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month record rogue 3 6 1
She still remembers the joy of meeting her silver-haired, pointy-eared compatriots.
She still remembers the amber home of the Elves, dangling within that hollow, wrapped by layers upon layers of the Great Tree's roots.
With thoughts and words alone, those living abodes could change their structure and clean themselves.
The plant-furniture born among them either got along well with their masters or complained about them in private; and after a long day's work, would gather around to share gossip.
While the Samifjod were still trying to decipher Sami's warnings through their Foldartals, the Elves were able to commune directly. When they heard Sami's response, they clung fast to the rock walls, tending to the scars of the land by growing plants or drawing runes.
They rarely left the embrace of the Great Tree, singing and dancing among the branches in the early morning, spreading nature across the craggy walls after a midday respite, and listening to the music woven by the plants and studying the words and notes handed down from the past by nightfall.
Their lives are simple yet profound. A faint sense of familiarity brushes across Muelsyse's sensitive nerves.
But even these fragments of familiarity are sufficient to make her realize something else.
Here, she is an anomaly.
This is not a fairytale land where people can connect with one another simply by being of the same kind.
What Muelsyse had to confront is an entire cultural ecosystem spanning tens of thousands of years.
Almost everything Muelsyse knows comes from the environment and education of Columbia.
To be able to understand one another, both sides must undertake tremendous effort.
Yet at the same time, what the Elves can offer her pales in comparison to what Kristen promised.
So, she ultimately decided to leave.
Taking with her confusion, doubt, and loneliness.
