16th of Winter, 518 AV
"Thirty, do I hear forty? Forty! Forty-five! Going once..."
The quick chatter of an auctioneer was the first thing that penetrated the veil that Savis Maren imposed about herself. The Nuit, a dark creature by the very nature of her existence preferred to remain away from the discourse of mortals. A tragedy, for within her heart of darkness existed a bright soul that very few might ever see. The Nuit dressed in her black silks, her long silk dress draped at the end over the floor. Her shoulders might've been bare were it not for the short cape she wore, which pulled up into a hood that she wore over her head. To passerby, she'd be so very close to a silhouette in the black of night, with silver eyes just visible beneath that dark hood, eyes which cast the intensity of a century's existence over the Basilika. The Nuit passed this place by in the Autumn, on her way to the Dawn Tower to handle a bit of business with the family there. The memory she held in this place, marred by rudeness, only served to further cement her lacking desire to conversate with the rabble that dwelled within. The auctioneer she heard earlier yelled out, "Sold!", in unison with another. It seemed that the arts occupied the space that philosophy and debate occupied in the day.
Savis Maren kept the silence about her, and instead allowed the anonymity that her hood brought with her to carry her throughout. The Nuit allowed her eyes to peer at one of the sold pieces, a landscape painting depicting what Savis could only imagine was the unity of the three peaks of Lhavit. The skyglass city itself was omitted from the scenery, with the entirety of emphasis placed on the aesthetic of the peaks. White paint swirled as fog, lowering into the trees that carried along the breadth of the mountain tops. Notably, there was no snow anywhere to be found, a faithful adaption as can be without the skyglass city interfering with the beauty of nature. The Nuit looked closer, eyeing the differences in tone and colors and curious to find their combination flawlessly wrought. It was spectacular, and Savis couldn't help but draw closer.
But, it wasn't meant to be. The painting was stripped off the easel and replaced with another, and the Nuit frowned beneath her hood as she listened to the auctioneer start anew. Offense threw itself throughout the thoughts of the undead, who hadn't quite finished her gawking and was sorely disappointed with the next piece that came into view. A portrait and a poor one at that. Savis Maren scoffed, distancing herself from the auction podium. A lovely stone sculpture was the next piece to catch her eye, for when she turned away she found herself within just a few feet of it. A fearsome steed carried an Eypharian, four arms all holding some sort of weapon in them. The Nuit didn't identify what they were, with spiked balls and jagged edges all around, but she did notice the worn edges on the stone and it led the undead to wonder just how old the piece was. Sturdy and beautifully rendered, the piece was accompanied by many others, with the end of a row of sculptures headed with a working sculptor buffing out the edges of a recent piece. The Basilika, though painted with the darkness of night, was alive with activity.
Everywhere in Lhavit is like that. The Basilika shouldn't be any different, she mused as she continued to watch the sculptor. The young woman was hard at work, with eyes only for the art she was making, but Savis wouldn't have it any other way. Certainly, she admired the craftsmanship, and moreover dedication to craft, and she didn't bother the sculptor as they continued on their piece. Curiously, she watched, making her way to an empty stool as she withdrew her notebook from the shifting automaton, Wheels that accompanied her. Savis caught eyes for the automaton, but since it didn't disturb anyone, and her piercing visage wasn't presented for all to see, she kept a relatively low profile. For the moment, at least. Savis Maren wasn't entirely sure what she meant to write, but she kept her mind active, tracing shapes into the parchment as she allowed her silver eyes to wander, one final time.
The quick chatter of an auctioneer was the first thing that penetrated the veil that Savis Maren imposed about herself. The Nuit, a dark creature by the very nature of her existence preferred to remain away from the discourse of mortals. A tragedy, for within her heart of darkness existed a bright soul that very few might ever see. The Nuit dressed in her black silks, her long silk dress draped at the end over the floor. Her shoulders might've been bare were it not for the short cape she wore, which pulled up into a hood that she wore over her head. To passerby, she'd be so very close to a silhouette in the black of night, with silver eyes just visible beneath that dark hood, eyes which cast the intensity of a century's existence over the Basilika. The Nuit passed this place by in the Autumn, on her way to the Dawn Tower to handle a bit of business with the family there. The memory she held in this place, marred by rudeness, only served to further cement her lacking desire to conversate with the rabble that dwelled within. The auctioneer she heard earlier yelled out, "Sold!", in unison with another. It seemed that the arts occupied the space that philosophy and debate occupied in the day.
Savis Maren kept the silence about her, and instead allowed the anonymity that her hood brought with her to carry her throughout. The Nuit allowed her eyes to peer at one of the sold pieces, a landscape painting depicting what Savis could only imagine was the unity of the three peaks of Lhavit. The skyglass city itself was omitted from the scenery, with the entirety of emphasis placed on the aesthetic of the peaks. White paint swirled as fog, lowering into the trees that carried along the breadth of the mountain tops. Notably, there was no snow anywhere to be found, a faithful adaption as can be without the skyglass city interfering with the beauty of nature. The Nuit looked closer, eyeing the differences in tone and colors and curious to find their combination flawlessly wrought. It was spectacular, and Savis couldn't help but draw closer.
But, it wasn't meant to be. The painting was stripped off the easel and replaced with another, and the Nuit frowned beneath her hood as she listened to the auctioneer start anew. Offense threw itself throughout the thoughts of the undead, who hadn't quite finished her gawking and was sorely disappointed with the next piece that came into view. A portrait and a poor one at that. Savis Maren scoffed, distancing herself from the auction podium. A lovely stone sculpture was the next piece to catch her eye, for when she turned away she found herself within just a few feet of it. A fearsome steed carried an Eypharian, four arms all holding some sort of weapon in them. The Nuit didn't identify what they were, with spiked balls and jagged edges all around, but she did notice the worn edges on the stone and it led the undead to wonder just how old the piece was. Sturdy and beautifully rendered, the piece was accompanied by many others, with the end of a row of sculptures headed with a working sculptor buffing out the edges of a recent piece. The Basilika, though painted with the darkness of night, was alive with activity.
Everywhere in Lhavit is like that. The Basilika shouldn't be any different, she mused as she continued to watch the sculptor. The young woman was hard at work, with eyes only for the art she was making, but Savis wouldn't have it any other way. Certainly, she admired the craftsmanship, and moreover dedication to craft, and she didn't bother the sculptor as they continued on their piece. Curiously, she watched, making her way to an empty stool as she withdrew her notebook from the shifting automaton, Wheels that accompanied her. Savis caught eyes for the automaton, but since it didn't disturb anyone, and her piercing visage wasn't presented for all to see, she kept a relatively low profile. For the moment, at least. Savis Maren wasn't entirely sure what she meant to write, but she kept her mind active, tracing shapes into the parchment as she allowed her silver eyes to wander, one final time.