Desreal: Rowan;

“mos nunquam operor quisquam huic universitas vacuus virtus. Is est maioribus species of mens tunc ut veneratio"

Nicodemus is not as silent as she. How could he be? With flames dancing about him, destruction was everything that his element stood for. Fire was only silent in the gentle hold of a candle, and that was not true fire. That was not his flames, because his were far too feral. His flames were a wildfire, a back draft. His eyes, his mane, his muscles, all were evidence to the crudeness and the passion that composed him. All was evidence to the fact that he was unstable, he was unpredictable and unable to control the whims that possess him. Her eyes were softer, smoother than his. His held flames, his were rigid and full of intensity in a way that it almost hurt you to look at them. Nicodemus was raw fury over and over again.

Nicodemus sees her and sees someone else all at once reflected like a mirror. Skylar. His only daughter, and the one that he forsake more than he had ever forsaken anyone. Air. Earth. They were one in the same, except for raw looks. Rowan was not the pale cream of Skylar, nor was she in any way as delicate as the girl that Nicodemus called child. They were the same, and yet different enough that it was not painful for the man to look at her. His flames gave him that strength. There was the sound of chattering in his ears, and then there was a tingle upon his back and to his legs. He heard Keir’s growl then, and needed not to look to see that the wolverine was sniffing at Rowan curiously. Andraste’s call drowned out the growling of the mustelid, and with her call she perched herself gently upon Nicodemus’ back, intelligent eyes glaring at Rowan. If Nicodemus’ eyes were intense, then Andraste’s were power.

When Rowan speaks, Keir flashes a set of large canines, though his gestures were simply curiosity. He could not help his fierce nature no more than Nicodemus could control himself. But Nicodemus smiles, because her voice, too, was somewhat akin to that of his daughter. It hurt him to hear it.

“Rowan.” He nods.

“I am Nicodemus.” A pause. “And I, too, am many things.” He chuckles. “I am an inferno, a monster, among so many other things.”

His mind prods hers, only for a moment, very gently. He smiles again.

Perhaps this would be fun.

SE

**NICODEMUS//ANDRASTE//KEIR**

To acquire knowledge, one must study; but to acquire wisdom, one must observe.

Picture Copyright to Romance 2008