The Duskmire Wood was dank, filled with darkness and danger. By far it was not the place one would commonly find people traveling. It was home to scores of unsavory creatures, dangerous sinkholes and a generally unwelcoming aura. It was not somewhere any typical person would choose to wander, let alone live.

But Shaecayrn was not the typical person. Like so many pther creatures, the Duskmire was her home. One of them at least. It was one of a few places she would stay for more than three days. To the hoe she had built there, she now returned.

The woman walked carefully along paths she knew as well as rhe other denizens of the forest that roamed them. Her dark coloring put her as a shadow within the shadow of the foliage. But as she walked, cloaked and hooded, her eyes caught sight of something she did not expect. Another person stoof within her wood.

A whispered word, and the light bent around her, enveloping her in shadows. Quietly, she slipped closer to the stranger, hiding within the shadows along the way, until a sharp crack broke the stillness. She looked down, and glowered at the offending stick under her foot. There was no use sneaking now. Dark eyes studied Djinn for a moment before she allowed the shadows to melt away from her body.

The hooded woman's face was as dark as the shadows that hid it, save for the gleaming silver tattoo around her eye. Her voice drifted across the air to the fae, cold and calculated. "Your presence is unwelcome here, stranger. It wuld be better for all if you left by the same path you entered."

Silently, she hoped he would obey. But life was rarely so kind.

Her eyes looked over him as he turned, studying him even as henstudied her. He looked elven, but rarely had she found elves wandering the Duskmire. As he propped his lance over his shoulder and shot her what would be considered a jaunty, charming smile, she just blinked. Was he onw of those who thought he would be able to charm his way into her good graces? Hopefully not. Shaecayrn listened silently as he spoke, though, his words of a rogue kelpie catching her attention.

He had come at the pleading of a child. Who could possibly resist that? -How sweet.- The thought dripped sarcasm, and his head tilted, like a curious dog as his smile turned more curious than charming. Again he spoke, inviting her along, and offering his hand in greeting as he introduced himself. She looked at his hand, pale in the darkness, and then looked back to his face.

Her hands lifted, lowering her hood to reveal her almost black face, her dark hair falling around her face in a multitude of tiny braids. Beads of stone and metal glinted in the low light and her nose wrinkled slightly at him. "You are not my guest, and I do not shake hands with trespassers." Slender fingers tucked into the shadow of her cloak, and she measured the distance between them with her eyes, as if debating whether it was far enough.

She didn't move, but spoke once more. "Kelpies are known to lure people to their deaths. It is part of the harsh world we enjoy. Killing the beast will not stop another from wandering out of the Duskmire to do the same thing, if you can find the one responsible in the first place. Why bother when your quest will come to naught? If you do find it, what will you do? Kill the beast and bring its head back for the child to see, to prove that vengeance and justice has been served?" As she spoke, one hand raised, stroking down the silver tearstreak on her face. She didn't seem to care that a boy had lost his father, that a man had died. And in truth, she didn't. One more peasant, lost to death in one of the many ways that they died.

The world was a dark, dangerous place. If one could not survive it, it was not her job to wreak vengeance on their behalf. Why did this situation matter to this man, who seemed capable enough? He wasn't dead yet, which meant he must hold some skill of value. Or perhaps he was just softhearted, truly unable to resist a child's pleading. Shadows licked up her boots as she rolled one of the beads around in her fingers, debating leading this man to a sinkhole, to rid her home of him and his irritating smile.

Unlike the majority of those she was this rude to, he didn't blink an eye. The lack of negative reaction was actually a little disappointing to the dark woman. But then, as he spoke, thoughts flew through her mind. He did not care which creature he murdered, whether the kelpie was guilty or not. That wasn't vengeance. It was murder. Cold blooded murder, at that. But it didn't matter. So long as this little boy was soothed, that he believed that no creature would wander from the Duskmire and lure him away to his own death. -Pitiful. Better to choke upon a harsh truth than to savor a honey-cake lie.- As she saw it, Djinn did this little boy no favors, and her expression darkened slightly, shadows creeping further up her boots as she weighed the decision of removing the lean man from her home. He obviously did not care about life, and murderers were best when dead, so far as she was concerned.

