magic of that portal. I was a deer, from a place called the Thicket, where magic ran deep and affected us all. In my home world I’m a fairly powerful user of earthen magic, druid magic; an aid for my career of exploration and discovery." It was a brief touch of what her world was, and no mention of the Disirax was made, no point in making a reality free of the beast aware such a creature existed.

Her story now turned to the portal, “I was exploring a new cave system – perhaps foolish to do on my own, but I was no fawn getting my hooves wet for the first time. Venturing far enough in, I came across an odd room with paintings on the wall, crude – more stick figures than elaborate masterpieces. But it told a story of gods and betrayal, of suspicion and discord. Of a faint peace that balanced on the edge of war. With the knowledge I have gained so far of these lands, it appears to be a brief touch of the pantheon here. But at the farthest end of the cavern was the portal. Made of carved stone, it had words etching around the side, though I’d have to think to remember what they said. The portal itself seemed to be suspended liquid. I remember it being cool to the touch when I had first put my nose to it.”

As she had spoken, her own unicorn horn had been lit by a green glow that spoke of experience in handling magic, as she lifted a small twig and drew what she remembered the portal looking like in the dirt between them – a rough quick shape, a skill drawn from having to sketch up quick maps while exploring to share her discoveries with others. “I had shifted forms, a druid ability to take the shape of a beast of the earth; and had sniffed out the entire portal in hopes of discovering what it may be, before throwing caution to the wind and stepping towards.” Her expression grew more haunted as she spoke softly, “It was . . . horrible. Cold and stuck in some sort of limbo. Wild and unfamiliar magic was warping me, and it wasn’t until my own magic fought back that the attack escalated. In hindsight I’m certain the magic was attempting to morph me into a more horse-liken form, but my magic had started to counter the effects, as it was being locked away and out of reach. I ended up in this half state you see now . . . But in the process, upon waking in this odd world, I discovered every druid ability I had, the magic and kinship to the earth I had cherished my whole life, had been locked and buried deep within me.”

Her eyes turned icy, glinting like cold emeralds as her tone seemed to darken, “You’ll have to excuse me if I’ve come to the decision that I’m not fond of those this land call gods. And I’ve developed a severe hatred for the magic that forced me from my world, and trapped me in a form not my own before ripping away a large part of my soul when it bound my magic far from my reach.” The darkness slowly drained, her words said before she glanced towards the beautiful weapon, having watched the change from stone to gold. She approached with almost caution, as if not believing it to be real. It wasn’t the bow she missed, but it was certainly a beautiful creation, and a part of her wondered how long the transformation would last. She merely glanced at Isra, before bowing her head until her delicate muzzle touched her chest, “Thank you. It’s beautiful. How long does your transfigurations last?”


"Speech"
@isra . I'm fairly shocked with her sudden seriousness, it doesn't come through often.

In a way, this new world had twisted a part of the little doe. Gone was the carefree and playful creature she had been, hardened by the brutal awakening of trapped in another world with out her appearance as a familiar face, or even her magic to let her touch nature and feel the familiar embrace of the natural world around her. Gone was the reliance that a single shout would have a herd of deer approaching with aid, weapons at the ready. Gone was the knowledge that any new face was with out a new friend. Sure, she'd escaped some terrors of her own world . . . but the more she learned of Novus - or it's pantheon, the more certain she was that she'd traded one troublesome creature that was easily outsmarted for a range of gods who could smite you because it was tuesday and there was a rainbow on the wrong side of the sky. Well, perhaps not for that reason alone - but Cally couldn't help to feel like even the island of itself was just a foolish trick, or game to play on the mortals. Sending them into a clearly dangerous island that had appeared as if by magic and fire, with dangerous creatures in the foliage, on a wild game of chance that they JUST MIGHT stumble upon a relic. Cally found the entire event: laughable.

