You have not been here.

These words were simplistic in their nature and did not hide any colors; no red or sharpness caught in between word-thoughts.

Crouched as she was near (but far) some bench near establishment’s doorway. Vines and roses grew across wood work.

“Xas.” The only answer she had given in response at first, though it held certain questions that she dared not put to air. Always, always knowing that the balance was off—you did not push what did not need to be.

Stones were piled one atop the other in the span of time neither of them said anything, and for them time meant nothing (everything). Until claws tick tapped together in prayer mockery, woven over the tops of knees.

He remarked upon the newest shimmer to her collection, raven that she was she tilted head to the right and the side as if to further the illusion of more creature than elf.

“Xas. A trinket, it shines.” This, to her, was a reasonable explanation as to why a new gem winked faded light from around her neck. Its setting was less than presentable, she did not work in metal, more worked metal into others.

For minutes or hours more, there was silence again. Until she moved, slick-slide and sly toward the leaning form upon bench—a faithful hound returned to master.

There weren’t any words at all, in fact. For a very long time after that.

The wolf had taught her many things, strange things, in madness and in love.

Though neither was the sort of mind to call it such things, for it was filled with blood, pain, waking dreams and nightmares.

As with all Wild Things, the drow roamed and the wolf wandered.

When she returned, she had taken the lessons he had taught her and kept them; but set her eyes to places that the wolf could not touch.

Thus, was an ending of sorts, to this tale of a broken drow and her reconstruction.

And with all endings, came a new beginning.