///Closed Thread: Wish Upon A Bullet

The soft whisper of leaves and grass crunching beneath Gunnar’s booted feet announced his advance through the garden. Thus far, the ex-ranch hand had navigated only a small portion of the university’s grounds. After arriving and going through registration, he had gotten lost inside the corridors of the castle for quite some time. The longer he spent surrounded by stone stolen from the womb of earth in which it belonged, the more he became restless. He felt sympathetic for the stones that were denied their home as he too was no longer in familiar surroundings. The Emerald Isle was an ocean away from his homeland, and even upon reaching the coast, there was half a continent to travel before he could set foot on the soil of his home town in Montana.

No longer was he on the plains where cattle grazed beneath the blue sky and bright sun. Instead, the ground was carpeted with a soft, lush grass, as green as any he’d seen back home, and punctuated with trees. From what the ex-ranch hand had seen, it seemed that Ireland was heavily forested, but when he’d first investigated the school and its locale, he had heard different. According to several sources, much of the island had been converted into pastures back in the dark ages, but so far, all he had seen was forests with mist clinging to the trees as often as moss. Gunnar longed to see the fertile fields in hope that they would allay his developing homesickness. Of course, he knew there was the chance that they would only make him miss the prairies even more but it was a risk he was willing to take.

Overhead, sheltered in the leaves of the trees and hidden from the Montanan’s sight, chirped at least a dozen birds. As he walked through the wooded garden, his hands hovered over his holstered revolvers. A weak claustrophobia clawed at the cowboy’s nerves as he passed between the trunks of the trees and under the shadows of their leafy canopy. His building unease made him jump and start at every rustling, ready to draw his revolvers from their leather homes. He was sure that the oaks and birches hid more than a gross of eyes that peered at him through the leaves. “Nothin’ but small game and forest fowl,” he muttered to himself as he lowered his hands back to his sides. At least on the open plains he had only needed to worry about rattlers and coyotes hiding in the high grass and nothing lurking overhead—the eagles and hawks stayed in the sky and didn’t hunt humans. Granted, there was the occasional grizzly or bison herd to watch for but animals as big as they were often easy to spot from a distance on the prairie.

Something in the distance, barely visible between the trunks of the trees, caught his eyes. Gunnar stopped for a moment and narrowed his eyes on the object. At the distance, and with such a slim view of the thing through the woods, he couldn’t make out what it was. He crept closer towards it, his pace cautious but quick. Gunnar’s booted feet fell upon the soft grass with determined steps as he strode between the trees, finally having a purpose, a destination. As he drew closer, he noticed a tiny clearing surrounded the mysterious object, and he slowed to a stop at the edge of the glen. At the center of glen was a pile of mossy stones. Moisture clung to the mossy, making the structure shimmer like emerald scales of a beheaded serpent. Four shafts of spiral wrought iron rose from the rock to support a steepled grillwork of the same metal. The elegant swirls in the wireframe led into each other like gentle eddies of water in a tributary. The overall design reminded Gunnar of a Moorish helmet lost long ago on a battlefield no one remembered. There was a rustling and then the soft sound claws scraping across stone filled the silence. Gunnar’s right hand dipped to his waist and plucked the revolver from its holster. He quirked an eyebrow as the grating stopped and was replaced with a quiet rap—it almost sounded like wood on stone. Gunnar lifted his thumb to catch the spurred hammer of the Colt Trooper and drew it back with a soft click as the mechanism settled, readying to pull the trigger.

Rustling. Movement. Gunnar turned the barrel towards… a red squirrel as it mounted the pile of stones. The tiny woodland creature held a large acorn in between its two front paws as it raised up onto its haunches to look at the intruder. It flicked its bushy tail and cocked its head before leaning back down and tapping the acorn against the mossy stone. Gunnar breathed a sigh of relief and let the hammer ease back into its home and then slid the revolver into his holster. “Scoot, skedaddle!” he called, waving a hand at the animal as he approached the curious structure. As he drew nearer, he noticed an iron disk tinged with rust near the center of the stacked stones. After a second of examination as he drew nearer, he realized it was a lid of some sort. Gunnar grabbed the edge and gave a hard pull, the aged metal groaning as he broke the bonds of rust that had sealed it. With a terrible sound of metal breaking, the lid came free. Gunnar set it down and peered inside, only to hear the kerplop of metal and stone fragments falling into water. “A well?” he asked the silence.

A laugh bubbled on his lips—how silly he had been, to be so curious about the place, he thought as he seated himself on the edge of the mossy stone structure, careful to not bump his head upon the iron frame over it. He peered into the well shaft and saw the glitter of water below reflecting the few beams of sunlight that shone through tree branches and iron grillwork. “A mystical place like this, I bet it’s a wishing well,” he joked, another laugh leaving his lips. An idea formed in his head as he pondered the remote well: most men toss a coin into the well when they want wealth or good fortune. A coin represented both, as it was currency and in America at least, it was considered a sign of good luck if a person found a penny heads up. What then if he tossed in something else?

