[X] A Half Truth. Tell him of the Tale of Three Brothers, he did ask you to indulge him after all, did he not? Besides, it wouldn't truly be a lie. (DC 5)
As one might expect of a children's fairy tale, the Tale of the Three Brothers is a rather simple, if well-written, story. You had certainly found it enjoyable when you first read the works of Beedle the Bard as a child, and you had re-read it after you had become obsessed with the Hallows in your time at Durmstrang, desperately searching for any hints or clues. You found none of course, but it was enough to relieve your incessant boredom at the time, for a time.
Tangents aside, you focus on the words, the narrative, and you simply let it flow. You admit you might have embellished a tad here and there, though you feel your effort was appreciated, if the subtle interest on the greenseer's features is any indication.
"Quite the tale, truly. Rare it is to hear of any story that deals with the Stranger, for fear of the unknown is known to keep even the brave at bay."
Oh, you know that all too well. Fear of the unknown, fear of change, fear of
magic. Even the Wizarding world, as paradoxical as it may seem, was not immune to such. A few of your jailors had even tried to gloat with how the status quo had been re-established after your downfall, hoping to get a rise out of you. Frankly, you were mostly just disappointed, though there was some slight amusement at how proudly they paraded their ineptitude as if it was some sort of victory. More disconcerting was the fact that you had actually begun to enjoy what bits of Muggle news they happened to throw your way, for at least there was some change there. As you sigh away the bitter memories, you notice the almost expectant expression and feel a hint of embarrassment. All this talk of the Hallows has made you a tad nostalgic.
"My apologies, absentmindedness seems to arrive at the strangest of times."
He waves it off and responds with nonchalance, "I understand. Besides, with how ancient we both are, it's to be expected, no?"
You return his knowing look with a genuine laugh of your own. Honestly, you're not all that surprised, you didn't really expect your looks to fool him after how he brought up the Hallows.
"Nonetheless, I believe I've kept you here long enough. I bid you farewell Gellert Grindelwald, though we will meet again. Whether it will be by your volition or my own, I know not, but I suppose a bit of uncertainty is par for the course."
Leave it to a seer to make a farewell like that, but you figure you might as well part with a bit of cheek as well. "Til next time,
Brynden."
As you break your connection to the weirwood, you feel yourself reel back with a mental whiplash of sorts, leaving you once again staring at its grotesque visage. The chill hits you then, prompting you to try and magick up some heat, which at best somewhat lessens the chattering of your teeth.
Honestly, you tire of this helplessness. A wizard without a wand is as much a wizard as he is a rather whimsical Latin linguist. Your talent at wandless magic is impressive, certainly, but it is a cheap parlor trick compared to what you're capable of with a wand in hand. Fortunately, your research into the Elder Wand brought with it a kind of understanding of wandlore. Perhaps not as in-depth an understanding as Gregorovitch or the Ollivander family would have, but enough not to make a mockery of yourself. So you hope, anyway. There are potential problems however, for even if you are in some manner of forest or wooded area, you have no guarantee whatsoever that you'll be able to find a wood that would suit your needs, and then there's the whole issue of a workable core.
You look around, taking note of the variety of trees you're able to make out. Surprisingly, they are eerily similar to some of the species you are used to, even if there are a few subtle differences. The sky is alien, but the trees... not so much. How odd.
Which will you choose?
[] You will pick one that you are familiar with, for you will not take risks in a matter as precarious as this.
[] Elm. A wood most known for its stability, sophistication, and precision.
[] Maple. A wood that is more adventurous, not to mention curious and ambitious.
[] Walnut. A wood of innovation and invention, of versatility and adaptability.
[] Yew. A wood with a bit of a bad reputation, unusual, but powerful.
[] The weirwood interests you, for both its obviously magical nature, as well as its macabre beauty. You will take the risk, for you feel it is worth it.
Wood in hand, you walk around for awhile, until you happen upon narrow stream with a few stones wide enough to be used as a sort of makeshift table. Not all that optimal for the intricate work ahead of you, but needs must.
You pick out one of the stones best suited for this purpose, as you come to the problem you've been avoiding all this time. You doubt you'll happen upon any dragon heartstrings or phoenix feathers anytime soon, so your options are despondently few.
[] You will use your blood as a core, with all the risks that entails. The wand will no doubt be fickle and temperamental, but at least it will be perfectly suited to you.
[] You will take some water from the stream, no doubt imbued by the ambient magic of this place. You will further imbue it with your own magic. The wand will be feeble and feel a tad hollow, but it will be stable and far less prone to flights of fancy.
[] Write-in. Perhaps you will think of something else?