<strong>Character</strong>: Aersilae<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Outlook, City Streets<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Jurai<br/><hr/><br/>"You're so close to home, Orc," Aersilae said as she approached Jurai from behind the bench, "yet so far away." She sat down next to him on the stone bench. She was wearing green cloth wrappings around her breasts and two hanging down in front of and behind her lower body from the hips joined by a cord. Nymphs did not wear clothing, but the mortals did-- so she would follow their example, if only to blend in. She could pass for a human, if not for her tattoos, all suns and waves across her body.<br/><br/>"I know what it is to lose your home," she told him sympathetically. "But I cannot imagine an entire country. Your pain must be deep." Indeed, she felt it. Conflicted, confusing, Jurai was trying to tame the emotions within himself for the battle ahead. But if he suppressed rather than faced them, he may not return from the field of battle alive.<em>Maybe none of them will</em>, she thought. Mortals were such fragile things: it seemed ironic then to Aersilae that their's was the nature most prone to making war. It might serve to save all in the coming conflict for the realm, however.