Gunnar waved his hand over the open well, his fingers wiggling. A tiny pinpoint of light appeared and glowed above the middle knuckle of his pinky and then fell between his pinky and ring finger. As it passed beneath his ring finger, the light grew into a small flickering cylinder and then flipped up between his ring and middle fingers. It cartwheeled across the top of his middle finger and dropped through the gap between it and his last digit. The tiny light lost its glow as the magic finally materialized into a physical object while tumbling. It descended only an inch in the air before he snatched it between his index finger and thumb. Gunnar felt a faint warmth in the metal of the conjured bullet against his fingertips as the last traces of magic abandoned it. He held it for a second, peering down at the perfectly crafted piece of ammunition, and then released it. He waited for the tell-tale splash of the instrument of death breaking the surface of the well water.

Echoes, crunches, tramples. Sounds that echoed through the forestry like that of an old time church created for boasting quiet whispers. In the sunlight, gentle tinges of green shimmered across the open plains as time seemed to stand still in this gentle moment. Finding peace within peace, and grace among the dead. Twittering noises of small creatures hiding in the woods, awoke those who surrounded and forced the peace from within to startle them out of this trance. Ireland, a beautiful scenic island of mystery and splendor. Of wicked tales, cruel kings and deathly defying odds at surviving. So far, it had lived up to every single one of those rumors you’d hear back home, ones that friends would tell you to keep you from leaving so far away.

In a moments breath a figure moved out onto the plains, so tall along the high grass and prepared for war it had seemed like. As in the shadows eyes watched, and a face would smile as it sat in wonder, of who this was of what he was bringing to the battle field. What danger, strangers propose before you begin to know who they truly are. As she watched this man, she moved through the trees, quite literally. As the cling of the chain and ring around her neck was almost silent against the noises of the forest and animals that resided within.

As Gunnar moved, so did she, watching his taunting steps, his curious mind as he moved through the tall grass. His precise motions sending shivers down her spine as he was what she liked to call, MertickAvaer, Battle Axe. From first view to Merisa, he was this person, very spotting and always watching, daring anything to jump from it’s hiding to test his skills. She could only smile, like a fading memory in the darkness of the forest.

She watched carefully as he ventured on, seeming to find something that amused his sights. She watched as a small squirrel had scared him into thinking it was a dangerous creature, and how cute it was when the small creature carried on in it’s merry way. Quickly she moved in the forest, moving to the stones he found so curious. As she moved closer to them, she found that the curiosity was something shared between them. That there was something odd about this area, then he spotted it and quickly with lots of noise he opened something. It was circular shaped, that much was for sure.

Curiosity killed the cat, but she was no cat. So she dared to step closer, but in her own way and in her own time would she do this. As softly and quietly as possible for a human, she quickly climbed up the back of the tree that she was hiding behind at that moment. As soft creaks came from the tree, something that would come during a wind breeze, she moved out along it’s heavy branches. Sneaking out on her bottom, keeping her legs up in the tree on another branch. Soft sounds of the tree creaking and cracking under the weight of her body as she snuck out across in the suns spotted gaze through the leaves.

“A mystical place like this, I bet it’s a wishing well,” The strength of his voice scared her and made her jump, shaking the tree branch she sat on just slightly. Catching a couple of acorns before they fell off it’s branches. With a quick moment, she chucked them off into the distance where they weren’t heard when they landed on the soft mossy ground. With that done, she quickly turned and faced back to the young man and the well. ~A Wishing well huh…In Caislin Hallow…Could be very promising…~ She thought to herself as she investigated the well from above.

She thought as she leaned over, investigating the deep hole that she had been leaning over to see. The frame around it was making it quite difficult to see to far into it, and to really see anything that the young man had been doing. So she sat there, trying to be quiet, trying to be still. But she could feel it, a sneeze building up inside of her. She held her breath and waited, thinking of a plan to run away before becoming spotted. But then with a soft shine of light under the frame of the well, she found her chance. He was tossing a larger object than coins into the well, and as it hit the bottom with a soft splash, she let out her quiet and covered sneeze. Holding her hands over her face as she stared down the well. Only smiling gently as she thought of it being a wishing well, and how nice it would be for his wish to come true.

Despite his vigilance, Gunnar never noticed his stalker. Every near silent sound she made that could alert him to her presence was masked by the chirps of the birds and the rustling of the leaves in the wind so that he walked unaware of the sentient presence tailing him through the woods to the well. Even after his encounter with the terrifyingly dreadful red squirrel with its equally frightening acorn, Gunnar had remained oblivious to her existence. Time and time again, her stealth kept her a secret whispered on the wind from tree to tree that Gunnar could not hear.

