by Ambrose Kain on October 25th, 2011, 6:52 am
Fall 30rd, 511AV
Late afternoon
There was a face, a giant face made of stone no less, currently staring at him. No gate, no guards, no discernible method of entering the city of Alvadas, save for that bizarre, mouth-shaped hole, perfectly fitted to admit entry to a man--or to snap closed in front of him, should the wall so choose.
Wait, what was he thinking? Walls didn't choose, they didn't have the requisite sentience to form opinions and pass judgment, not even walls that were carved into human-like faces. Not even walls with eyes that seemed to stare right through a man, down into the essence of him, seeing him for all he pretended to be and all he really was...
All at once, a voice reverberated somewhere within his consciousness, and his first impulse--shamefully unmasculine--was to yelp. Ambrose managed to cut the cry off before it leaked out, but he couldn't stop himself from gawking at the wall and behind himself, frantically trying to determine the source of the voice. Yet even as he twisted to look over his shoulder at the empty road behind him, he knew the answer. Of course it was the wall. After all, as the disembodied voice had just announced to him, this was the City of Illusion. Apparently "illusion" included talking walls.
Well, if this was Alvadas' first Great Wonder to wow visitors with, so be it. As long as the face-thing didn't try to eat him, Ambrose could handle this quite easily. First, naturally, he visibly shook off his spooked expression and replaced it with a smile of perfect gentility and kindness. He didn't know if things like gentility and kindness mattered to a wall, but it couldn't hurt. "Well," he began, in a voice cultured to impress, "Why does anyone come here? I come to see the wonders of Alvadas, of course. I'd like to see the many miracles and wonders this city boasts of with my own eyes."
In retrospect, perhaps he shouldn't have adopted a tone that was quite so haughty. He didn't want to annoy the wall into denying him entry, after all. But it was too late now; the words had already been spoken, and Ambrose very much doubted he'd be granted a re-do, even if he asked in his very nicest way. "Please," he did think to add, though, and afterward sketched an elegant, if slightly self-conscious, curtsey. "If you would be so kind."*