Aria gripped the sleeve of Phoenixâ€™s coat, holding on to him. She remained very still, but her hand shook on his arm as she tried to swallow passed her feelings. There were too many of them. Too many things happening all at once in her body. Perhaps flying up to Phoenix was a mistake. That only added to the chaos. However, he was creating that same exciting, comforting warmth and focusing on that as he wrapped his arms around her seemed to help her focus. Her mind still seemed clouded. It still felt like she was drunk. Tears of joy started to appear in the corners of her eyes but she quickly dashed them away with the palm of the hand not holding Phoenix. â€œThank you,â€ Aria whispered, this time much less ecstatic but filled with emotion that made it weightier. Letting go of his sleeve, Aria took Phoenixâ€™s hand in her own. Moving it towards her, she kissed the back of it and held it against her cheek. â€œThank you.â€<br/><br/>~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~<br/><br/><br/>A fortnight ago a carriage was attacked by a band of hooded rouges on the road just outside of the city. They halted the carriage, harassed the passengers, stole their valuables, and knocked the victims unconscious before leaving. When the victims came to they were able to go along their way, but their things had been stolen. The victims report that the figures were impossible to identify passed their hooded cloaks, but that one of the bandits spoke in an accented masculine voice. The bandit was reported to have said the following: â€œHave you ever heard of Robin Hood and his men? Well. We are his role models.â€ A female voice chuckling was also reported.<br/><br/>The story was posted in the square, in Rulwin the capital of Felion. The town crier announced the barebones of the story every so often when he ran out of commissioned news. It was often the gossip of inns and taverns in the city, as this wasnâ€™t the first incident reported and travelers were worried that they might be next.<br/><br/>That worry was the very reason that Marcus lazed in his hiding place among the branches, watching the road and attempting to not fall asleep in the afternoon air. There was no sign of travelers, no signal from TamLin, no anything. Well. Earlier in the day there had been one small group of travelers, but they were poor gypsies. There was no profit to be found there. Only gypsy curses and wasted effort. TamLin waited further up the road, closer to the city, with a keen eye on the path. He hoped. Waiting for a signal from a sleeping TamLin was a less than pleasant thought. Crow for value, Quail for passers. Not that there were many of either one today.<br/><br/>Thinking about the stories in the town made Marcus laugh. Band of rouges indeed. There were only the two of them. He and his twin hardly counted as a band. Just a couple of mixed elves out on a mission for the greater good. Mixed elves. It was a funny term they had come up with together. After all, they werenâ€™t half elves. Both parents had been elves. Their mother was a Ljosalfar, a light or forest elf, while their father was Dokkailfar, or dark elf. It made for an interesting combination. Marcus has his fatherâ€™s dark blue-gray skin and light gray, nearly white, hair, while TamLin had their motherâ€™s fair complexion and brown locks. TamLinâ€™s golden eyes were their fatherâ€™s, while Marcus sported their motherâ€™s deep blue. Had their parents had a sense of humor, the two might have been named Ying and Yang. Instead it was Marcus and TamLin, partners in crime and glory and, perhaps, boredom.