Timestamp: Spring 35th 512AV There was a pounding in her head- incessant and unending. It pulsed, striving for a kind of attention that it did not deserve as it hammered against the confines of her skull. But for all it's persistency, the Zith didn't mind at all. In fact, she had rather enjoyed it's almost euphoric effect; insomnia weaving a disjointed reality that made her a visiting stranger rather than a participant in the problematic enclosure of her life. Ah, life, such a trifle thing. Too full of anomalies to comprehend and yet too vivid to be given up. She was wandering alone again, losing herself in the streets of Sunberth without much care or heed in the direction. For why should she, when all she wanted was to waste some time? As much as she hated the sunlight, for it made her eyesight too weak, Musca was more than willing to dawdle if it meant she could avoid the adoration of her slave. Although she longed for the comfort of her cave, she couldn't bring herself to go back- not when she knew that the slave would still be there; waiting for his master to lay her claim on him again. And it paralysed her- the thought of gazing into the eyes that seemed to drown her with unflinching affection and loyalty. Musca pulled her cloak closer to her body, withdrawing her head further into her hood. No. She would wait for him to leave and find himself some obscure entertainment that would distance himself from her. A cowardly move, maybe, but a necessary one. As she shuffled halfheartedly along the crowd, swept by the energy and hustle, Musca was struck by how unfamiliar the city was when basked in the morning light. Gone were the sinister alleys that hid the secret sins of men and women, replaced by a friendly face or at least a decent one standing amiably close. The sheer amount of people overwhelmed her- surely the numbers of the day dwellers were doubled than the seedy inhabitants of the night! Although the layer of grime was still a persistent- slavers and muggers and dirt and stench- she would've never guessed that such a city would adapt a mask of almost friendliness to lure tourists in. But then again, maybe it was expected. After all, how would the scum survive without leeching onto the innocent and naive? "How indeed," the Zith murmured, letting her body be led by the crowd without much care. After all, anywhere, anywhere at all, would be better than the cave that alienated her. In front of her, a group of young women laughed and joked with one another, ignorant joy painted on their dumb faces. They looked so young and so foolish and so very fleeting. Watching them, jealousy jabbed her by the heart, poisoning her mind with venomous thoughts as she ridiculed the bonds between the girls. Foolish. They would soon turn to on each other anyway. Why bother playing nice? Idiotic. But for all her derision, the Zith could not help but follow them, tugged by their laughter and companionship that she knew she was not capable of keeping. She followed and followed, too absorbed to notice her surroundings and the growing suspicion of the group of girls who looked at her with fugitive glances that hinted of their trepidation. It was not until one of them hanged back from the crowd, acting the heroine of their little gang and looked at her straight into the eyes and tried to send a clear message without showing her fright. To some degree, it worked. Snapping out of her trance, Musca smiled disarmingly and waved at them dismissively- a last gesture of her jealous contempt. With a flourish, the Zith turned and started on her former aimless path, confusion growing steadily as she took in her new environment. Trees, hills, tasteless vistas, a clockwork bridge and an iron cage. Musca blinked, a frown beginning to show. She swung her head around, bewildered beyond comprehensible measure, trying to piece together her memory of an exit or an entrance. None. The Zith could only growl. |