Undoubtedly, the boy he sought to comfort would grow up, and if he survived to adulthood, he would die. Perhaps in a similar fashion to the manner his father did. It would be appropriate. Her thoughts were disrupted by a single word. Mage. Mage. The deepening of her scowl was enough to confirm his assumption. She hated the word Mage. It was nothing to be proud of, no lineage of heroism or glory. Mage was a word that labeled her. Untrustworthy. Hated. Blamed for anything that went wrong magically, even though she wasn't involved. Mage. The word that had plagued her when young, that had driven her from home to home, from one family into the streets... Because of the tear-streak mark that ran down her cheek. Mage. The reason she had attempted, in her earliest years to remove the mark itself, resulting in her midnight skin and silver mark... Mage. Hatred of herself, and more hatred of those who were her 'family,' her 'kind' that drove her out of their cliques as surely as when she had been beaten in the streets. Mage. The word that had caused her to seek desperately for power, to enhance her mark into the lines it was now, to ensure that she would never be restrained again. Freedom of the mind, the body, the soul. Her lips raised slightly into something between a sneer and a snarl, and one hand, hidden by the shadow of her cloak, clenched into a fist.

Perhaps this man was better off dead, for trespassing, even if he hadn't admitted to his intent to murder.

He spoke again, his eyes glinting with mischief and a smile to match. Her irritation, while plain to see, settled back slightly into the cold demeanor that she had greeted him with initially. Her response came in words carefully spoken, as if saying a single syllable wrong might cause something disastrous to happen. "Out of touch? Perhaps. But maybe that is because I tired of dealing with the stupidity and prejudice of the masses. Men like yourself who claim to be out for vengeance but really simply seek to murder." She shifted slightly. "I will assist you only to ensure that you leave."

But her idea of assisting him was not what he would expect. A low, singsong chant in another language came from her, and her hands moved inside her cloak as if molding something together. It took only a brief moment before her hand lifted, fingers tangled in the mane of what was, most definitely, a kelpie. The mane was much like wet seaweed, the head severed slightly below the jaw, the mouth hanging open to show the pointed teeth of the carnivore that went so oddly into the shape of a horse's mouth... Blood even dripped from it, and it's eyes stared blankly, accusingly, at the fae. Shimmer tossed it to roll to a halt at Djinn's feet, hands tucking back under her cloak. Within it, she reached into a pocket and grabbed one of her crystals, allowing the energy stored within it to flow back into the space left within her own reserves. "You may call me Shadow, or Shimmer, as you wish. Now leave." Both names suited her, her tattoo gleaming, and shadows still clinging to her boots. Midnight eyes stared at him, narrowing slightly.

He turned her own judgements of himself back upon her. Ugh. The man was infuriating, and it seemed as though he knew it and was extremely pleased about it as well. She almost growled as he tossed her magically made kelpie head back at her, scolding her for murdering a kelpie. As if she had done such a thing and wasted such precious life. A wave of her hand came as it rolled at her feet, and the kelpie head dissolved back into the loam and forest pieces that had gone into making it. He was already walking away before she answered his question.

Not that the woman bothered actually answering. There was little choice, really. She didn't wish him to blunder about her home for days as he sought out a kelpie, and perhaps her help would get rid of him sooner. Whether that was by his death or by his success, she didn't truly care.

Perhaps she did. Maybe there would be a good sized sand-sinkhole along their way. Or perhaps one of the kelpies would drown him. Yes. That sounded quite nice.

Shadows still clung to her boots as she padded after him like a large cat, almost soundless. The opportunity to get ride of him would surely come soon. Her hands flipped up her hood and she followed him like a shadow, each step following paths that she knew far better than he did.

She followed him silently for the first while, ignoring his satisfied grin, and the roguish look his fingers moving through his hair gave him. She didn't have time to be charmed by strangers. Where he moved around vines, she gestured and they shifted for her. Undoubtedly it was a mage trick to enhance her intimidation factor, but she didn't care. It took less effort to wave a hand than it did to duck around every wall of vines that blocked her path. She watched as he pulled out a lance from seemingly nothing to cut down the wall of thorns and vines before it dissipated and he glanced at her again.

