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[adamantlyardent]

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[adamantlyardent]

I wasn't raised around humans, so I can't say I can share the same lens of perspective in such a way; elves are a wholly different thing entirely as far as "youthful good looks" are concerned.

[borntobebard]

Oh. Was it in Golden Palaces or more like hiding away in the woods? Most the elves I know of these days tend to squirrel themselves away in woodlands. Scoia'tael; roughly translates to squirrel, in fact.

[adamantlyardent]

Not so grandiose as all that...or at least, not bedecked in gold. The city I grew up in was ornate, but more akin to replicating the ornate aesthetic of the nature we were within. And it’s not so much hiding out of necessity as it is...being willfully secluded? The city kept to itself for the most part, far as I knew it. Not that I’m an expert on its geopolitics.

[borntobebard]

Ah. It sounds rather wonderful, exclusion aside. Did you not venture beyond?

[adamantlyardent]

I did, though not for the joy of the journey.
Someone had forged my work, you see. I had to find out who and set things right...and burn every copy that made its way out of my hands.

[borntobebard]

That is quite the protection of one's property. Then again, I'm not quite sure what I'd do if someone were to copy my life's work. I've had many imitators, but none that have dared plagiarise.

[adamantlyardent]

Yes, well, I was not very keen on it, so I did what I thought I had to. Things didn't exactly go the way I planned.
Then again, does anything ever?

[borntobebard]

I find it best not to have a plan, then they can't go awry.
How did it go, then, if not to plan?

[adamantlyardent]

Not great.
Who knows, perhaps I’ll be doomed in exile here forever, never to know the ripple my work has caused out in that world. Ignorance is bliss as they say.

[borntobebard]

Sounds like the perfect get out clause to me.
Why was it such a travesty that your work got out the way it did? Was it forged poorly?

[adamantlyardent]

Worse. They were word for word my stories — stories not meant for popular consumption. It was humiliating.

[borntobebard]

Ah, many a private thought within.
But who you write your stories for, if not the general populous?

[adamantlyardent]

Myself. My dreams. The self in my dreams, better and wiser and braver in all ways.

[borntobebard]

Perhaps that self deserves to be out in the wild, seen by others.

[adamantlyardent]

Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. You can’t redo first impressions, right?

[borntobebard]

No, but you can use that to make the second impression all the better.
I can't say my first impressions are always as suave as I hope for.
I mean, I made you cry.

[adamantlyardent]

That’s more a testament of your tenacity than any general truth. We can’t all bounce back.

[borntobebard]

I believe we all can, some just need a little extra time. I suppose that ladder metaphor comes back into play.

[adamantlyardent]

You really are determined to make that happen, aren't you.

[borntobebard]

Hah! Well once I get my mind on something...
I think you're worth the time and effort. You have more value than you realise.

[adamantlyardent]

You really are a bard, both in practice and in spirit.

[borntobebard]

That might be one of the nicest things ever said to me.

[adamantlyardent]

I doubt it will remain so, if your aspirations of fame hold true. Lots of people in this world adore those of us stranded here simply because we're from other worlds. You've already got your foot in the door.

[borntobebard]

I know of fame. I'm quite the name in my own world; a writer of many of the greatest ballads, and a popular choice to entertain at royal affairs. But the adoration of the masses pales in comparison to a genuine word from a true friend.

[adamantlyardent]

You've only just met me, and already I'm labeled a true friend?