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Thyme

Gender: Male

Parents/Affinity: Forest Song

Special Stats: None

Circle: The Phoenix Gate

From: Sionayra

The first impression anyone gets from Thyme is his scent - has the most pleasant aroma lingering within his aura at all times. There seems to be no true reason for this, nor does it seem to be a particular scent such as Frolic's rain-fresh-flower one. Thyme, in all honesty, smells of every aspect of forest, from earth to woodsy to the crisp impression of freshly crushed leaves and the sweet-damp of thriving brush.

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It may be partially for this reason that the others have decided to bestow the title of Dryad. It is nearly impossible to discern him from the shaded trails within the forest he dwells, a light and gentle land with many meandering ivies and wide-reaching ferns.

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He enjoys being one with his home, so the nickname is quite fitting. There are many kind of forests here; in his, there is a level of cripness and sheltering shadows that can not be found elsewhere. He walks the endless winding trails and enjoys the vast variety of plants, nibbling as he desires while the wildlife around him continue without any knowledge of his presence. In a way he is the unseen guardian of his lands; for beyond a handsome coat which blends seamlessly to nature herself, he enjoys being useful. Our Dryad has been known to clear the streams after a beaver leaves too much mess so that the deer can drink easier, or to kick down a tree to block a path that became dangerous after a hard rain. He is rarely seen without a welcoming smile, and it's even less likely to see him standing still for long; his limbs always sway in time to the brush and trees around him as he enjoys that which is his domain.

Not every advantage his coat lends him is strictly for quietly disappearing. Thyme has been known to stalk intruders on more than one occasion, his love and protection for all things that are green and peaceful turning him into a near-predatory creature when he feels it needs defending. Peace had been hard to come by for him for a long, painful time; it is sacred to him now, to have this place to quietly walk. There are only the yearly storms here - otherwise, the clouds condense above the tops of the giant trees, allowing a slow and constant trickle of nourishment periodically. His favorite aspect is how sheltered his forest is; no matter where you look it is a blur of green and brown trails. It is, for him, a perfect moderation of being too open as a woodland would be, such as Firefly hath chosen, or too cloying as a rain forest, the match that Frolic needed. It is his sanctuary; he knows very well the ways in which he can use it to his own advantage.

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Even so, the moments where he is the most peaceful are whence he has company. For the moment he lays next to me, disappearing under the shade of a fern and the moss on a stone next to the trail we had been meandering along. He lays in perfect contentment, a half smile upon his muzzle as he begins to doze, perfectly happy to lay motionsless so long as he can hear my quill and feel my breath rise against his flank. His land is full of live, vitality and a crisp freshness that almost mirrors his scent; it is this life and company which brings him the most sense of peace and joy.

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All together it can be said that Thyme, our own Dryad, can be called the walking woodlands, for he always seems to be the embodiment of all his forest represents. He was literally created to be a silent guardian and at times even a guide along the trails.

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It can even be said that he sounds like the forest, his voice coming in a thick burr that resembles the scrape of plant-fuzz over earth, stone or bark. The most striking feature, however, must be said as being his smile. It is an open, sincere smile he greets with. There lays a true appreciation within it, one which claims that he accepts both who and how you are. When followed by his uniquely enticing aroma and the burr of leaves over bark, it is neigh on impossible not to fall in love with this Dryad stallion. Thyme is as welcoming and sheltering as his home.

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