The Montanan remained perched upon the rim of the well, peering down the dark shaft where the bottom the rippling surface of the water twinkled like stars in the night sky over his home town. He shifted closer to the edge of the small opening to get a better look but as he leaned over the cylindrical chasm, the sparking stars below disappeared as he eclipsed the sun. A disappointed groan leaked from his lips and with a gentle rustling of cloth, Gunnar eased away from the well and propped his back up against one of the four spiraling posts. It wasn’t the most comfortable backrest but it was all he had unless he decided to get up and lean against a tree. The ex-ranch hand shut his eyes and his breathing slowed to almost that of a slumbering man. Minutes passed as the cowboy rested at the well with the unfamiliar cacophony of the Irish woods as his lullaby. He missed the sounds of the drive at night: the gentle rustling of the tall prairie grass as the wind blew, the distant, sleepy moos of the cattle, the crackling of the camp fire, and the call of the coyote.

Without any obvious provocation, Gunnar slid a hand into the front pocket of his pants, his eyes still closed. After a few seconds of groping in his pocket, the denim wrinkling over his wriggling fingers like a churning sea, Gunnar’s fingers closed over some hidden object. He withdrew his hand from the pocket and revealed a silver pocket watch trapped in the cage of his fingers. With a flick of his thumb across the latch, the watch lid popped open to reveal the pristine white face and delicate black hands. Gunnar cracked his eyelids open just a little to examine the twirling hands of the watch. His gaze slid from the watch to the well with the gentle fluidity of flowing water.

CLACK—the watch snapped shut in his hand as he tightened his fingers around it. Gunnar shook his head, a slight expression of disappointment settling on his face. “Must have been a dud,” he whispered to the well in an almost apologetic tone as if he was trying to console the wish-granting spirit for the improper tribute.

Rustles in the wind, was all that was there. Chirps of birds and subtle shifts in the wind that caused the grass to move and reform against each other. The sounds of squirrels ducking in and out of branches in the trees cracking the branches with their acorns in hand. With the sound of his foot steps echoing along the grounds, Merisa’s mismatched eyes found themselves resting on his back, watching his movements before she found him relaxing against the stone. His stance was dug into the memory of her mind, his simple look. The simplicity of the entire situation, the way he dressed, the weapons he carried, the sight of which he wanted to see.

Quickly and with silence the body would move along the tree, trying to keep the branches from cracking under her weight. Crawling along the trunk of the tree and finally coming to a silent drop on the ground, quickly the head turned searching around the way for any clue to her loss of indiscretion. The taste of summers air filled the senses with spots of Lilac and Lilly Dew. Curiosity would have killed the cat, but would only intrigue the woman as she took soft steps against the grassy grounds towards the ‘wishing well’. Small pale hands clung onto the stones edge of the wishing well, taking in a deep breath as she leaned over its edge to see the water below.

The sparkling of the light against the waters bottom, the color of the well as it sunk deeper into the darkness. The smell of fresh water within the tortured field of light like a oasis in the middle of a desert. So calming, yet so mysterious. The entirety of a Wishing Well confused Merisa, forced her to think outside of the box, and perhaps hope for something better. But as she heard shifts against rocks, quickly she fell to her knees hiding behind the long glades of grass that swung ever so gently in the afternoon winds. Peering through the green flocks right through to the man that leaned against his rock, peering at something he held in his hand. As a small smirk played on her broken lips, as a shift in weight pushed her back up to the surface of the well as she stared down into it once again.

Curiosity, seems to be the choice in actions here, as her thoughts ran vivid on what he had thrown into the well. For to have a coin tossed in, would have landed with a very light tink noise against the wells walls as it fell to the bottom. But alas, his throw-in was a direct hit to the bottom of the well, making only a splashing sound as it hit the bottom, this raised her curiosity even more-so. Leaning back up against the wells surface, hands grasping onto the edge of its rocks and gripping tightly as she leaned back over in search for a clue to anything. Finding nothing, she had given up for the time being and sat gingerly along the edge of the well.

Without any hope to count for she pulled a gold pence from her inside chest pocket and rolled it through her fingers. The shine of the coin glared into her eyes as she tossed it from finger to finger, its cool touch almost comforting as she stared down into the wishing well. ‘’Why wish upon a star…’’ Her voice was light and carried through the wind as she leaned over its gaping hole, fingers still rolling the coin through. ‘’When you can send your wish to the well…’’ Again her voice was soft and light, carried off by the wind as she let the coin drop. It’s small light shape forcing it to clink off the stone walls a few times before it hit the bottom of the well with a gentle ker-plunk.

Satisfied with her wish, with the hope that it may come true she jumped up from the seat she took on the wells edge with a loud bang against metal.

‘’Son of a !’’ She couldn’t finish her sentence as she fell from the well’s edge, she had forgotten of the frame that laid above the gaping hole and smoked her head pretty good off the metal bars. Groaning in disbelief that she hit her head, holding the top of her head in both hands as she rolled in half circles on the ground in the long grass. ‘’Dammit… So much for Ninja girl of the week…’’ She could only smile, and hold in a laugh as she thought of this, her trying to be sneaky and unseen within the school, but it had only brought more problems along the way.

