25th Spring, 515 AV - Priskil's Spire
She had been out in the balmy air, salty smell filling her nose as the winds carried the remnants of the sea's froth into the lungs of the people, and watching what was happening before her. Everyone was hurrying about here and there in Zeltiva it seemed, aristocrat and pauper alike as far as she could tell, always somewhere clearly important to be. She could understand it with the runners, missive carriers were paid for their fleetness, however for everyone else it seemed unnecessarily stressful. Then again, she was new to the city and this could merely have been a busy period. As far as she had rationalized out from her discussions with others the city had had very hard times in the recent past, it may have merely been the ebbing off before the great relax in city life. Her attention, however, was not so much on everyone as the select few who were entering and exiting the building nearby. Not to mention the creatures leaving it from its peaks.
Priskil's Spire! One elegant showing of what true craftsmen could do if given the time, inclination and resources. She was truly a beautiful creation, clearly it was a woman given its inherent grace and stature. She knew little of the deity aside from her gender, she was not entirely sure what she was the goddess of. Still, her building was providing her with a pretty insight into the Zeltivan machine of government. She had learnt the main avenues as best she could so far, still far from the universal knowledge she had of Sunberth but a decent step towards it, and she was cure that many of the runners were exiting from the governmental sector – as she liked to think of it. Yet, if her eye did not deceive her, many of the doves – they must have been doves – were flapping straight back in the same direction.
“So why send a missive at all? IS it secret? Safer? More removed? Or do they just like the idea of using them out of self-importance? Or all of the above? Or none?” she muttered to herself, watching another batch soar off and the runners exit the building for their rather too leisurely stroll back the way they had come for their profession.
She turned her gaze back to the middle distance, orb lazily caressing the white stones of the tower as her mind retreated inwards. She was tired, too damned tired by half. She had thought she had had it hard in Sunberth with her employments but Anelda certainly saw to it that she was worked as hard as possible to earn her keep. She liked the woman she had to admit, she was too much like Zandelia than she cared to admit and she was too much like Anelda with the same problem. Cold at times, aloof eve, yet she had a caring streak the width of the city and time enough for everyone that when they left they had nothing but decent things to say of her. There was much she could learn from Anelda, she was certain she had not seen the half of it. Which filled her with sadness, she was not entirely sure she was either worthy nor capable of learning half of it.
I took the job for the access it gave me, for the relaxing atmosphere and the ability to ease people, but why bother? It all comes down for naught in the end. I tried in Sunberth, honestly I did, yet there was nothing left by the end. No gods intervened, just men and weapons. No one cared, they just crushed she sighed as her thoughts turned darker, the black to the tower's white – it must have shown upon her face but she was not sure she cared enough to hide it anymore.
Zeltiva was a pretty place, but it was far from home. It unsettled her how different it was, though at the same time it sometimes filled her with such a buzzing of possibility and contentment that she felt a twinge of guilt that she was beginning to see Sunberth for what it was, for how S'Essy had told her it was. She paid no attention tot he crowds now, lost within the labyrinth of her own thoughts, her own regrets and wallowing in a sea of hopelessness that seemed to flood into her on a repetitive basis whatever she tried to do to forestall it. She huffed, her lips vibrating, and her chin was stuck upon the palm of her hand. The very picture of moody thought, and she disliked being moody.
It was too much like her youthful self, she should have changed for the better by now.
She had been out in the balmy air, salty smell filling her nose as the winds carried the remnants of the sea's froth into the lungs of the people, and watching what was happening before her. Everyone was hurrying about here and there in Zeltiva it seemed, aristocrat and pauper alike as far as she could tell, always somewhere clearly important to be. She could understand it with the runners, missive carriers were paid for their fleetness, however for everyone else it seemed unnecessarily stressful. Then again, she was new to the city and this could merely have been a busy period. As far as she had rationalized out from her discussions with others the city had had very hard times in the recent past, it may have merely been the ebbing off before the great relax in city life. Her attention, however, was not so much on everyone as the select few who were entering and exiting the building nearby. Not to mention the creatures leaving it from its peaks.
Priskil's Spire! One elegant showing of what true craftsmen could do if given the time, inclination and resources. She was truly a beautiful creation, clearly it was a woman given its inherent grace and stature. She knew little of the deity aside from her gender, she was not entirely sure what she was the goddess of. Still, her building was providing her with a pretty insight into the Zeltivan machine of government. She had learnt the main avenues as best she could so far, still far from the universal knowledge she had of Sunberth but a decent step towards it, and she was cure that many of the runners were exiting from the governmental sector – as she liked to think of it. Yet, if her eye did not deceive her, many of the doves – they must have been doves – were flapping straight back in the same direction.
“So why send a missive at all? IS it secret? Safer? More removed? Or do they just like the idea of using them out of self-importance? Or all of the above? Or none?” she muttered to herself, watching another batch soar off and the runners exit the building for their rather too leisurely stroll back the way they had come for their profession.
She turned her gaze back to the middle distance, orb lazily caressing the white stones of the tower as her mind retreated inwards. She was tired, too damned tired by half. She had thought she had had it hard in Sunberth with her employments but Anelda certainly saw to it that she was worked as hard as possible to earn her keep. She liked the woman she had to admit, she was too much like Zandelia than she cared to admit and she was too much like Anelda with the same problem. Cold at times, aloof eve, yet she had a caring streak the width of the city and time enough for everyone that when they left they had nothing but decent things to say of her. There was much she could learn from Anelda, she was certain she had not seen the half of it. Which filled her with sadness, she was not entirely sure she was either worthy nor capable of learning half of it.
I took the job for the access it gave me, for the relaxing atmosphere and the ability to ease people, but why bother? It all comes down for naught in the end. I tried in Sunberth, honestly I did, yet there was nothing left by the end. No gods intervened, just men and weapons. No one cared, they just crushed she sighed as her thoughts turned darker, the black to the tower's white – it must have shown upon her face but she was not sure she cared enough to hide it anymore.
Zeltiva was a pretty place, but it was far from home. It unsettled her how different it was, though at the same time it sometimes filled her with such a buzzing of possibility and contentment that she felt a twinge of guilt that she was beginning to see Sunberth for what it was, for how S'Essy had told her it was. She paid no attention tot he crowds now, lost within the labyrinth of her own thoughts, her own regrets and wallowing in a sea of hopelessness that seemed to flood into her on a repetitive basis whatever she tried to do to forestall it. She huffed, her lips vibrating, and her chin was stuck upon the palm of her hand. The very picture of moody thought, and she disliked being moody.
It was too much like her youthful self, she should have changed for the better by now.