Solo On Distant Shores

[Ronan]

On Distant Shores "And then I awoke to the sound of waves, and everything had changed." ❖ Timestamp: 22nd Day of Summer, 514 AV Location: Mathew's Bay, Zeltiva ❖ A heady sleep; dreamless and foggy, but punctuated by voices and fragments of things long forgotten. And the darkness was still there, blurring the edges, bleeding into the periphery. He awoke to grogginess, and the gentle swish, swash of beating currents. He was led uncomfortably, head and neck wrapped against a cargo container. The cabin was small and dark, swaying with the noise of the ocean. Ronan turned slightly, sighting the waves out of the small port hole window. The world felt timeless for a moment, Ronan lost within it. Just a speck. A star carried through the vast emptiness of space. "Almost there, they say. We're in the bay now, the city's a little off, but close." The voice was familiar. A grasslands accents. He turned to spy the man from whence the words came. A scruffy looking chap, though Ronan resented himself for the thought. He had let himself go. His fingers subconsciously moved upward, scrubbing through thick, curling locks. He nodded to the man with a vague smile. I hope there's a barber in town.

[Ronan]

When Ronan came out onto the deck, all he could do was stare. In the centre, embraced by the bay, lay Zeltiva - resplendent, and vast. So very vast. Had he been to such a large place before? He could not recollect as much. Even from here, he could see building after building, intricate towers and coloured roofs, buildings climbing up the cliffs. How were there so many people that needed so many buildings? "They say Zeltiva's one of the biggest. Nothing like Syliras of course, but big all the same as far as settlements go." It was one of the sailors who had noticed Ronan's gawping. He turned to the ship worker with astonishment. "How many people live here?" The sailor bobbed his head, mulling over the answer, then pointed out to the city across the water. "Twenty thousand. Maybe more now the Denvali are here." Twenty thousand. Such a number was difficult to comprehend. He could imagine packed streets, packed taverns, and so little space to move around. But the city was large. Large enough to accommodate so many. He stayed on the deck, letting the sea wind brush over him as they made the approach to Zeltiva's port. Why couldn't he remember? The void still hurt him, and he was no closer to working out what had happened. They had been at sea for a fair amount of time, but even now he didn't know how he had ended up at sea. Even stranger, the looks people gave his hand, and the stone that sat there, seated in his flesh. In the end, he had stopped questioning the situation for fear of looking like a madman at risk of mutiny. The Web pained him too. He could not reach it. Any attempt left his head throbbing and dark clouds dancing in his vision. There was a block there. Or, he feared, he was disconnected completely. Suddenly, the wind felt frigid. Time had passed quickly in his reverie. They were making landfall, and deckhands and sailors rushed about the ship to make preparations for disembarking. Ronan shook himself out of thought, moving toward a group of sailors, hoping he could be of use.

[Ronan]

The streets were bustling. Market stalls lined the winding streets that came up from the docks. Fantastic foods sat upon coloured silks, the changing of money happening all around. And when he looked closer, he didn't even recognise some of the coins as Mizas. When he found a stall where a large framed male was chopping hair with a dagger, he paid up with a Silver Miza with trepidation, and took a seat. Soon enough, the dark curls lay on the ground, swept up by the wind, and he could run a hand through shorter, tidier hair. He bought a small bundle of grilled, salted fish too, handing over a Copper Miza. Biting into the flesh, the fish melted into his mouth, warm and satisfying. Now, to find a place to stay. He managed to stop someone in the street who pointed him towards an inn several streets away. He longed for some personal space. A room he could sit and gather his thoughts in away from the chaos of the city. So it was, after getting lost several times, that he found himself at the World's End Grotto - with a room, a key, a bed, and a chamber pot.