Date TBD (18 - 21)
Kalinor was unlike anything he had thought it might be, even more so than Alvadas or the even more mundane Syliras before it. The city rose upwards, like a cascading waterfall of silks and gems, glimmering in the twilight of the massive cavern's upper reaches. Brides, strong and elegant, ran through the murky darkness like veins, carrying upon them the blood of the city's people, delicate men and women who moved with a grace and poise that was as inhuman was it was beautiful. That beauty, however, was lost on the young man who carefully stepped off of the strange contraption that had brought him to the paths edge. He wasn't quite as uncertain of step as he thought he might have been, finding the silken ground beneath him more sturdy than it appeared. Still, it was a strange sensation, one that seemed to insist he keep his arms out to his sides to balance himself, even if there was no immediate danger of falling. The guard who had pulled him up gave him a polite nod, eyes revealing little in the half-dark of the city's misty shadows. "Follow the red path, Krova. It will take you to the Meadow."
The manner in which the spider-folk spoke was reminiscent of a fall breeze rattling through the last leaves of spring, and it was, in its own way, a soothing sort of sound, though Keene only noticed its similarities to the chilly sighs of the colder seasons, the comfort of it lying just under his perceptions. With a nod and a shallow bow in return to the pale man's, Keene squinted through the shadows, a thin ribbon of crimson running under his feet and out into the hazy murk of the cavern. Below, though he was far under the earth and Zulrav's winds, there was the soft stirring of air, whispers of distances far greater than the darkness concealed creeping their way up his spine. Re-shouldering his pack, Keene forced his thumbs under the straps to keep his hands from flailing out to either side of him as he took first one tentative step then another until he was moving a slow but steady pace beside the ribbon's guidance.
Over the lengthy course of his journey from the lift, it quickly became clear that the suspended road led towards the greatest source of light. It was like a beacon, beckoning him like a moth to flame, a singular creature alone in an empty city. Though he could hear the whispered susurrus of people above him, he walked his path alone, the few instances during which his footing felt uncertain, he wobbled in the shadows of his own making, eyes kept focused on his destination to keep his balance centered and directed towards his goal. When he finally reached what the guard had referred to as the Meadow, Keene found that it was far more familiar than the strange structure seemed to suggest from the outside.
Nearly as empty as the street he had passed over to reach the elegant tavern that stretched out before him in a surprisingly spacious interior complete with lush, verdant tapestries and a muted, calming deep ocher that glowed with a natural, earthy air upon the walls. As he passed through the silken door, he was greeted with the pale smile of woman clad in a simple but refined gown of velveteen emerald, its hem just shy of the sturdy ground over which she passed, little bells that hung from a sash of a rich, chocolate brown tinkling with each delicate step she took, stopping a comfortable distance from the newcomer and offering him and deep, welcoming bow. "Welcome, Krova! I am Sonara Acnoite, and it is my pleasure to welcome you to The Meadows."
The greeting was returned with a nod of an impassive head, though Keene offered his name to complete the exchange. "Thank you. I am Keene Ward, and I am looking for a place to sleep." Though his own voice held a similar softness to it, it lacked the airy, near whimsy of the Symenos accent, and there was a fair amount of weariness to it, one that Keene was only able to control so much.
"Of course, Korvard." She bowed once more, bells singing a gentle song in muted whispers as she moved with the gossamer step of a dancer, returning with a pale flower that she offered to him with a soft smile that didn't quite reach her pale, amethyst eyes. "The White Crocus waits for you, just beyond the stairs there, Krovard." Her long, fragile fingers rose and fell in an artistic gesture towards the back of the main room where shadows flickered in the light of the crackling fire's glow. "If there is anything else you need at all, you have only to ask myself or any of the staff here." As Keene took the flower with a careful hand, brow knitting slightly as he examined the gentle curve of the off-white bloom, Sonara's voice slipped from her lips once more, almost a whisper and one he would not have noticed had she not directed it at him. "Are you..." As his pale grey-green eyes rose from the orchid that was pressed in a tender grip between his thumb and forefinger, she shook her head, smile returning even if it curved just shy of the deep, curious eyes that met his. "No, it is no matter of mine. May you enjoy your time here in the city of Kalinor, Krovard."
Questions stirred in the pit of his stomach, but his body pressed him onward after a mute nod in reply to woman's words. She watched him leave, brow rising only slightly as he struggled up the narrow steps, hands pressed against the plush walls in search of whatever minor support he could find. "Is he like the other, I wonder?" As he disappeared, however, so too did her curiosity. Those who came to Kalinor were never exactly as they seemed, and she had little doubt she would be seeing quite a bit of both men in the days to come.
