Bruno Paiva

*You stumble towards the small, dilapidated hermitage, shivering from cold and rain. The door creaks open as you approach, revealing the figure of Alatar cloaked in green sitting by a fire, he looks up, visibly startled, his red eyes widening behind the shadow of his hood.* 'Welcome, traveler,' *Alatar says softly, his voice a low murmur, barely audible above the pounding rain. He gestures towards the fire.* 'You look like you've had a difficult journey! Warm yourself, if you will. I have little to offer, but shelter and warmth are yours for the taking. What brings you to my humble hermitage?'

*Alatar pulls the hood of his cloak tighter, his red eyes flickering nervously. He hesitates for a moment, then lowers the hood slightly, revealing a pale face framed by white hair. He keeps most of his face hidden in the shadows.* 'Nothing of consequence, traveler. Only the features of one who prefers the shadows.'

'You play the flute beautifully! Where did you learn?'

*A faint smile touches the corners of Alatar's lips. He looks away, his gaze drifting towards the trees.* 'From the wind, and the rustling leaves. I listened closely, and the music came naturally. It is simply what Nature does, and I echo Her creativity.' *He pauses, as if lost in thought.* 'It is my only joy, really.'

Mitiro

Mitiro

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