Despite his preoccupation with the well and the watch, it would have been impossible for Gunnar to miss the young woman as she leaned over the mossy stones to peer into the well. Her stealthy descent to the forest floor and quiet approach had kept her as one of the garden’s secrets until her curiosity had gotten the better of her. When she had dared to peek down the well, the movement had caught Gunnar’s eyes. His green-eyed gaze shifted from the well to the woman leaving over it, only for her to duck down behind the stones before he could get a good look at her.

At first, he thought she was a figment of his imagination, a mirage in the mist. But as he looked more closely, he saw that the light fog that betrayed her. Eddies of swirling mist rushed to fill the suddenly empty space in the absence of her body. The displaced fog could only imply a disturbance caused by something solid which no imagined thing could. Gunnar remained still even though he knew that an intruder hid on the opposite side of the well. In the time it took to draw his next breath, he reached with his left hand for the revolver nestled in the holster on the same side. The ex-ranch hand pulled the firearm free of the leather sheath with a near silence that whispered of practiced patience. He kept the Colt Trooper level with his lap as he laced his index finger through the trigger guard. The cool touch of steel against his fingertip reassured the Montanan when he applied the faintest pressure to the trigger in anticipation.

Movement again. The woman rose over the outer rim of the well and Gunnar’s finger tightened across the trigger. Before the mechanism could catch, he released the pressure on the tiny lever. A fey girl like her hardly looked like any real threat but he knew appearances could be misleading. All the same, Gunnar lowered his guard. The Montanan returned both gun and watch to their homes, one to its leather holster, the other to his pants pocket, and then folded his hands across the coarse denim that spanned his lap. The cowboy arched an eyebrow to her odd behavior, having approached the well without introducing herself to the man already there. It was as if she didn’t see him. With a quick glance down his own body, Gunnar established that that certainly could not be the case. “Howdy, Missy,” he murmured as a gentle greeting as she jumped up from her seat on the mossy stone.

The crack of cranium on iron made the man wince and draw a breath through clenched teeth. “That… looked like it smarted,” he stated as he rose from his perch, keeping his head ducked low to prevent repeating her mistake. Gunnar circled around the side of the well, grass whispering beneath his booted feet. “Ya’ll right?” he asked as he stopped beside her. “Here, let’s get ya back on ya feet.” He reached down, extending a calloused hand to the prone gal. “Looks like you got quite a bump brewin’,” he commented, his narrowed-eyed gaze fixing on her forehead.

Rustles in the wind, was all she could hear, the tones of grassy blades whispering into her ear. As she laid against the ground, enjoying its gentle touch, enjoying the summer scent of dew grass and flowers. Touch of soft blades against her skin, made goose bumps appear as she ran her fingertips over the grassy top. The long grass was almost comforting, making her feel like a coyote hiding in its shadow. Captured along it’s grassy wallows to find another pretty to stalk within the night. The sound of her head cracking against the side of the metal over hang, still rung in her ears so the sound of his voice was not heard in the clash of her mind. Taking a deep breath as her hands covered her head, rubbing against the spot she had hit feeling a small bump starting to grow. With a soft groan she sat up, hands still over her head, cradling her wound.

Rubbing her head, allowing the pain to subside for the moment as she tilted her head up, staring into the deep colors of the blue sky above. Dots of clouds, hesitating in the air for just a moment before moving along in the path of the wind. Soft whistles through the branches of the tree, then a voice came, like mysterious hidden behind painted glass.

‘’That Looked like it smarted’’

These words only made her crack a smile, and force her eyes up into the sun once again. With the smile perched on broken lips, fingertips found their way into the softened grass blades that laid below her. ‘’Smarted? ‘’ She would reply in a soft tuned voice, thinking for a moment where this sense of verbs have come from. Reassembling herself, and finding her vision cleared once again staring up into this mans face. The features on his skin reminded her of the dairy farmers of her own country, the familiar look in his eyes like he had worked a million years and would continue on with his work.

She could only giggle at the way he spoke, it was simple but very well worded for the coincidence of the meeting. ‘’Looks like you got quite a bump brewin’ ’’ From that she could only laugh and give him a nod as she moved in spot and lifted her self up just slightly. Then saw his hand before her, letting the body drop back onto the soft gentle grass, she put her hand out and gripped onto it, pulling herself up with help. ‘’My mind is going to hate me for that bump…Quite the ringer…’’ A soft laugh would escape out of her before staring around, then up at the man who stood taller than herself. With a gentle smile she would give him a nod and slight curtsy. ‘’Thank you very much for picking me up though, hopefully that smack didn’t cause a concussion though… That’d be terrible…’’

Searching around herself, she found that he was the man that she had been watching from behind, her cheeks flushing bright red as she thought this over. Letting her words come out from beneath her breath. ‘’Bad Ninja of the week award goes to… Me..’’ A smile cut across the lips as she stared up at the man for a quick second before searching around her. ‘’So…Mister.. Think this wishing well thing works?’’

When she laid on the grass unmoving and remained unresponsive as he approached and greeted her, Gunnar started to worry that the knock to the head might have been a little more serious than he’d originally thought. It had been a pretty loud crack. The soft voice the spilled from her smiling lips reassured him though, and he gave a gentle smile of his own that creased the tanned, almost leathery skin at the corners of his mouth.

