His brisk tone started to ebb her patience. If nothing else, shouldn't this asshole be grateful he's out of the bottle? If not, find someone else to control it. Despite how long anyone has been alive, she couldn't for the life of her imagine why someone would be so bitter and rude.<br/>"I don't want anything because I have everything I need." she said with a gentle shrug.<br/>She stepped forward to an easily missed wall of drippy moss. She lifted her hand and made a gentle waving motion to the side, a subtle green glow emitting from her hand. She stood still as the moss rumbled and sounded to crinkle a bit. It shook itself clean of the runny dew before scrunching to the side when released from the vines entangling it into place. A small shabby door was revealed with light carvings on the front and a simple door handle made of old ceramic.<br/>When he mentioned his clothes, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Here she had someone so ancient, old, and presumably wise before her, only to be disappointed that he was worse than the lazy, whiny bigots in town.<br/>"Take them off then." she stated, a bit clipped.<br/>'Take the damn, bottle.' That's it. She was a kind person, but no one deserved to be treated the way he was treating her, especially after what she did and offered. As he shoved the bottle back to her, her eyes grew a little wider, irritated. She took the bottle in hand, only to toss it aside into a squishy yet gentle patch of moss right by the water.<br/>"Look, do you just liking listening to the sound of your own voice, or are you so damaged that all you know how to do is complain about everything around you now that you're in the real word again? I don't want anything - especially from you. I go where I like, the way I like, and it pleases me just fine. I am no mistress and I certainly don't want to be yours. So take<span style="font-style: italic">your own</span>damn bottle and find someone who will wish you until they're blue in the face, or tell me how to free you so I can free myself of your pathetic misery. All I tried to do is help. Learn to be grateful asshole."<br/>He rant was quick and to the point, no sign of sympathy anywhere in her voice as her eyes burned for the moment. As her words spilled from her mouth like a broken damn, the trees began to rustle above them, stirring a light wind that disturbed her hair and dress. As she stared at him, the fire within her mixing eyes simmered down, turning away and leaving him to clean his 'precious' clothes.<br/>The closer she approached the little hut, the more it revealed itself. The thick curtains of foliage shriveled and twisted into themselves, the vines slithering back and retreating to the roof like snakes. This made the shape more clear. Standing in front, it appeared as a typical, block house. But with the movements, the slope became apparent. In the upper right corner of the roof, it bent and sloped from an enormous tree. It looked like the house had melted from this old oak. The old wood that made the front of a little house was stained with green hues, showing a little single pane window. The glass was decorated over the front with the twisting and winding of tree roots crawling up the crystal. It was wide - very wide. Impressive for how hidden it was. Should someone have walked right into it (if they dared venture this far) they would have hit it before even seeing it. When the roots and foliage finally settled, her hand gripped the shaky door knob and pushed it open. Her hand casually reached back to close it, though it took far more than that with the ground getting in the way, so it hung open. Inside was dim, shaded by the tight knit branches, lichen, and endless layers of many other things growing and falling atop her home.<br/>The inside was impressive, clearly showing someone had been here for a while. The floor were smooth, flat stones evenly placed all around. They were spread and gabbed by the ever growing floor beneath, but it made it feel earthy and raw. To her left sat a small kitchen. A simple table by the wall with a matching one a few feet away, covered in utensils and buckets and cloth. There was even a little window on the back for the day when the light was strong enough to shine through. To her right was an empty space with a make-shift couch, layered with pillows and a soft blanket. But straight ahead was where the beauty of this place really shined. A few steps forward and an extra large step to the right was a set of stairs leading up into total darkness - presumably the tree it wrapped around. But behind it was her room, carved out like a perfectly sized nook. On the right was her bed, large and plush with a disheveled array of red and purple coverings, books of all sized tucked between them. Ahead, another window, this one surprisingly letting light through, still with the same roots twisting up the flat surface. And to her left, a simple chest of draws which more than likely held the contents of her clothing. Candles sat everywhere in every shape and size, clearly her source of light when the sun goes down. It was barely seen with the dense canopy above her, but when the sun set, this who forest swamp was nothing but black.<br/>The most abundant cluster of candles sat just over her pillows - stacked and melted to the splintered shelf above her. It was clear they had been replaced and reshaped many times by the dried wax folding over the edges. But it was still beautiful, especially with the array of gems that stuck to the wall. Small coloured stones that twinkled like diamonds when the light caught them properly.<br/>After her release of irritation, she trudged inside around the cutting table. From the basket of fruit sitting at the end, she plucked and apple and sliced it quickly. Taking a breath, she pulled one of the pieces with her elegant hands and bit the end with a moist, crisp bite.