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The tree’s rustling, ethereal laughter ripples about the clearing as the Earth’s daughter at last says more than a quickly stammered, defensive syllable. That the girl so quickly tries to redirect the conversation to something as inane as starwhales (what they even are, the oak hasn’t the slightest clue), says more about the reasons she hadn’t told Zèklè about the path she’d begun to walk than her lame excuse.
So you’re a tree now, too? She thinks to ask. Forever rooted in one place, unable to venture or embrace the world beyond the same clearing? Even she was not that trapped, able to see far lands through a distant eye; her roots tangled tightly around those of her children and kin, whose roots further tangled with those beyond her sight. How else could she have known Isopia’s name, or her role in the world? How else would she have called the girl here? As long as they could embrace one another in the dark serenity of the Earth’s arms, seeing and feeling through one another, no tree was ever truly confined to their clearing at all.
Regardless, no tree ever feared change. What a useless worry, tirelessly wearing on the heart, because everything was always changing.
Before she can say anything of the like, however, the mechanical boy’s voice rising in the wake of the tree’s leafy laughter. Hushing the other trees about her, the strange stillness takes over each twig and yellowing leaf as Zèklè, bold, sweet Zèklè, teaches Isopia of friendship.
A branch trails outwards from the tree, gently pressing beneath the boy’s downcast chin, as if to draw his eyes upwards.
"Because you are truly her friend," she finishes, "and a good one, too, whether you are just a kid, or not."
Ascending upwards, the branch that touched Zekle’s chin reappears some moments later, a necklace dangling from its length.
"Trust, Isopia. The Earth would be barren if not for the Sun’s light, and the wind’s careful placement of each seed," she explains, as the trinket descends towards the painted Mountain, "only Time can reveal what will take root. Will you grow to be an ensnaring briar, harming all who come near you, or a tree, sheltering them instead?"
It’s a simple looking thing, when the necklace comes into clear view; it’s seemingly unremarkable, except that the tree has obviously owned it for some time. The aquamarine, water droplet shaped stone itself, and plant fiber strand that holds it, are both smeared with dust and tree sap, and the oak offers it to Isopia.
"I think you are meant to be a tree, after all," smiles the oak, "but this should certainly help you along the way."
[ Isopia is given an aquamarine pendant by the tree:
:: [Item | Magical Compass | Glows white when ones actions work towards the moral “good.” ]
U | Glows black when ones actions aren’t morally “good.”
The tree will happily keep talking with Isopia and Zèklè as long as they’d like! ]
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