Ash 1, 122 Age of Steel
When the day finally came, Avamande did not flinch from their decision. They had packed their effects the night before, a truly immense number of books and scrivening equipment that had been fit into a number of chests and trunks. Belatedly, they had also thought to include some clothing, cursing themselves for having not gone to Charlie for apparel that would have fit a seaborne climate.
Then again, if they had, he would have almost certainly attempted to tag along and then that would lead to who knows how much trouble. Besides, time away from the Mesmer might prove good for their psyche, even if they had become comrades in arms in the past season. They had prepared for everything that they thought they would need, ultimately coming to everything that they would probably need after remembering their own physical needs, but now that the time had come the mage ran into a very frustrating problem.
No matter where they looked, the door would not appear.
Avamande scoured every inch of their apartment complex, their luggage floating behind them, to no avail. They expanded their senses through Slipspace, flitting between areas of the city, and even the clearing outside of Kalzasi where they had ran into the first door, finding nothing untoward. In exasperation, they threw themselves upon their bed, staring directly at the door in their ceiling.
In... their... ceiling.
Sighing, the mage slowly levitates up, opening the way into the Duck beyond, gravity changing its orientation as they step through. Their luggage continues after them faithfully, the Hytori feeling the slipspace around them to get used to the vessel. A familiar tugging sensation pulls at them, and they turn their head to begin the trek down a particular corridor. It felt... like home, which was ridiculous, their prior visit aboard the vessel having been incredibly brief, and yet...