Judge Me Not For My Race.(Open)

[Harlet]

The day was sunny and warm, the perfect weather for a mid day rest. Water foul, tame and wild alike, floated on the lake's surface as the liquid reflected the brilliant light from the sun that warmed the skin of any who stepped out of doors. A breeze tugged so lovingly and gentle at the emerald blades of grass and matching leaves. The earth seemed to sigh, pleased with its own beauty... The Mother Goddess seemed to favor this day above the others that had been so windy and chilled.
Beneath a large willow tree whose branches hung into the crystalline shallows of Lonea Lake lay a girl and a wolf... Or, to be more precise, a young female Drow and her Demonic companion. Today, her hair was spread out around her, snowy wisps rejoicing of their freedom from the tight braid the traveling High Priestess usually wore. All around her, the earth sang. Even Illiamcryl's soft snoring was harmonious to the Goddess's song.
As peaceful as it was beside the lake, hidden as they were beneath the willow, sleep would not come to Chalaun. Her amethyst eyes watched the long, whip-like branches sway in the water. She rested on her side, her head on the Demon's shoulder as if he were a pillow. Surprisingly, she was not wearing her usual garments. A man's white shirt, long sleeved and opened at the chest for she had not tied it closed, covered her chest and brestband. Around her waist was a thin, almost sheer cloth of lavender. At her hip, it tied and fell open in a slit to reveal her hip and leg to the world.
White hair and pelt mingled and mixed, sunlight and shadows caring not where Drow hair began and Demon-wolf fur ended. Not far away, resting against the willow tree's trunk, were her weapons; the staff named Jhul, the dagger Umrae, the sword Hurz, and the whip Sol. All four shimmered and sparkled in the patches of light that hit them. She knew exactly where they were, but still she felt the need to raise her head and look back at them... She had to make sure that they were there.
Some how, as he rested her head against her friend once more, the young woman felt suddenly dozy. But it soon passed as a duck called to his comrades just outside the screen of leaves. Eventually, her mind began to wander. Fifty-two years had passed since she and Illiamcryl decided to leave the Underdark for the surface world. The day she entered this world of light and adventure, she had also converted to the ways of the Mother Goddess. But her training had not been in vain; No, the Mother had taken her in as a Daughter of the Earth and made her into a High Priestess. Now, happyness came in the simplest of things for Chalaun and Illiamcryyl.

[Torrential]

Roril V'radril strolled silently along the banks of Lonea Lake, his hands habitually upon the hilts of his scimitars. The sunlight was strong, weakening Roril, for he was of the Underdark, where sunlight was nonexistent. Since he had dwelt upon the Surface for so long, he had become accustomed to the sun's draining effects. Roril stared into the depths of the lake, pondering his banishment from the Underdark so many years ago.

It was nightfall according to the magical dial of his town. Roril, finishing up with a long day of intense melee training, made for home. Upon his arrival, his mother, Matron Seyla, became enraged with him for reasons Roril knew not. It was then the Matron ordered Roril's three sisters to attack their younger brother with their weapons of choice: Snake-headed whips. Roril, unable to counter his loving sisters due to a completely matriarchal society, forcibly accepted his punishment until his back was torn raw. Matron Seyla proceeded to banish Roril from the Underdark forevermore, cursed to a fate of traversing the Surface until he took his dying breath.

Even now, Roril thought, I have no idea why I was exiled from my homeland. Why was my mother enraged with me so? What could I have possibly done to deserve such severe punishment? The possibilities horrified Roril, and he could bear to think of the matter no longer. The one thing the Drow wanted was for everything to return to normal, as it was before...to the life he had once led.

As Roril focused back on the physical world, he stopped in his tracks. Lying under a tree with a wolverine companion was a woman. But she was not just a woman.

She was a Drow.

