Solo Cold Clarity, part 2

[Ennisa]

52nd Winter 519
late-afternoon
"speech"
"others"

A dove fluttered past Ennisa's shoulder as she stepped into this new Dove's Tower she found herself within. It flew up, up into the lofty heights, and it settled into place beside its brethren. It coo'ed contentedly. Perhaps it was telling the Outpost's doves of the snow in Lhavit, or about the luminescent child huddled within the woman's cloak. Perhaps it said nothing at all. Ennisa didn't know, or indeed care, what the conversations of the doves might be. She was more focussed on adjusting to the entirely new world she found herself within.

One might think that a woman from Lhavit would be accustomed to new worlds, magic, and the mystery those things entailed, but it was not so for Ennisa. She stared, gob-smacked and wide-eyed at the tower, with its fluttering of doves, its stunning stonework, and then at the sole occupant who was walking forwards to her with a welcoming look about him. Obviously, he could sense a newcomer's distress.

"Hello, welcome. Where have you come from?" The man spoke with an upbeat manner. She somehow sensed he was feeling... content. The feeling dawned slowly into existence. It was a detached kind of sensation, as if seeing a hidden part of the stranger's external appearance on a plane that none of them could see, not physically anyway. It was an intensely strange, out-of-body experience, but Ennisa responded by answering his question in a dazed sort of way. "Lhavit." As she responded, another flicker of this strange sense overcame her, but she struggled to recognise the feeling. The man's eyes twinkled. "A lovely city."

"Is this your first time to the Outpost?"

Ennisa nodded and tried to centre herself somewhat. She ignored the prickling of these strange feelings dancing at the edge of her conscious, and dragged a smile onto her face. "It is. Altaira, from the tower in Lhavit, said this is Xyna's world?" Paul smiled slightly. "Yes! The goddess of trade, money, commerce. All of these things fall under her umbrella. This is a paradise for trade. I would encourage you, and anyone you know, to bring your wares and services here. This is the world's market."

It was clear the man was proud of the Outpost. Ennisa watched him as he spoke, the way he gestured with his hands as he handed her a small, roughly drawn map of the Outpost and some of its key places. She let the information wash over her, smiled politely, and gently unwrapped the front of her cloak to let the baby get a bit of air. He was asleep again, but this time Ennisa's worries faded. His cheeks were rosy with warmth, and there was not a hint of the ethereal glow about him.

"... So please, visit the Bazaar. When or if you wish to return to Lhavit, come here and you will be returned. If you have any questions, there are various people throughout the Outpost who would be happy to help you. I am Paul, if you would like to ask me anything." She shook her head. "No. Thank you for this." She waved the map. Paul inclined his head, and withdrew a small piece of bread from his pocket to feed to a dove, which had landed on his shoulder. "Enjoy. I'm sure you will."

Ennisa, who was feeling both perturbed and calm at the same time, walked up to the door and opened it. As soon as she stepped outside into the mild climate and vibrant, bustling street, a colossal tidal wave of feelings engulfed her. The nape of her neck prickled, her skin goose-pimpled, and she shuddered as she tried to register and understand each emotion that swarmed around her like angry bees. It was impossible. Yet, though she should have been overwhelmed, a solid sense of calm cocooned her. It was this, and this only, that stopped her from screaming. Even so, the maddening sensation of being emotionally attacked and soothed at the same time left her standing, dazed and slack-jawed, in the street. She seemed gripped by some unseen force, and didn't move, even as people were forced to awkwardly navigate around her solitary form. Strapped to her chest, the baby began to wake with a sniffle and a cry, and he began to glow softly in the late afternoon sun.

WC: 720

[Ennisa]

"speech"
"others"

A tall woman with a harsh tattoo across her cheeks brushed past her with a frown. Distaste. A man, with a bald head and long robes, looked sideways at her as she stood stationary. Amusement. A child, with his hands in his pockets, picked his nose as he sat and stroked a stray cat. Bored. Ennisa blinked and cleared her throat, then stepped to one side. The feelings of the crowd swam over her. Every so often she was able to pick out a particularly strong emotion, but most of the time the feelings were like waves lapping at her solitary form. Yet after a time, she found that she was enjoying the sensations. It was amazing to be able to feel what others were feeling, even if she was just getting snapshots.

