Timestamp: 4th of Fall, 511 AV
The chattering and chirping of invisible birds stung in her ears. Reaching for the seams of the coat, she rolled her hands up into fists covered by black fabric. Akajia’s chill hadn’t yet left the air, coloring it crystal-clear and cool, although a first taste of humidity already invaded it, serving as Syna’s messenger.
The Nuit, cold like an iceberg in the Suvan Sea, halfheartedly tried to escape the endless noise of the rainforest. Of course, it was impossible. Her consciousness drifted away, wandered over land and water, hills and woods and lakes, until reaching Sylira. Which city it was, which place she would rather be in, she couldn’t tell. A shroud of darkness. Her heart didn’t crave for warmth or comfort, not anymore, but for something entirely different. The opposite even.
She walked around a corner and approached the next tree trunk. If she wrapped her arms around it twice, her fingers would probably connect at the other side. Steps were carved into its wood, klutzy forms, exposing the color of ivory under layers of bark. Even without following its course, she knew it led to the Inner Petals.
In the shadow of the staircase the cloak slipped from her shoulders and her body sank to the wooden floor. Made of wood and plants, the entire city seemed to breathe under and around her, hypnotizing her through its heartbeat. She didn’t particularly like it, yet managed to ignore it. The coat served as a layer of protection from the life pulsing under her body... or was it an illusion?
Closing her eyes, she lowered her head a bit. Her hands came to rest on her knees. The chill and beginning warmth of the day slipped from her mind like the silk blue color from the sky. The Nuit had found a place untouched by Syna’s fire.
Her mind sank deeper and deeper. A journey into her own depths. Even though she did the exact same thing before magical rituals, she still found it difficult to let everything go. There was so much... no. The flow of time and the pulsing of life all around her... it didn’t matter. Not anymore.
Because she was eternal and timeless and untouched by her environment. She existed without. Simply existed. And then time forgot her.
The chattering and chirping of invisible birds stung in her ears. Reaching for the seams of the coat, she rolled her hands up into fists covered by black fabric. Akajia’s chill hadn’t yet left the air, coloring it crystal-clear and cool, although a first taste of humidity already invaded it, serving as Syna’s messenger.
The Nuit, cold like an iceberg in the Suvan Sea, halfheartedly tried to escape the endless noise of the rainforest. Of course, it was impossible. Her consciousness drifted away, wandered over land and water, hills and woods and lakes, until reaching Sylira. Which city it was, which place she would rather be in, she couldn’t tell. A shroud of darkness. Her heart didn’t crave for warmth or comfort, not anymore, but for something entirely different. The opposite even.
She walked around a corner and approached the next tree trunk. If she wrapped her arms around it twice, her fingers would probably connect at the other side. Steps were carved into its wood, klutzy forms, exposing the color of ivory under layers of bark. Even without following its course, she knew it led to the Inner Petals.
In the shadow of the staircase the cloak slipped from her shoulders and her body sank to the wooden floor. Made of wood and plants, the entire city seemed to breathe under and around her, hypnotizing her through its heartbeat. She didn’t particularly like it, yet managed to ignore it. The coat served as a layer of protection from the life pulsing under her body... or was it an illusion?
Closing her eyes, she lowered her head a bit. Her hands came to rest on her knees. The chill and beginning warmth of the day slipped from her mind like the silk blue color from the sky. The Nuit had found a place untouched by Syna’s fire.
Her mind sank deeper and deeper. A journey into her own depths. Even though she did the exact same thing before magical rituals, she still found it difficult to let everything go. There was so much... no. The flow of time and the pulsing of life all around her... it didn’t matter. Not anymore.
Because she was eternal and timeless and untouched by her environment. She existed without. Simply existed. And then time forgot her.