“Ya know, hurt?” he explained, figuring that she simply wasn’t familiar with the term he had used. So far his accent and language from the Montanan prairie’s hadn’t inhibited his ability to communicate but in time he knew he’d come across someone who would have trouble deciphering his dialect. Gunnar watched her start to rise on her own and he arched an eyebrow, and for a moment it looked like a wholly brown caterpillar was paralyzed mid-crawl across his brow. The sight of her dropping back down onto the ground with the thick grass to cushion her fall when she’d already been partway up puzzled him until she reached for his hand. Strong calloused fingers closed over her daintier digits and he helped hoist her to her feet. “There ya go, Miss,” he said once she was upright again. “Any time,” he muttered after she expressed her gratitude. “Might not be a bad idea to go check into the infirmary to get it looked at,” he paused a moment, glancing up a bit while he thought, as if visibly glancing through his memory like a catalog,” though I’m not sure if there’s a nurse or doc ‘round here yet.”

He knew she was speaking but her words were as soft as the wind whispering across the tops of the grass and he just couldn’t make out what she was saying. “What’s that?” he asked, looking at her. When she spoke again, he figured she was just repeating her previously unheard words for him. “I dunno, didn’t do anything for me,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “ ‘Course, I didn’t use a coin.” But she did, he realized, and yet she was the one asking about if the well granted wishes or not. “Didn’t ya wish come true?” he asked, glancing from her to the well.

A small smile would erupt against those lips as she thought of the infirmary, only shaking her head a moment before listening to the rest of his words. ‘’If there was a doctor, I’m sure he would tell me I’m over-reacting. So to make it quick, you can go ahead and look at it yourself, and if you think it’s bad, I guess I should take it easy.’’ Laughing only slightly as her hand rubbed the side of her head, relieving some of the pain as she looked on through the man and into the shade of the trees that laid behind him, the sight of squirrels running from tree to tree caught her eye.

Eyes watched in silence as the coin that shimmered through the darkness of the water, grinning only slightly before the dawning of his voice. The breaking silence found itself shattering against the deep tones of his voice, shocking the system as she found herself tearing into the abyss of the Wishing Well. Taking for a moment her contemplating mind, moving so her head raised and stared into the man above her. With a gentle smile against the broken lips, she found herself wondering his question to herself. ‘’I’m not sure if it’s come true or not… What of yours dear sir?’’ For a moment the silence was broken again, then mismatched hues found themselves grinding against the contours of his face. Taking in for a moment the reality of the man before she found pale hands clinging onto the wells edge once again.

Fingers tapped against it’s surface as sounds of birds and the wind churned once again, a smile pierced across her face before finding the moment to peer into the reflection at the bottom of the well. She had not placed a wish upon the coin, but only hoped for good to escape from the tendering secrets of the bottom of the well. For a moment she was lost, in the swishing sound of the water lapping against the old cold stone. ‘’So what are you doing out here anyways if I may ask?’’ Her voice was soft, but audible against the sound of swaying blades of grass, of turning waters echoing from the pits of the Wishing Well.

Leaning against the stone edge of the Wishing Well, letting the white dress become dirtied with the dirt and dust of ages of the well. Taking her time before leaning over the edge, and letting her hands reach down slowly, she thought if she could retrieve his coin, he would at least be able to try and wish again. Her hands didn’t even reach half way down the well, as she sat there swinging her arms trying to reach the waters surface that was well beyond ten feet of her grasp. But thought constructed in her mind, as she came back up from inside of the well. Letting herself fall to the ground in the deep grass, loving the touch of cool grass against her bare arms and legs. The prickling sensation reminding her of a man that would make her feel like the tool of evil itself.

“Eh, a doc would probably tell yah to put some ice on it and lay down for a spell,” corrected Gunnar as he peered at her head. But it was her choice and if she ended up passing out in the woods when he wasn’t around, there wasn’t much he could really do to stop her. She looked like she was old enough to make decisions on her own, whether or not they were right or wrong. Gunnar arched an eyebrow, his normally narrowed eye underneath it widening, when she seemed to be looking at something behind him. Given the oddity of the students and grounds of the school, Gunnar was already suspicious of danger around every corner. He twisted his body a little and peered over his shoulder but only found frolicking squirrels—hardly a concern.

When she spoke again, he turned to her. “I didn’t have a wish. I just wanted to see what would happen—nothing did. So either it doesn’t grant wishes or you have to have one in mind,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. Gunnar didn’t see fit to mention the he hadn’t provided the normal fare for a wish. The token he had dropped into the well hadn’t been a coin like hers—it was his shimmering secret that lay buried beneath the shadowy surface of the well water.

“I’m just trying to learn the lay of the land,” he answered to her second question. Again, he arched a curious eyebrow when he saw her trying to reach into the well. “Don’t fall in now,” he muttered, watching the peculiar behavior of the even more peculiar girl. When she plopped down onto the grass beside the well, Gunnar decided that he had met yet another odd girl at Caislin Hallows—weren’t there any that were remotely normal?

