Accommodating pupils witnessed scattered auburn islets of fervor aeronautically echoing Escheresque cartography and Dali-like landscaping, from the bonfire, fluxing smoke amidst the unraveling mist; reality’s backcloth had quickly dissected into visual pointillism, with the abyssal flames consuming but remnants of radiance and rock, as the herald’s owner, a cachectic elder, evicted from the memorial’s merriment and the sweet agony of martyrdom, approached the five. His right forearm wiped a smiling cheek, dripping a thin trail of blind tears. His conflicting burgundy and jade attire betrayed his sight and fashion, mirroring the absence of distress in his bleached eyes, as the tempter hobbled closer into view to better glean the friendly quibble between Egil and Talran.
 
[color=deepskyblue]'No need for a fight, my friend; we surely have time to discover what draws us together, in this place, since we don't appear to be in grave danger.'[/color] 

Starovir finally cackled, to the blue-eyed blonde’s piercing miscarriage of an assessment. [color=39b54a]"Do not fret. Draw near. Be warm. We all have no wish to make enemies of Lady Eva.”[/color] His elbows spread wide, stretching out a facsimile of a crucifixion. [color=39b54a]“I would like to tell you all a story before we go.”[/color]

As the archaic silhouette heedlessly impregnated the silvery smog once more, several fresh garlands burdened over disturbed soil could be deciphered, only for a mere moment, from the puzzling horror, before a bubbling verdant flagon somersaulted, eventually landing afore the feet of the handler and the knight.

[color=39b54a]“First drink, then listen."[/color]