The room above was far more sparse than below, and as Keene's eyes scanned the doors that wrapped around the room, it took him a few ticks to match the flower in his hand to the images that adorned the various portals. Making his way to what was the closest representation of the orchid that was still held with a careful grip, Keene pushed the door open to reveal yet more darkness and a thin - though sturdy - bridge that led to tear's drop of silk at its end. Light emanated from the woven walls, like the glow of a firefly, flickering only every now and then as he carefully picked his way across the bridge, keeping his eyes more on the path than the destination, as there was little to stop his descent should he lose himself to it. When he reached what seemed to be the final door, Keene pushed it open with a weary hand, his aching body suddenly desiring to remind him just how exhausted it was. Sliding the pack from his shoulders in the same movement he passed through the door, he set the bag beside what would have normally been the door's frame. His belt was off and shirt untucked with pants just about to follow before he realized that he wasn't alone.
The room itself was spacious, far too spacious for a single person, and there were two beds at either end of it, slightly off center of the other. Silken rugs of light cream and a more heady pearl adorned the ground, fluttering tapestries with orchids of varying sizes in a delicate, refined style hung from the ceiling, stirred by the soft breeze that had followed the young man in, carrying with it, no doubt, the scent of one who was well traveled. The beds, lavish heaps of silks and pillows, had desks beside them, upon which flowers that matched the room's name sat fresh and in glass vases filled to half with water. There was an elegant tub in the middle of the room, near the back, were silken curtains that were more for show than privacy hung on either side of it, shading it in a gentle veil.
All these things, however, went unnoticed by the pale surprise in Keene's eyes that flickered for a few ticks before he was able to speak, his mind finally catching up to the unexpected unfolding of events before him. "Thomas Cosa." His voice was almost golem-like in the way the name left his tongue, and his eyes, recovered from their initial glimmer of bewilderment, had settled back into their neutral light as they moved up and down the familiar yet unfamiliar figure before him. "What are you doing here?" With the beginnings of his investigation begun, Keene proceeded to continue undressing, eyes rising to meet Thomas' should he speak. First boots, then pants, then shirt, until he stood in nothing more than his small clothes. Keene had changed just as much as Thomas Cosa seemed to, but in a far different manner. His muscles had become more defined, skin still pale but darker on his shoulders and face where the sun had had its way with him. Thin scars lined his arms and Zulrav's mark sat comfortably between his shoulder blades, its pale blues and silvers shivering in the open air. Though he had not been anticipating a single reunion with any of the wizards from the island, Keene supposed, as Thomas spoke and he disrobed, that the animator was not the most undesirable of outcomes. After all, the man had allowed him access to several different schools of magics, even if it had not been expressly intended. He was, in essence, useful, and that, in and of itself, was reason enough to discover why exactly he was there in the first place.
Kalinor was unlike anything he had thought it might be, even more so than Alvadas or the even more mundane Syliras before it. The city rose upwards, like a cascading waterfall of silks and gems, glimmering in the twilight of the massive cavern's upper reaches. Brides, strong and elegant, ran through the murky darkness like veins, carrying upon them the blood of the city's people, delicate men and women who moved with a grace and poise that was as inhuman was it was beautiful. That beauty, however, was lost on the young man who carefully stepped off of the strange contraption that had brought him to the paths edge. He wasn't quite as uncertain of step as he thought he might have been, finding the silken ground beneath him more sturdy than it appeared. Still, it was a strange sensation, one that seemed to insist he keep his arms out to his sides to balance himself, even if there was no immediate danger of falling. The guard who had pulled him up gave him a polite nod, eyes revealing little in the half-dark of the city's misty shadows. "Follow the red path, Krova. It will take you to the Meadow."
The manner in which the spider-folk spoke was reminiscent of a fall breeze rattling through the last leaves of spring, and it was, in its own way, a soothing sort of sound, though Keene only noticed its similarities to the chilly sighs of the colder seasons, the comfort of it lying just under his perceptions. With a nod and a shallow bow in return to the pale man's, Keene squinted through the shadows, a thin ribbon of crimson running under his feet and out into the hazy murk of the cavern. Below, though he was far under the earth and Zulrav's winds, there was the soft stirring of air, whispers of distances far greater than the darkness concealed creeping their way up his spine. Re-shouldering his pack, Keene forced his thumbs under the straps to keep his hands from flailing out to either side of him as he took first one tentative step then another until he was moving a slow but steady pace beside the ribbon's guidance.
Over the lengthy course of his journey from the lift, it quickly became clear that the suspended road led towards the greatest source of light. It was like a beacon, beckoning him like a moth to flame, a singular creature alone in an empty city. Though he could hear the whispered susurrus of people above him, he walked his path alone, the few instances during which his footing felt uncertain, he wobbled in the shadows of his own making, eyes kept focused on his destination to keep his balance centered and directed towards his goal. When he finally reached what the guard had referred to as the Meadow, Keene found that it was far more familiar than the strange structure seemed to suggest from the outside.