His eyes narrowed, and she took note of it, for it belied the carefree smile upon his face as he asked her what secrets she had buried here. The gleam of her tattoo flashed as she turned her head slightly, and her voice was dry as she replied with a a dry tone to her voice. "There is nothing sinister about me. I merely dislike people invading my home. And seeing as a dislike people, I chose a home that people dislike. Particularly those who come to senselessly kill creatures. As for secrets, there are a great many, but so very few of those buried here are mine." She sounded as though she didn't care, but her lips twitched in irritation with him.

"You shall never find a kelpie if you insist on speaking. Sound carries in the damp." Because of the fog that lingered near the ground, she seemed to float along behind him. She stayed out of reach of both him and his strange lance, for now.

Her eyes rolled in the shadows of her hood. Did he ever stop talking? Or asking questions? Did he think her some whimsical maiden, hiding from the world in bitterness because of betrayal, pretending to be cold to protect her weeping heart? Shimmer almost snorted at the ridiculousness of the thought. Perhaps, if she had ever taken a lover, she might have fwlt lonely, out in Duskmire. But men had proven brutal and women snide. She preferred the darkness of her dangerous home. Here she could perfect her magic and worship the goddess who had blessed the world with the shadows that clung to her.

His question of whether she could act the distressed maiden pulled her lips into a smirk. Perhaps she could play such a part, even though she had so disturbed him by creating a kelpie head out of nothing. But it was a laughable thought. More so, it made her wonder what he planned to encourage such an act.

The mage frowned, her voice soft, but still holding that dangerius, icy tone. She was suspicious now. "I doubt any act I attempt would draw any kelpie. Like me, they know the Duskmire, and unless we are right by their pool, a maiden in distress would be unlikely to draw attention. However,near a pool, the hapless, lost wanderer would have better chances. Such is better played by a stranger, like yourself."

Her eyes darted around, seeking the signs of a sinkhole to shove him into. Perhaps, between sinkhole and the possible kelpie, she could get rid of the obnoxious man. Anything to get rid of him and leave her in peace.

Her glower deepened. How did she come to being called “Momma Kelpie" in the first place? Did she look like a water dwelling horse? After a moment she just turned her attention away from the analyzation of his words. It wasn't her problem if he didn't understand the Duskmire as well as she did. And then, once more, questions spouted from his mouth. She supposed she had a peace with the kelpies. They left her be, and she didn't rip them apart. One even dwelled near her home, and they exchanged greetings occasionally. It was not smart to become attached to a violent race though. After all, when one became attached, one became less wary… and when one was less wary, a predator such as a kelpie would strike.

Before she opened her mouth to answer, she spotted, finally, the signs of a sinkhole to the side of the safe path. It was slowly growing to overcome the path, and her lips tilted into a half smirk. At last, there was what she needed to be rid of him. Silently, she sped her pace just a little, coming within reach of him. Five steps, three steps… two. With the smallest grunt of effort she stepped up to just behind him and half body slammed into his side to send him stumbling off the path.

All was seeming fine and dandy until his right and then left foot landed into what felt like a mix of sand and clay, pulling at his legs and seeming to simply suck him downwards. Shimmer stood upon the solid portion of the ground, a few inches higher than the sinkhole. Her lips curved, a smile that might have been pretty if it weren't so malicious appearing upon her face. Her voice kept that cool tone to it even though she smiled. "I've changed my mind, Djinn. You may stay. Forever." The shadows that clung to her boots rose to envelope her as she stepped away towards one of the trees, seeming to disappear in fog and mystery.

Despite her irritation, she couldn't bring herself to move very far away. Some small piece of her nagged at her about morality, killing someone simply for being irritating. That wasn't okay, according to her old mentor. But he had disappeared long ago. Perhaps decisive action had been what he was lacking, why he had left. She shook her head. If nothing else, she needed to ensure he died, right? With a small sigh, she leaned against a tree, watching Djinn from the shadows.