The way he spoke made her laugh and always smile, it wasn't her making fun of him she just enjoyed the fact someone else had an accent that was notice-able, and he spoke it very thickly. As she was over the edge of the well, watching the waters glimmer from the suns light that she didn't block out of view. ''I won't fall...Well.. Okay maybe I will.. But I try not to...'' She came to terms with the likeliness that she would fall in and quickly made her way back out of the well. Ducking her head as she stepped back a few feet from the well, then stood up to her full height of 5 feet.

''So if you didn't wish for anything, why'd you throw something in? Heard it from a leprechaun?'' She smiled and shook her head. What with them being in Ireland now, she thought she might throw in some kind of joke for the week. Arms crossed over her stomach, as she stood there looking at the well for a moment. Smiling some as she stood watching the well, ''Wouldn't it be grand if that thing actually worked? All the wonders in the world would be found and glorified.'' She took a deep breath as she laid a hand over her eyes, blocking out the sun as she looked around the open field and up towards the school in the distance.

''So I have to ask, if you didn't wish for anything, why come way out here? I mean, it's not just a hop skip and a jump from the school.... Sorry if I'm prying too much. You just normally don't see folk coming out into fields.''She had to admit to herself, she was quite curious on the whole stature of his being there. And for the moment, it was what kept her mind busy. That and all the wild life that surrounded them.

While Merisa leaned over the edge of the well, Gunnar approached her from behind, ready to grab at her ankles should she topple into the shaft. It would be just her luck for her to fall, he thought watching the girl. Thankfully, that didn’t happen and he sighed in relief when she stepped away from the well without whopping her head on the metal frame again. The further away from the well she was, the better.

“Was curious,” he answered with a shrug when she asked why he’d even bothered to throw an object in the well without a wish. Her attempt at a joke made him smile to her. “I haven’t seen any yet or any rainbows for that mattah.” Gunnars lips spread until his smile had grown into a full grin. “Why? Lookin’ for a pot a’ gold?” he chuckled. “I came out here to see what was here. Not like I meant to come to a wishing well.” Gunnar turned to follow her gaze. “That’s the direction of the school, right?” he asked, nodding his head towards where she looked. “’Fraid that in this garden, with all its trees, walls and bushes, I got turned around. Might not of even known which way was up if it wasn’t for gravity.” A small laugh left Gunnar’s lips, when he looked up to the thick canopy over head. The interlaced leaves weaved a sheet of green as thick as the carpet of grass beneath their feet. His eyes followed the branches to their edges, to the gap in the canopy over the tiny clearing in which the well sat.

“’Figured it was best to learn where everything was in case I needed to know how to get around later,” he answered. “What about yah? Why are yah out here if it’s so rare for people to come this way?” he asked, still oblivious to the fact that she had been stalking him since he’d passed from the garden proper to the heavily forested section. As far as Gunnar knew, their meeting at the well was a chance encounter.

His laughter sent chills through her spine, as she stood there with a piercing smile against her lips. Assumption of darkness had brought this girl a cocky tune to her behavior. ''A Pot of Gold indeed I am searching for, in any metaphorical matter I can claim prize to it.'' Her gentle smile turned on itself and crept into the corners of her smile, intoxicating the gentle smile into a twisted humor smirk. In this moment she found a light to ignite her wire, a certain part of her that had not erupted since she was a young lass lost in the mountains of Romania.

''Can I be blamed for wanting to test the dangers edge and find solace within the grips of a deadly monster? Finding a shadowed boy lost in the tunnels, meeting the Dark Shadow far more than one can count...'' Her voice trailed off before her eyes set back onto his face once more, with nothing more than a happily grimacing face. ''Or that ties of suffering bring me into the depths of the woods, hunting, hoping, waiting for something to appear in the vast emptiness that repetitively is our soul?''

Her breath caught, and silence was brought amongst them as she stood there in a gaping matter. Shocked at her vocal abilities towards this man, finding herself lost in who she really was at that moment in time. With a gentle smile, her face blushed into a deep red as small hands collapsed into the corners of her face, covering her mouth. With this motion she took a quick and simple bow, keeping herself low, brown locks flushed over the white dressed shoulders and revealed a dark mystery that laid in ink along her upper back shoulders.

''Please excuse me sir, I did not mean to burst out on such an unsuspecting moment. My apologies.'' Her eyes grew wide, one had changed into it's white focus from an earlier insanity and the other remained green as bright as the hills along the Irish coast.

If rhetoric was gold, Gunnar would’ve probably seen the girl glowing with the full spectrum as a rainbow extended from her lips to the sky. Even without the rainbow and gold, Gunnar fixed her with a hard gaze beneath arched eyebrows. “Danger ain’t something to take lightly, miss. Plenty a’ people get killed each year ‘cause they forgot that,” stated the elder with a cluck of his tongue. Seems that youngin’s always want to go seeking adventure in whatever way they can find it, thought the cowboy as he rested his hands on the handles of his revolvers.