Immediately, Roril grew excited. What if she's a rogue Drow like me? Roril weighed the possibilities, and cursed himself. No, no, such a thought is foolish, he assured himself. But then Roril's thoughts turned grave. What if she's with my mother, searching for me on the surface? What if a time of pain and agony awaits me once more? Roril deeply thought out his predicament, and in the end decided that a chance for companionship and trust far outweighed any chances of evil and deceit.

Roril approached the woman and unbelted his scimitars. As he threw them upon the ground, Roril bent low and kneeled to the Drow woman, respecting the traditions upon which he was raised.

"Mistress."I actually didn't screw it up this time! -

[Harlet]

The sound of footsteps did not surprise or worry her. Many others would be out at this time. But the voice of a man, speaking to her!, startled the young woman. Fine muscles tensed as dark fingers tangled into her wolf's fur. As a Priestess, she had learned many mind skills. Now, she went into her friend's subconscious and urged him into a deeper sleep. If she needed him, he would awake.
With a great mental sigh, she forced herself to roll over and face the stranger who knelt just a few feet away. Something she'd never have expected here at the Lonea. Instinctively she went to reach for one of her weapons, but they were too faraway to reach. 'No need, it seems,' the young traveler thought as she sat up and saw the twin blades on the ground. "Do not keel before me, Brethren. I do not demand the respect from men that my former sisters do."
Standing, she looked over the drow. Even down on his knee, Chalaun knew he was much taller than even most of the Fair -- Not to mention their own kind... And attractive. This was good, oh very good. She did so tier of human males that treated her as lesser. Perhaps she could convince this one to see her as equal? "I am Chalaun. My friend over here is Illiamcryl. I will let him sleep a little longer..."
'Until I am sure of this male.' Amethyst orbs watched this tall man. Envy crept into her veins as she saw his dark skin... So much darker than her own. It made her feel like a half-breed, with her skin being so light. 'Fifty-two years and he's the first man of my own race I've seen that hasn't cried for mercy or tried to kill me!' The thought made her laugh outright. Soft bells tinkling in a summer breeze.

[Torrential]

Roril let slip a gasp. Did she just say not to kneel before her? And did she call me "Bretheren"? Roril was utterly confused. Not once did he meet a Drow female who put aside differences that have shaped Drow society since the dawn of time and called for equality. Although Roril was all for equality, he had trouble trusting the woman, who apparently was called Chalaun. Besides, thought Roril, that wolf looks like a formidable beast. Roril didn't want to show his uneasiness, so he went along with Chalaun's words.

Roril rose and faced Chalaun eye-to-eye, a move that would have turned fatal had it been anyone else. However, Roril decided it was best to leave his scimitars upon the ground. "Forgive me, then, Chalaun. I did not think that a Drow woman such as yourself would be against the teachings of old." Roril gestured toward the sleeping wolf, Illiamcryl. "A fine companion you have there. I am sure he's seen many a great battle."

Roril decided to change the subject at hand. "So, Chalaun, what drove you to the Surface?"

[Harlet]

His confusion slightly pleased her, for she enjoyed having an upper hand in case that the situation turned sticky. But his waryness of Illiamcryl made her proud. So many men had died due to their pride telling them that the wolf was a lesser being -- No ore powerful or divine than a mortal's curr-dog. 'Perhaps,' she thought as she looked up at the man before her, 'he will bring us no ill will?' "Yes, he has seen more of the world than I have. Illiamcryl is very experianced in the world and saved me when I was just a baby."

And now he wished to know her reasons?! What was she to say? 'Oh, yes, well... I was tiered of my family and the misstrust my parents passed down to me as assasins!' No, that would not sound right. Would it? How about, 'I converted my beleifs!' No, just as bad. "You know how High Priestesses can be. A girl can only take so much. Please, sit." She herself sat down and leaned up against the Wolf. Nudging the great beast's shoulder, she told him to awake; The comand ws obeyed. Swiftly, she explained to him what was going on.

"He wishes to know your name." she relayed Illiamcryl's request kindly, as though talking to an old friend.