Nearly as empty as the street he had passed over to reach the elegant tavern that stretched out before him in a surprisingly spacious interior complete with lush, verdant tapestries and a muted, calming deep ocher that glowed with a natural, earthy air upon the walls. As he passed through the silken door, he was greeted with the pale smile of woman clad in a simple but refined gown of velveteen emerald, its hem just shy of the sturdy ground over which she passed, little bells that hung from a sash of a rich, chocolate brown tinkling with each delicate step she took, stopping a comfortable distance from the newcomer and offering him and deep, welcoming bow. "Welcome, Krova! I am Sonara Acnoite, and it is my pleasure to welcome you to The Meadows."
The greeting was returned with a nod of an impassive head, though Keene offered his name to complete the exchange. "Thank you. I am Keene Ward, and I am looking for a place to sleep." Though his own voice held a similar softness to it, it lacked the airy, near whimsy of the Symenos accent, and there was a fair amount of weariness to it, one that Keene was only able to control so much.
"Of course, Korvard." She bowed once more, bells singing a gentle song in muted whispers as she moved with the gossamer step of a dancer, returning with a pale flower that she offered to him with a soft smile that didn't quite reach her pale, amethyst eyes. "The White Crocus waits for you, just beyond the stairs there, Krovard." Her long, fragile fingers rose and fell in an artistic gesture towards the back of the main room where shadows flickered in the light of the crackling fire's glow. "If there is anything else you need at all, you have only to ask myself or any of the staff here." As Keene took the flower with a careful hand, brow knitting slightly as he examined the gentle curve of the off-white bloom, Sonara's voice slipped from her lips once more, almost a whisper and one he would not have noticed had she not directed it at him. "Are you..." As his pale grey-green eyes rose from the orchid that was pressed in a tender grip between his thumb and forefinger, she shook her head, smile returning even if it curved just shy of the deep, curious eyes that met his. "No, it is no matter of mine. May you enjoy your time here in the city of Kalinor, Krovard."
Questions stirred in the pit of his stomach, but his body pressed him onward after a mute nod in reply to woman's words. She watched him leave, brow rising only slightly as he struggled up the narrow steps, hands pressed against the plush walls in search of whatever minor support he could find. "Is he like the other, I wonder?" As he disappeared, however, so too did her curiosity. Those who came to Kalinor were never exactly as they seemed, and she had little doubt she would be seeing quite a bit of both men in the days to come.
The room above was far more sparse than below, and as Keene's eyes scanned the doors that wrapped around the room, it took him a few ticks to match the flower in his hand to the images that adorned the various portals. Making his way to what was the closest representation of the orchid that was still held with a careful grip, Keene pushed the door open to reveal yet more darkness and a thin - though sturdy - bridge that led to tear's drop of silk at its end. Light emanated from the woven walls, like the glow of a firefly, flickering only every now and then as he carefully picked his way across the bridge, keeping his eyes more on the path than the destination, as there was little to stop his descent should he lose himself to it. When he reached what seemed to be the final door, Keene pushed it open with a weary hand, his aching body suddenly desiring to remind him just how exhausted it was. Sliding the pack from his shoulders in the same movement he passed through the door, he set the bag beside what would have normally been the door's frame. His belt was off and shirt untucked with pants just about to follow before he realized that he wasn't alone.
The room itself was spacious, far too spacious for a single person, and there were two beds at either end of it, slightly off center of the other. Silken rugs of light cream and a more heady pearl adorned the ground, fluttering tapestries with orchids of varying sizes in a delicate, refined style hung from the ceiling, stirred by the soft breeze that had followed the young man in, carrying with it, no doubt, the scent of one who was well traveled. The beds, lavish heaps of silks and pillows, had desks beside them, upon which flowers that matched the room's name sat fresh and in glass vases filled to half with water. There was an elegant tub in the middle of the room, near the back, were silken curtains that were more for show than privacy hung on either side of it, shading it in a gentle veil.
All these things, however, went unnoticed by the pale surprise in Keene's eyes that flickered for a few ticks before he was able to speak, his mind finally catching up to the unexpected unfolding of events before him. "Thomas Cosa." His voice was almost golem-like in the way the name left his tongue, and his eyes, recovered from their initial glimmer of bewilderment, had settled back into their neutral light as they moved up and down the familiar yet unfamiliar figure before him. "What are you doing here?" With the beginnings of his investigation begun, Keene proceeded to continue undressing, eyes rising to meet Thomas' should he speak. First boots, then pants, then shirt, until he stood in nothing more than his small clothes. Keene had changed just as much as Thomas Cosa seemed to, but in a far different manner. His muscles had become more defined, skin still pale but darker on his shoulders and face where the sun had had its way with him. Thin scars lined his arms and Zulrav's mark sat comfortably between his shoulder blades, its pale blues and silvers shivering in the open air. Though he had not been anticipating a single reunion with any of the wizards from the island, Keene supposed, as Thomas spoke and he disrobed, that the animator was not the most undesirable of outcomes. After all, the man had allowed him access to several different schools of magics, even if it had not been expressly intended. He was, in essence, useful, and that, in and of itself, was reason enough to discover why exactly he was there in the first place.