“It’s fine, missy,” he muttered, lifting a hand from his gun to dismiss her apology with a wave. “No need to apologize for not doin’ a thing.” He forced a smile as he looked at her eyes. They seemed a little off to him, and then he realized that the colors didn’t match. Eyebrows shooting up, he asked, “Yer eyes usually mismatched? Yah might wanna check in at the infirmary.”

Her face changed from her smile to a slight pout, only smirking slightly as she took another coin from her pocket, swirling it through her fingers. ''Danger I wont take kindly to heart, it's corrupt and dangerous. Young ones like I get hurt if there isn't more experienced folk around...'' Taking a step up to the well once again, the clicking of his tongue playing in her head before she shut her eyes, lifted the coin to her lips, kissed it once gently and let it drop down into the well.

As he spoke of her eyes, she couldn't help but smile as the rose to match his face. She gave him a nod. ''It's a new stage for my eyes, better than what it was last...I've always been a hybrid child though, green and blue were my colors before hand. I'm not sure what the doctors would say if we had some...'' She gave a soft laugh as she moved from the well with her last with given, she folded her hands over her stomach, tilting her head as she watched him. ''You are quite attached to your guns....''

One minute she was talking about seeking danger for the thrill, the next she was speaking about the troubles it could cause. Such an odd girl indeed, thought Gunnar again with a light shake of his head. As she drew another coin from her pocket and approached the well again, he wondered what it was the girl was wishing for the second time around. He decided it was better not to ask though, given how strange her behaviors were—her wishes were probably just as weird.

“A hybrid child?” he repeated, wondering if she meant anything beyond the two shades for her eyes. The last time he’d heard the term though, it meant something far different, far more dangerous. “Huh?” he blinked, glancing down at his firearms on which his hands rested and then to her. “Yeah, suppose so. Hard not to be attached to somethin’ that’s saved yer life on more than one occasion.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders, dismissing the topic. As he gave the well a sidelong glance, he tried to bury the memories again. How much he wished he could toss some of them down into that well and let the darkness of it swallow them up—he wouldn’t even bother listening for the kerplunk of them splashing into the well-waters. “So, yah one-a the students ‘ere?”

He spoke with questions, like riddles to her ears only made her smile. The echo of her coin dropping to the waters below, making a comforting splashing sound at the bottom of the well. Taking her time as she wished her final wish, hoping perhaps this one may come true. So many wishes would have been dropped in this, so many times would she have said her own wishes to stars, moons and trees.

''Hybrid child, one bred of two different species, races. Complex DNA so to speak.'' She smiled a moment as he seemed not to care of that subject, something seemed off about him. The sound tender caress of the summers wind rushing against her skin, pressing into her hair, letting a comforting groan escape from her lips. ''I suppose if something had saved my life over and over, I would feel great gratitude towards it as well.. Must make great companions.''

She would give but a gentle nod as she turned to face the field that she had walked through all this time, enjoyed the touch of it's gentle blades as she ran through it chasing after the country man she had gotten to speak to. ''A student? Oh yes, I am. Have my own room and everything. How about yourself? A student? Teacher?'' She was honestly interested in talking with this man, but did not know to approach him. All she knew was he was very different, and so was she, so this would be a different point of view.

When he heard her explanation, he fidgeted for a moment. The wrinkles on his weathered face spelled out his unease before he quelled the reaction and his features were washed of emotion. He regarded her, calm and stolid, for a few seconds. So, the girl could fall into the category of potentially dangerous, assessed the former hunter. With a shake of his head, he dismissed the thought. It was a life he wanted to put behind him, but the habits his profession had instilled haunted him all the time. Thankfully, the conversation had turned in the other direction.

“Yup, great companions. Don’t talk much, but makes sure everybody hears ‘em when they do,” he chuckled, a small smile spanning his lips as he patted the handles of his revolvers. His affectionate touch was reminiscent of a man petting his favorite hunting dog, an animal that performed a duty and provided companionship for its owner.

“Not entirely sure.” Gunnar shook his head, deciding it was best to leave out that he had received a mysterious missive inviting him to the school. So far, he still had no idea who the sender had been or their motives for offering him shelter at the school. Before he got too lost in his thoughts, he gave a shrug. “Got a room and that’s about it. Wasn’t approached about signing up for classes or teaching nothin’. Not rightly sure who is in charge of this school. I know that the boy named Riley runs the registrations, but he hardly seems like the authority figure for the entire school.” Gunnar turned his gaze from the girl to the direction of the school, though the trees hid it from his sight.

The look upon his face made her realize she should quiet her tone on speaking of herself. Somethings are better left unsaid. With a smile on her face as she watched the man, listening to his accent play from his lips. This was actually enjoyable, his accent was a comfortable friendly tone that she couldn't see anyone truly finding it offensive. Her arms crossed over her chest, as she stared out into the big blue sky, the tops of the school stretching into the sky as the rest hid behind the forest.

