Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-17114085-20160102174454/@comment-24736819-20160111215044

Olen clenched her fists and attempted not to scream, which she succeeded. She kept looking down as the blood streamed along her cheek.

At first both Balin and the elven farseer kept quiet, they were pretty drained from their time together. The visions were something which made the two of them grasp a glimpse of what expected the Prince in the future and such things were not meant to be seen.

"What is your name?", Balin started, still looking out the window.

"M-my name?", the she-elf sounded surprised, "Fiandrael."

"That is a beautiful name, my Lady...", the Prince smiled only to see Fiandrael's shy semblant turning into an angrier one.

"You don't get it, do you?!", the breton kept quiet, "At first I thought it was your father the one who would perish...b-but I made a mistake, it is you! You are the one who is going to die! My mistake almost killed you!"

The breton chuckled. After everything, he simply chuckled.

"C'mon, that in no way is your fault, Fiandrael. I saw what you wanted to show me and I can asure you that I don't intend to go one on one against heavy armored skull-knights any time soon. I'll admit I got pretty worried about my father after everything my uncle told me, but this news...well, they are the best I could get!"

Fiandrael raised an eyebrow, "What? How? How the news of your demise are good, Prince Balin?!"

"Well, my father is out of danger...and as long as I don't go around climbing cliffs I'll be alright. I'll stay on the seas, simple as that. And please, just call me Balin.", the prince gently smiled.

The elven's frown slowly turned into relief. It worked before and it could work now, too. After all, it wasn't for nothing that Joramun Toreau never returned to Farrun or High Rock.