* HALLWAY *<br/><br/>The peaceful conversationalist sighs.<br/><br/>"Perhaps the destiny laid out here will end.  But it is not our place to contemplate that, and certainly not to welcome it.  It is our place to follow the Etiquette of the Garden.  To act with that decorum in mind."<br/><br/>"You're talking about plucking a harp while the palace burns around us."  The bellicose one scoffs.<br/><br/>"That is the way of elves."<br/><br/>"Let me tell you about the way of elves, brother."  He pauses.  Fern hears a small click, like a light, small object being set on a hard surface: A coin, a playing piece, a blade.  "Our way is to be above the humans.  Adamion says it himself, yes?"<br/><br/>"Yes.  To protect--"<br/><br/>"No, 'protection' is what he decrees, not the natural order of things.  The natural order imbues us with greater magic and greater affinity with the world.  More to the point, it gives us the long vision to properly manage the world."<br/><br/>"Granted."<br/><br/>"That management cannot be merely static, brother.  It cannot hold one shape for long, as it has with the Garden.  Because just as the nature of elves is to have the wisdom and tranquility humanity lacks, the nature of the world is to change.  Change is coming, whether Adamion tries to contain it or not.  It is not some unruly human passion to be directed in a better, more actualized way.  It is the governing force of reality."<br/><br/>"We make our own reality."  Another click.<br/><br/>"For now." The warlike one responds.<br/><br/><br/>* ENCLOSURE *<br/><br/>The griffon's excitement grows.  Soon his thighs are tensing like steel under a forge hammer, his muscles ripping and twitching with rigidity.  His sheath is pulsing fierce and full.  The penis on Miaren's face strokes feverishly with its fork.<br/><br/>He exudes a tender purr, one billowing with arousal but quieted with concern.  A hint of wariness edges it.  But as it rolls from his avian throat, the griffon is taken by the primal urge that inspired it to shift into motion.<br/><br/>He circles behind Miaren, practically pressing atop her with his furred flank.  She bathed in bronze and vivid heat until her surface sparkles with it.  The crimson slab of his penis slaps one tumid breast, shaking its stretched surface and making the bruises clustered within tumble thickly.  Then that flesh skims over her rump as he reaches behind her, his heat bearing down on her haunches.<br/><br/>He turns there.  His belly's press slowly guides the tail's shaft to gore deeper into Miaren's bottom.  His beak skims her cheek.<br/><br/>He shifts his hindlegs wide and readies to mount.