''I'm sure when they want to be, they can be quite loud..'' She spoke quickly in between his words like a small hush. Then listened to him again as he spoke, and she came to see that he was invited here, but under what terms she did not know. As for herself, she knew she was a student, she had come for interaction of the outside world and more acknowledgment of her actual abilities instead of having to hide them all of the time. But this man, seemed so normal compared to a handful of people that came into the school.''I'm sure though when the time comes, you will find out why you have been called here...And who knows, it might be way more interesting than going to classes...'' She would only shake her head at that comment, she did enjoy going to her classes though.

Her comment, agreeing with his previous statement about his guns, made the older man smirk. Hybrid or not, she didn't seem to be a danger to anyone, other than maybe herself due to her klutziness. From what he could tell, she didn't even appear to be armed. Normally, he wouldn't think twice about a person being weaponless since it was the common practice in most places, but at the school, he'd already seen a danger or two, and heard of far more. Recalling her sudden appearance by the well though, he wondered if she kept her weapons as well hidden as she had originally kept herself. A person who could stalk silently through a forest, where twigs waited to snap like tripwires and leaves waited to crinkle like depressing pressure plates beneath ones feet, was a likely candidate for concealed weapons. Would she have a knife or a small firearm? he wondered briefly. Probably both, if any.


Gunnar eyed her as she offered her vague insight on his predicament. For a second, he was silent and then gave a nod of approval. "Maybe, but sometimes interestin' isn't what a man wants." He gave a smile to her as he gestured towards their surroundings. "It ain't home, but I like the calm of this place. There's a peace here that while unfamiliar is..." he paused for a moment, trying to think of an adequate word, but in the end he gave a light shake of his head, deciding that no word suited it better than, "comfortin'." Gunnar let his gaze gravitate back towards the school for a moment. "How're yah findin' yer stay 'ere, miss? Everythang to yer likin'?"

She was calming talking to this man now, he seemed less like a threat now than when she had first seen him. And only a gentle smile played on her lips as his accent grew thick into his speech patterns, She truly enjoyed his drawl and it was comforting to hear him so confident and comfortable with it here in Ireland. The green hills turning orange as the sun had began to move towards the woods, causing light to be caught by the trees and hills that formed the lands.

Her body would shift and her eyes would land upon his face once more, as he stared out towards the school. ‘’It’s not what I expected.. That’s for certain. But it is very nice. It will take some time to get used to this though….’’ She said the last part of her sentence under her breath, wondering about it all together. And only a moment she kept her thoughts on everything that had happened to this point, and that understood, she barely held onto her sanity to this moment.

Scars pressed into her fingers, new gifts bestowed upon her from new accompanying guests. The last thing she needed at this moment was a letter from her parents or anyone from her homeland saying some grim news. But that was on the last of her mind, home is something she had not thought of for many days, weeks at that. Things had gotten so wild and crazy in this time of school and she hadn’t but started one class as of yet. So she disdained herself to all of this only taking a deep breath as she turned her head back up to the man who accompanied her out in this evening.

’’But for a home away from home, it is quite exquisite, I can say for myself, I would not have met anyone like the people I’ve met here anywhere else…’’

He nodded, agreeing with her statements. One comment echoed particularly strongly in his mind as he listened: “a home away from home.” Perhaps that was how he should think of the school to which he had come instead of trying to remember where he had come from so frequently. The girl had given him something to think over.

As the light beneath the forest canopy began to dim, he gave a gentle shrug of his shoulders. With the failing light, he knew that the sun was near the end of its descent and soon the stars would be visible as tiny specks of light between the leaves overhead. “Well…” he began, his voice trailing off until the sound was as insubstantial as the mist that was beginning to form across the forest floor. “Probably time to head back. Dun wanna be caught out in the woods aftah dark with no sure way back to the castle.”

“Yah got here on yer own, yah think yah can get back the same way, or yah wanna follow me?” he asked, eyeing the girl. Again, his hands perched atop the exposed handles of his revolvers. The wood had cooled in the absence of his hands and the sensation was refreshing as the faint chill spread across his fingertips. Gunnar gave a nod of his head in the direction of the school and waited for an answer before heading towards it.
[Exits Unless Stopped]

With only but a moment to spare, she quickly took a deep breath and with a gentle bow a smile would appear on the darkened lips as she rose to her stature once again. [color=white] ''Thank you dear sir, but I have a stop to make on my way back to the castle, so I abid you adue and do hope to see you again in our travels of life.'' With a simple turn on her heel she ventured out into the long grass, her fingers catching the tops of the grassy blades, taking but a moment in her strides to stare at the rising sun above her head.

Quickly she turned back to the cowboy in the mist and with a smile on her lips she lifted her hand. She waved to him ''Good-bye shadow cowboy, and may your travels be pampered with delight and delicious tours.'' With that she would turn back into the long blades of grass, a hum escaping her lips as she dragged on through the soon coming dark night, back into the line of the woods she would hide and retreat.

[Exit Thread unless stopped or something.]