90th of Winter, 513.
Just another one of those days - but it was another day, not to be wasted or forgotten. Or rather, had been. He'd been out sampling the city for most of the day, delivering a few packages as per the usual, exploring the outlands and the beyond. Every day was important in the squirrels eyes. And yet again, he now stood in the afternoon rays of Syna, wondering what he could possibly do now. Perhaps a visit back to the Sharp Tongue Pub, and make a few more quips at the monks that gathered there. Or a turn for the baths to relax a little with that Eypharian that had been so kind before?
As soon as he slipped out of the Hostel - after all, he needed to make sure that all of his valuables were still safe and well - he climbed up the nearest wall with his claws scraping against the heavy red stone that seemed so abundant around the Nykan cityscape. It was always beautiful, although not as wonderful as Syliras by any stretch of the imagination. The place may have been some time ago, in quite a long distance away, but he could still remember it like he'd only just left it yesterday.. it was the place that he always wished to return to. Home, in every sense, even when such foreign lands surrounded him with their beauty. Monks calmly went about their last business, closing down the stores and packing away their goods. All was peaceful, quiet, in the passing days, and the squirrel watched it all with his paws folded behind his head as some kind of makeshift pillow. But somewhere below, he could hear some laughter that broke the early evening silence. A group of monks - not exactly old ones either, all gathered around a little object, poking and touching it with eager laughs and smiles between themselves.
Some of the other monks passed by with shakes of their heads - others laughed as well, as if there was some shared joke between all of Nyka that knew of such a thing. Whatever it was.. it was certainly enough to pique his attention.