The baby strapped to her front began to whimper a little louder, so Ennisa reluctantly dragged her attention from the crowd down to softly cuddle the boy. Her heart wasn't in it, and she found it hard to concentrate. He was glowing a little brighter, upset in the heat, but she stared and stared at the crowd as she let the feelings crowd her out. She was content and peaceful as she became accustomed to the sensation. A little too content.

Ennisa approached an old woman who was walking past, and extended her hand to grab the older woman's arm. "Hey, lady." A burst of confusion hit, which morphed into annoyance. "What is it?" Her voice was mangled in a heavily accented version of common. Ennisa didn't care. She grinned with delight at the sharpening of annoyance she felt as ripples in her mind. "Haa-ave a great day!" She beamed. Confusion, thicker this time. The old woman gave her a stare and walked away quickly, brushing her shoulder as if to rid herself of Ennisa's touch.

She walked on slowly through the crowds. Such was her fascination with the people and their feelings that she hardly looked at the world she was in. The baby quietened from his grizzling and looked out from his perch at the world as it passed by. Ennisa stumbled slowly through the Outpost, her mind distracted and her own brain slow and artificially content. The cloak, which was far too warm in this oasis in the desert, continued to show Ennisa the emotions of strangers. She continued to be clueless as to how and why this was happening to her, and she continued to wear the shimmering cloak as she wandered aimlessly.

It wouldn't be so far-fetched to say that she was high. She looked it, too. Ennisa was far removed from her usual veneer of watchful sarcasm. She looked... genuine. Astounded. Mildly vacant. It was not a good look. Deep down, she knew something wasn't quite right, but it was hard to place a finger on what that actually was when she felt so right. It was only when the boy started crying in earnest that she was finally dragged from the waking stupor brought on by the cloak, and she scurried to find the nearest alleyway to attend to her child, lest his unearthly glowing attracted too much attention.

[Ennisa]

"speech"
"others"

The alleyway she found wasn't exactly quiet, as such. A pair of lanky, tan young women tittered amongst themselves over some inane joke they shared. Ennisa didn't pay them much heed. A sleek grey cat wended its way past Ennisa's legs as she found a small alcove and reluctantly removed the cloak so that she could attend to the baby properly. As soon as she did so, the odd feeling that had been enveloping her was removed, and suddenly she felt a lot more like herself. The child at her chest had been developing an attention-seeking whine whilst she had been wandering, a sound that she'd not registered. Now, she was alarmed to discover he had soiled his cloth... and was he hungry?

What a petching idiot I am. Ennisa screwed her eyes shut and tried to block out the world and the impending headache. The little boy, who still didn't have a proper name, continued crying in an impressively drawn-out warble. The gangly teenagers cast annoyed glares in her and the baby's direction and walked away, leaving her alone with the little grey cat that was staring balefully from its perch on a windowsill.

"C'mon baby, stop it," she murmured. It was no use. She'd come out unprepared, and now she had no spare cloth, and nothing to feed him with. His pale skin would continue to glow until he was happy. That was often more difficult to achieve than it looked. She was fast learning that motherhood was nothing to sniff at. She had come to the Outpost, lured by the mystery and the tantalising coincidences that had been plaguing her life recently. Now that she was here, she was overwhelmed by it all. The headache grew stronger, and the little boy continued his crying, his little face screwed into an ugly, contorted expression, his little fists curled tight and his shoulders scrunched up with displeasure.

Ennisa drew a sudden, deep breath and sighed in a swift exhale. There was no use moping. She had made a temporary fool of herself, but she knew no-one here, and this was the world's market, so she'd heard. She had coin; she could spend that coin on spare clothes for the baby, and something to feed him with. She would need to change and wash him somewhere; this could be tackled once she had the items she needed. But it needed to be done soon, so that she could settle him and begin to find some answers.

There was something clarifying about creating a plan. Ennisa smiled at the grey cat, and bunched the cloak under her arm. She didn't need or indeed want to put it on. There was something vaguely sinister about the loose drapes of the material. Besides, it was clement, and she was comfortable as she was.

She stood and adjusted the little boy, so that he was more comfortable, whilst stroking his head to try to quieten him a little. "Shh, shush." She knew it wouldn't do much good, but it just might help a little. He was glowing still, but there was a lot of strangeness in the world all of a sudden, and perhaps glowing skin wasn't quite as odd as she'd originally thought.

It was time to find the market.

WC: 547