in the hall of the steward

in which aoren, valaera and hilana meet the steward of the godspire

Filled with people both proud and poor, the Imperium is a land of ambition, glory and a belief in the power of the mortal spirit.

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Pharaoh
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Though her eyes were lost to her, Valæra's Sembling senses took note of the Draconic glyphs. The tongue was still spoken by her Zalkyrian liege lords and, though she never dared sully that sacred language with her unworthy tongue, she did understand spoken and written Draconic and took note of the intent behind the symbols represented there as they moved under the ministrations of the Steward.

Though her Kinetics were no match for her Semblance, being more her brother Phocion's speciality than her own, the Craft was perfectly sufficient to accept the proffered glyph as it was offered. She listened impassively as the preliminary terms were laid out, arching a brow at the most pendulous caveat presented. It would pose a risk, but it also presented an opportunity... perhaps it could even be woven into plans that were already in the offing. It would certainly be something that warranted the attention of her mother, the Vigilia Magna.

"Acknowledged." She replied with a simple nod as she regarded the glyph levitating before her. Valæra rose, and stepped away from the Steward, pivoting toward where the portal that delivered them to this place returned presumably at their prompting. She stepped forth with a glance toward Aoren to gauge whether he planned to leave with them or remain to deal in further matters with the Steward. Valæra's steps halted as she sensed Hilana's hesitation but, she marked that without remarking upon it, and continued her gait toward the portal to be transported back to the chamber they had lost much to reach in the midst of the wastes and the temporal storms that afflicted their trek.


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Hilana Chenzira
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Location: Solunarium
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Her head tilted slightly as she watched, and she blinked with interest at seeing the draconic rune. She didn't recognize it, and if it hadn't been for what the Steward had said, she'd have had not a single inkling as to what it was. Some very advanced Scrivening would have been her guess. But such as it was, the Vastiana would remain quiet. Such things were far above her head. For now, at least, and likely in the future - though the Scrivening here was a masterclass all of its own, all of it - the walls, the halls, and now this. If anything, it was encouragement to keep learning. To keep practicing. That was the only way for her to improve. A genius Hilana was not, but she could knuckle down and work at it.

And some part of her wouldn't mind a way to come back here to explore - to sit and study the Scrivening properly, to investigate the "room" that had been prepared for the Solunarian delegation... but needs must.

She hadn't expected his comment about her capacity for conversation: he wasn't wrong, though, Hilana was often a chatterbox through and through, but she had learned the hard way that it was better to be quiet. She had very little of value to add here; Valaera and Aoren were wise well beyond her years, and this was a high-stakes situation that involved the very fate of the world. Diplomacy and rhetoric were her strong points. Understanding that there was likely things she was missing, no matter how much she sought to listen and discern from tone and gesture and tells and quirks... she could wait to see if Valaera would tell her other things that she was missing later. If she had the opportunity to discuss it. She knew she would certainly face a debriefing when she returned home with her, and what Hilana heard and experienced would be duly combined with those of the others to try to give the Powers That Be the clearest possible picture.

All the same, she inclined her head respectfully. "If an accord is made... perhaps there will be an opportunity later, Steward," she offered. When Valaera rose from the table, Hilana followed. When she heard those thoughts in the Steward's voice, she did pause and look back at him, her head tilting again before she nodded politely in acknowledgement, and hurried after the Sentinel through the portal.

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Aegis
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A single thought was granted Hilana as she departed.

"Should you wish to slip your leash and seize your own opportunity, say the name 'Rory' into the shadows."

With that he looked over at Aoren, bored. "You may go now."

And Aoren followed after Hilana, quiet, closed off, shoulders sunken and spirit withdrawn. He would not speak again for the remainder of this journey.
word count: 64
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