<span style="color: #00FF40">"Woah woah woah.  What about just signing a regular ...thing?  You know what I mean, a treaty or something like that?"</span><br/><br/>In a small room stood the three remaining forest royals; a twenty four year old man with thick black hair that looked wild despite any attempts to tame it, an older man bearing a strong resemblance, and very frail old woman who sat knitting quietly.  "....We're in no position for that sort of measure."  The savage-looking king crossed his arms.  "Familial ties are strong and there is no time."<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">"Dad.  This isn't medieval times or whatever." </span>His eyes were brown with golden hues.  Motto of the Brook.  He had a stocky build like his father; standing five feet and six inches tall with a powerful physique.  Staggering back from a sudden rush of flames, Motto countered with an air-burst.  Both men ceased when the tree-castle's ivy wound itself around them tight enough to prevent movement.  "Motto."  The old woman's tiny hand touched his.  "This is our only chance to salvage what is left.  The forest has already stopped talking to us....but it still speaks to you.  Doesn't it?"  The young man said nothing, but scowled and lowered his head.  "Don't worry so much about whether or not she'll accept you."<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">"WHAT?" </span>Motto had been released by the vines and stared incredulous at his grandmother.<span style="color: #00FF40"> "Accept me?!  I'm not worried about that.  What the heck would you make you think that?  Ha ha, that's crazy, Abe.  Pshhh I'm fine.  I got this."</span>The two elders exchanged looks.  "Good."  His father grunted.  "When the time and place is set, you will be there."<br/><br/><span style="color: #00FF40">"Yeah." </span>Motto stepped onto a branchy balcony.  Beads of sweat were forming on his brow.<span style="color: #00FF40">"No problem."</span><br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="https://i.imgur.com/EBBLDtf.jpg">[ img ]</a>