Thick-skinned (Ifran)

by **Laszlo** on October 31st, 2011, 7:58 am

I will return home someday. Laszlo's golden eyes pensively slid off the bronze skinned Eypharian as the weight of his words struck a vulnerable chord, until, blinking slowly, he turned his head and looked away. Though home was almost certainly an earthly place for the wayward prince, Ifran had spoken the phrase with a certain solemnity that piqued Laszlo's notice. There was a trace of doubt in those words. Or was it more than that?

"Uh." Laszlo made a chagrined noise as he shook the distractions from his head. He balled his hands in his pockets, sucking in his lip as he mulled over his answer. "I was in Kalinor until recently. I needed to leave the caves, and get back out into the sun. The Symenestra were familiar with Alvadas, and there was a trade caravan heading that direction. I joined them." He narrowed his eyes, glaring at nothing in particular. "The City of Illusions… it sounded perfect. You say your blood is high, and I struggle to understand what you mean by that, but… this world, Ifran. This world isn't for me. Rather Kalinor or Syliras, I wish to be in a place that… defies reality? I don't know."

Glancing upward, Laszlo spied the fringes of the Bizarre up ahead, the bright sun glancing off garishly colored trade carts. A small flock of Alvad patrons drifted in and out of view, examining the wares in stock. The sweet and salty smells of food, mixed with the acrid odor of livestock, passed Laszlo's nostrils and triggered a wave of relief. At the same time, he loathed having such earthly concern for the market's existence. "What does it matter, what earth passes under my feet? It's all the same. None of it is real to me. Life is but a waking nightmare. It doesn't end."

Suddenly Laszlo cleared his throat. "Sorry. It looks like you've found the Bizarre." He tried a smile.

by **Ifran** on November 1st, 2011, 3:49 am

Ifran listened to Laszlo's recitation of his short second life down here upon the ground, and sighed before explaining his own meaning. It was not Laszlo's fault, but certainly nobody outside Ahnatep understood the way Eypharian politics worked, how the Noble Houses ruled and his blood was more costly than gold.

"My grandfather helped put the ruler of Ahnatep upon her throne, and our family was already prominent to begin with. We have wealth and influence merely by virtue of our blood and upbringing. It is a sacred thing in Ahnatep, but some of us work ceaselessly to better ourselves, to fulfill the potential of our 'high' blood.

"I came here too for the illusions," he added, acknowledging some tenuous link between them, at least so far as their goals took them to this city of shifting reality. He glanced at Laszlo then, another man mixed with elements of the divine. They were always so sad, the ethaefal, and out here without much in the way of connection to home, he had trouble not picking up on it and making it his own.

If his grandfather had meant him to marry higher than his sights had risen, he would not have let him go away so far. Perhaps he should just be content with a life in the theater, a life of hard work, but more luxury. It was a slippery slope to corruption.

"Ah, the Bizarre." He paused, wondering if this was farewell. It was rare to find someone with whom he could converse, someone who might be considered an equal. "I suppose I should leave you to your shopping. If you require assistance, just ask for me at the Crooked Playhouse."

by **Laszlo** on November 4th, 2011, 5:57 pm

"Yes." The breathy, half-formed word escaped Laszlo's tongue before the thought had a chance to finish. The Ethaefal had aimed his golden stare at the Bizarre's cavernous entrance, worried that if he took his eyes away from it, it might crawl to some other far pocket of the city. He tuned his ears to the muted clamor of trade, little moved by the zealous advertising of wares calling out to the gullible and the rich. Laszlo was a creature of thrift, and bought only what was necessary to continue surviving. He had little interest in anything he couldn't take with him to the next life.

Satisfied that as long as he could hear the Bizarre, it couldn't slip away from him, Laszlo turned back to Ifran. "The Crooked Playhouse," he affirmed with an absent nod, tasting the somewhat sinister name of the place with stiff disapproval. Alvadas did so like its childish monikers.

The warm amber in the Ethaefal's countenance was hard. Inwardly he was disappointed with himself; he had said more than he'd meant to. The futility of complaint only reminded him of his helplessness. "It's been good talking with you, Ifran. I appreciate the help. I'm sure we'll meet again."

With a final nod, the Ethaefal turned away without further ceremony and headed into the shadow of the ornate structure, consciously guarding his coin purse.

by **Paragon** on December 10th, 2011, 10:37 pm

Laszlo :

Ifran :

I'm here to help sort out Fallacy's backlog of threads. Enjoyable meeting guys, you captured the spirit of the illusion city really well - if you have ANY questions or concerns about this grading, don't hesitate to PM me.