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Faceless

Posted: Sun May 17, 2020 4:26 pm
by Mathis
Image

51st of Glade, Year 120

It felt nice. It had gotten warmer.

And most importantly, he was unknown to the people here. Whether the winds had blown cold or not, that would have been enough.

Aréas wasn't wearing nearly so much as he often had to in public spaces. In Railón, the Entente followed different standards than here. Raillén culture in general was... distinctively liberated, removed from the Gentevarese pretenses of class and taste. Their worship of Ulen was still strong -- perhaps even stronger -- but it was different. Here, even though all around the city was Raillén lands, the Entente still roamed the streets with three layers of jackets and thickly padded shoulders, wearing a beret at the least. At the most, masques adorned with ridiculous pointed hats, embroidered with silver lines. They looked far from the humans they were. But he supposed that that was what they wanted to be.

Réas wore a simple beige shirt, loose and with no sleeves. He wore short white trousers to vaguely conceal his legs, which followed into comfortable beige slippers, matching the shade of his simple vest. Nothing about him particularly spoke to his class; he was certainly not a commoner, but not a noble either. Perhaps a member of the Halamire. He had the build for it, and the same reckless abandon tied into his behaviors. Fortunately, there was no one around to really speculate. He had managed to go far out enough from Amoren -- perhaps a two hour walk away -- that he was entering the vast ranch area filling its eastern exterior. The lands remained green and the trees still uniquely colored, but they were somewhat rarer, and the hills held the faintest touch of gold.

He looked over his shoulder as if to call to Reina. Normally, she accompanied him everywhere, but of late she'd been spending all of her hours seeking to court Lord... whatever his name was. For once, the Veir was traveling entirely alone, which felt serene in a way -- if dull. The nature farther out and even within the city limits was impressive, but perhaps not to the same degree as Railón. And he had seen it all before. And... this was where House Courvagne had been exposed to countless suffering; where it had met its fate.

Some part of him liked distancing himself from Amoren. Seeing the grandiose nature of the city, all of the wealth and prestige ascribed to it, and the truly colossal monument that was Ardenserat... it felt wrong. Like it had all been taken from him; like he had been deprived. And by the nature of shame, he would never see the riches or the glory that his father held. At least he would also be spared the humiliation.

His excitement momentarily grew. The town square for this... frontier community - though it was truthfully far from that - was right ahead. He could already see people gathering, all manner of maidens with their buckets of... whatever slop they were carrying, and gentlemen with their animals and their sticks. It was very proletarian. He laughed at the idea that some of the Entente were known to come to this little town, discreetly bedding the residents. He could not quite see the appeal, as many of them were covered in the shit and grime of their beasts. The Veir was more interested in the other outsiders. People who were also fleeing the city for equal discretion; they often had the greatest stories to tell.

Re: Faceless

Posted: Mon May 25, 2020 9:39 pm
by Urs Wardell

The sunlight warmed the brown of cobblestone street into red-speckled orange, mimicking the colors of the brick that made up the buildings that lined the narrow avenue. A variety of stores dotted the street in awkward clumps, like a shanty market place. Urs had spent the better part of the morning exploring, dodging the more persistent vendors to the best of his abilities.

The food stalls were especially appealing and Urs hadn't tried to avoid those as much as he did the others. He hadn't much use for the cheap rock jewelry, patched quilts, and chipped wooden furniture that populated many of the shops he passed, but he was always hungry. He ignored the merchants peddling homemade rock candy and the stands of fresh-made juices because they were largely overpriced (in his opinion) and he was craving something a bit more substantive.

He was able to find something better after a few minutes of searching. He exchanged a few coins for a heavy bowl of saucy rice and spiced meat and...well, he'd figure out soon. The vendor said something, but his accent heavy and he spoke too-quick, a combination that led to whatever he tried to convey being absolutely lost on Urs. Instead of asking him to repeat himself, Urs offered the man a soft nod - to which, the vendor smiled and squirted some violent yellow liquid over the top of his food.

Urs sat down on a stone bench in the town square. It was a beautiful day, although a bit too hot for him. He'd worn a light brown shirt and a pair of cotton pants. While he was still adjusting to the weather, having grown up in the cold of Lorien, he was happy to see the locals in similar ware. Perhaps he was adjusting much quicker than he'd thought possible.

His magic spilled from him before Urs managed to get a bite. It flooded the bowl and --

Hot, like really hot. The yellow sauce was almost painful and made his tongue curl and would if he ever put the spoonful in his mouth. The rice calmed him, taking in the heat, or would if he mixed it together. It was soft and pillowy and ate up the brown sauce which was -- sweet? It felt thin, thinner than he expected, and was a light natural sweetness there, mixed with a tinge of bright sour. The vegetables - stiff okra, sharp onions, carrots, and peppers were easy to point out. The meat, he guessed, was sausage.

Urs mixed it all together and finally took a bite.