<div class="floatleft">(http://i1087.photobucket.com/albums/j480/Erion2451/imagesqtbnANd9GcS9_OPu2UlXIEHWAEMAihAw7O4FwIHsbaYiD7B2cxE28OhQxSp7ww.jpg)</div><div align="center"><strong>Hollywillow Character Post</strong></div><strong>Time of day beginning post:</strong>1 p.m.ish ? ? ?<br/><strong>Time of day ending post:</strong>same<br/><strong>Location beginning post:</strong>Entering the Dulon Landing<br/><strong>Location ending post:</strong>Outside the Bold Bison<br/><strong>Characters currently interacting with:</strong>Sol, Nemea<br/><strong>GM Intervention Request\Required? (Yes/no)</strong>No<br/><br/><br/>Robin blue eyes flicked wearily between the village before her and the ominously dark sky overhead.  Holly wasn’t sure which she dreaded more.  Even from where she was, a few dozen paces outside the village, she could already smell the stench of many beings living too close to one another.  When she glanced back at the two solitary trees she’d received advice from she was shocked to see how far away they were now.<br/><br/>The constant buzz of whispers she heard within the forest was gone, replaced by different types of whispers.  Whispers which made her bark-like skin crawl and tingle.  Auburn colored brows knitted together as she stared at the nearest building.  As far as she knew, buildings didn’t whisper, but maybe they’d learned how since her last visit.  It was always possible that these buildings could actually speak like trees.<br/><br/>Her trepidation momentarily forgotten, Holly wandered closer to the building, pointed her ear toward the structure, and leaned toward it in order to better hear the whispers.<br/><br/>Of course, she didn’t hear anything.<br/><br/>Balled fists planted upon supple hips as she stared exacerbated by the structure.  She knew she had heard something, and it wasn’t very polite to remain quiet when someone decided to try and listen.  Arms crossed before her feminine physique as she stomped and stuck her tongue out at the lodge.<br/><br/>She could get a hint.  If it didn’t want to talk to her, then she’d find something that would.<br/><br/>That was what she was thinking, at least until she looked up to find herself much further into the small village than she had realized.  The smell that accompanied all villages assaulted her nose once more, and her head drew back as her attractive facial features wrinkled in disgust.  It was all she could do not to cover her nose, but she remembered that was a rude thing to do, so she didn’t.  It wasn’t very pleasant though.<br/><br/>She turned her head as she heard the whispers again.  It was as if they were originating from inside her head.  While Holly was fairly naïve of most things in the world, she knew that people weren’t supposed to hear voices in their head, unless someone was speaking to her telepathically.  That could be it.  Wizards did things like that, and wizards were never very nice.  Whispers inside her head seemed like a very not nice thing to do.  Especially since covering her ears wouldn’t help, because the voices were inside her head.<br/><br/>Turning in a full circle, Holly wondered where the wizard was.  She wasn’t eager to meet another wizard, since the last one had attempted to make her a slave and morphed her tree into a staff, which she wore on her back.  Maybe the stone druid would be willing to tell the wizard to knock it off.  It was worth a try.<br/><br/>Step by step, her bare feet carried her further into the village.  She was rather happy that there weren’t many people out, thanks to the angry looking storm that the whispers warned would bring destruction and death.  She hoped she’d be back in the forest by then, safe amongst the trees.  Of course, that wasn’t why she was happy.  She was happy that no one was staring at her.  Despite her efforts to wear moss and bramble that would resemble “proper” clothing, she knew it probably wasn’t good enough.  It never was.  She was sure she’d covered all of her “naughty” bits, as it had been explained to her, though why they were naughty she still didn’t understand.  Something had to do something in order to be naughty, and her “bits” only ever did what she did.  This meant that they were only naughty when she was being naughty and while mischievous, she was never naughty.<br/><br/>Holly was brought out of her contemplation by the sound of singing.  Her ears perked and she moved quickly, if silently, toward the voice.  She didn’t understand why anyone would be singing to a storm, especially a very angry storm that promised to do many bad things, but the song was pretty.  When it finished she stepped out from behind the building she’d used to hide and slowly approached the singer.  It seemed he was with someone else, somebody who possibly had a fashion sense as outlandish as Holly’s.  The Dryad would have to think about adding moss-made veils to her attire, they seemed to add an intriguing allure to the individual.<br/><br/>Head cocked curiously to the side, Holly continued to approach.  She hoped the man would begin singing again, and wondered why he had stopped.  The song hadn’t been that joyous, but it had been pretty and pretty things should never end.<br/><br/>Aware that she was out in the open, with nowhere nearby to hide, Holly decided to be sociable.<strong>”Hi,”</strong>she nearly shouted before realizing she’d spoken much louder than she’d intended as her gray bark-like skin flushed slightly.<br/>