Yes, gone was the doe who would have shrugged off the consequences and banded together a party to search for the relic just for the chance to explore the island. She'd turned into a shade of that creature thanks to the story of her arrival to Novus. She sure loved to explore, yes; and it was why she stayed on the island - to hunt through it - but that carefree, fun-loving attitude was defaced with blazing fury to the gods, and a hardness that would likely aid her when she found the path to regain her abilities. She might be powerless now - but she wasn't going to bow to the hand given to her . . . she would rise up and fight back.

She appeared to not be the only one with a troubled story - she could read it in the way the eyes of the mare seemed to darken with her own black thoughts, before the cerulean spheres where closed of by the shutting of her eyes. Only when air whistles through her horn, surprising the green and brown doe and having her glance at the horn with a new, more inquisitive light in her eyes - startled and delighted by such a neat mutation - does her company seem to pull herself out of where her mind had taken her. There is a weak smile to her features, as she aided in pushing the bow a little closer to Cally.

Just the light touch of the familiar weapon settled the former druid, some of the constant tension leaving her body as the tiny creature stared down at the priceless gift - not for the craftmanship of the item, but for what the item meant to her. Her weapon of choice, a way to protect herself from dangerous creatures, a defensive utensil that was as comfortable to her as her own skin . . . sorry, former skin. She is testing it with her telekenetic abilities, both working the bow as well as the abilities themselves as she'd found even they had been weakened by her arrival in Novus. She draws back the string, releasing the magic holding the bow posed and watching it snap back with a solid sound with out even a waiver of the bow itself. She stops her experimentation at the others' words then, startled by the understanding - and yet relieved someone else understands.

Cally watched as the weak smile grew a little more wild, a little more reckless, and Cally tilted her head at the presentation of the mare, a certain danger and wildness reflected from the smile, the shift of a storm in her eyes. Cally lets the bow sink back to the ground, perching it in an easy and practiced manner so it rests against one foreleg. "Sometimes I think gods forget we aren't just toys to be played with, and even small changes when important enough can be catalysts." The doe speaks softly, though there's that ever present darkness that has grown in her soul regarding the situation.

The doe would be lying if she claimed to understand the next part of the other's words. She fought and clung so hard to who she was, had been, and lost; she gave little thought to the gods trying to make her into what she was supposed to be . . . but she also knew the only familiarity in her own skin came from her own magic's desperate bid to keep her as true to herself even while it was being bound back and buried deep with in her. She was certain, had her magic not reacted and retaliated, she'd speaking to the other as a horse and living a lie. Cally was a deer, and no god would make her believe otherwise. "While I am glad you feel as if this is what you're supposed to be . . . I don't know if I'd be able to agree to such thoughts, especially if my own magic hadn't halted my transformation process . . ." She admits with a simple tone, not to bothered one way or another on the idea of accepting herself as she was now. She was still far too new in her new shape anyways. Any form of acceptance would come with time, and she hand't had enough of it yet.

The other steps closer then, explaining that the bow will last until her will asked of it to be something else. Suddenly the bow shifted where it rested against Cally, changing from a sword, to a dead branch, and then back into the bow. Surprised, the doe reached low with her nose, touching it softly, even as her dual sets of ears shifted - one towards the crow, one towards the wild back. A flash of her former self entered her eyes as she mentally cataloged where the sounds came from, the distance the sound of such creatures would require to travel, where the dangers were in correlation to herself. It was instinctive reaction, drawn from her many adventures and explorations in her home world, a required method of being aware of the world and the dangerous its possessed.

The doe tilts her head when the other speaks again, offer to help in her hunt for her druid magic, and the female nods, her expression shifting into a form of something akin to hope, but not so far lost from the darkness to be the look of a fool. It's a guarded look, a cautious one, but hope none the less, "I would accept the help, gladly. I won't rest until it's found and recovered. Another's assistance should make it that much faster to return." She stated with a gentle dip of her head in appreciation.

She doesn't know how this place may have twisted her magic, but Cally refused to see herself as complete with out it. It was who she was, a druid, and with out her magic . . . she felt like nothing . . . and she cursed the ones who made her that way.

"Speech"
@isra . I feel like Novus is going to turn her a bit darker than she was before. I don't think I ever realized how much I implemented that connection of the earth into her character until the simple things are there no more LOL