The journey with Darcy through the streets of Zeltiva from the Quill's Rest was a quiet one, though the air between them had a sort of magnetic charge as their anticipation for the coming events heightened with each footstep closer to the pier. Mak'Viri clutched her cloak to her and looked around the docks. Dappled now in silver moonlight, the grey stone of the city seemed to glimmer incandescently. It painted a gorgeous picture, this nightfall scenery. She imagined that, were she able to, she would paint this, too, one day. The chirping of crickets broke the gentle silence, and as the staccato beat of their footsteps neared the docks, the wind rustled the folds of the anchored ships' sails, the waves lapped gently upon the shore, and the quiet of the night had settled around the sleepy city. Here now on the wharf that creaked beneath their feet, and Mak'Viri moved closer to Darcy as they looked around. Her cloak swirled behind her like a ghost in the shadows. She looked upward at the star-encrusted sky to the bright, nearly full moon. It bathed the waters in light brighter than that of a torch or lantern. Mak'Viri smiled. Looking back down a little to peer at Darcy's shadowed face, she asked quietly, ”Which ship belongs to your friend?” They had already stopped to find the man at the World's End Grotto and attained permission to use the ship with the condition that they restock whatever they used when they returned. As Mak'Viri had that money, she had agreed to this condition for both of them. The promise of an adventure lingered in the air, exciting and electric, dancing between them. Mak'Viri, restless from being in Zeltiva for far longer than she had anticipated, was more than eager to explore, even if it was only nearby. She honestly couldn't wait to explore some new place. And as that anticipation tingled on her tongue, Mak'Viri found her gaze wandering to the horizon, wondering what could lay beyond it for them to find. |