3rd of Ash, 121 AS
The air smelled of burnt paper and bread, the wind carrying with it the scents of thousands of bodies that milled about Willowby Street like schools of fish. Each clump of people seemed to be intent on a certain destination. Some marched a steady pace toward what was called the Grundgeworks, still, others headed toward the mines, and by far the greater number were those in pressed uniforms that headed toward the administrative district. The streets were cobbled and clean, but every step felt precarious somehow like the entirety of the road was coated in a fine layer of oil that shown in the mid-morning light. Perhaps it was due to rain earlier in the day, but when Lyra looked to the edges of the street where the shops stood in orderly rows she could see small pools of water sitting stagnant and cloudy. From time to time she thought she saw a body move down one long alleyway, but whenever she focused Lyra could never see what it was that flickered at the edge of her vision.
It's like walking in an anthill. Naila observed as they moved down the crowded street. Lyra controlled their body, but Naila was always at the edge of snatching control away should the need arise. Already the mercenary's instincts were ringing, past experience telling her that there was much more happening than what could be seen on the surface. When another body flickered past them Naila turned their head in the direction, but again there was nothing there.
Could it be that you are paranoid? Lyra asked with amusement. Ever since they had arrived Naila had seemed... on edge.
Paranoid keeps you alive. the other woman said, taking no notice of the sarcasm in Lyra's tone, It feels like bugs are crawling over my skin.
As they walked Lyra sampled the symphonies of those around them. There was a mixture of depression, blank acceptance, and a few among the crowd were so devoutly loyal that she had to turn her attention away lest their melodies drown out the rest. It was an odd city, with curious tensions in places Lyra had not expected. Down an alleyway near the Grundgeworks there was happiness that spilled from the cracks of dirty walls, and in some of the taller buildings rang anger, indignation, while just below them there were melodies of melancholy. The city seemed uncertain of what it should be, or perhaps it was in the midst of a transition.
Lyra paused to look into the window of a clothing store she had passed several times now. One hand loosely gripped her satchel, inside Artur slumbered though Lyra kept a piece of her essence inside him at all times. It had not been her purpose, but perhaps Lyra could splurge and sample some of the fashion of the city. It never hurt to have clothing for all occasions, and all locations as well.
The air smelled of burnt paper and bread, the wind carrying with it the scents of thousands of bodies that milled about Willowby Street like schools of fish. Each clump of people seemed to be intent on a certain destination. Some marched a steady pace toward what was called the Grundgeworks, still, others headed toward the mines, and by far the greater number were those in pressed uniforms that headed toward the administrative district. The streets were cobbled and clean, but every step felt precarious somehow like the entirety of the road was coated in a fine layer of oil that shown in the mid-morning light. Perhaps it was due to rain earlier in the day, but when Lyra looked to the edges of the street where the shops stood in orderly rows she could see small pools of water sitting stagnant and cloudy. From time to time she thought she saw a body move down one long alleyway, but whenever she focused Lyra could never see what it was that flickered at the edge of her vision.
It's like walking in an anthill. Naila observed as they moved down the crowded street. Lyra controlled their body, but Naila was always at the edge of snatching control away should the need arise. Already the mercenary's instincts were ringing, past experience telling her that there was much more happening than what could be seen on the surface. When another body flickered past them Naila turned their head in the direction, but again there was nothing there.
Could it be that you are paranoid? Lyra asked with amusement. Ever since they had arrived Naila had seemed... on edge.
Paranoid keeps you alive. the other woman said, taking no notice of the sarcasm in Lyra's tone, It feels like bugs are crawling over my skin.
As they walked Lyra sampled the symphonies of those around them. There was a mixture of depression, blank acceptance, and a few among the crowd were so devoutly loyal that she had to turn her attention away lest their melodies drown out the rest. It was an odd city, with curious tensions in places Lyra had not expected. Down an alleyway near the Grundgeworks there was happiness that spilled from the cracks of dirty walls, and in some of the taller buildings rang anger, indignation, while just below them there were melodies of melancholy. The city seemed uncertain of what it should be, or perhaps it was in the midst of a transition.
Lyra paused to look into the window of a clothing store she had passed several times now. One hand loosely gripped her satchel, inside Artur slumbered though Lyra kept a piece of her essence inside him at all times. It had not been her purpose, but perhaps Lyra could splurge and sample some of the fashion of the city. It never hurt to have clothing for all occasions, and all locations as well.
