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Crescent Isles
Dangerous Horticulture Enthusiast
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Post by Akari on Feb 15, 2023 23:53:00 GMT -5
Darkveil City was far removed from anything Akari had ever experienced before. The ashen streets of this place were the antithesis of the Crescent Isle’s forests of green, the gentle feeling of leaves and grass underfoot replaced by piles of ash and debris. The people here are shadowed, their faces on the street shifting and wary of a clear stranger to these lands. Even the light here was different as it filtered through clouds, turning all the world to silver, as if color itself fled from this darkened place. The air itself made his lungs itch uncomfortably in his chest, like a cough was lingering and yet would not come forward.
He had nearly been pickpocketed twice since his arrival, though Akari had been quick to shoo away any straying fingers from his meager coin. But the bustling streets had driven him to seek shelter from the sea of people, leading him into a place only labeled as ‘The Rookery’.
Akari isn’t sure what he had been expecting from this place. Maybe Birds? But he does not find any inside. Instead, the interior is a somewhat inviting looking bar, though there are very few people presently inside, and among them Akari sticks out like a sore thumb. There is an elven man behind the bar who acknowledges Akari’s presence with a quick glance and a nod, as if Akari is welcome here despite his alien appearance. And yet, the welcome does nothing to soothe his fraying nerves.
What… What was he even doing here, he can’t help but wonder. He had been following whispers of a clue about the cult that had come to his village, but every lead he had found eventually lead to a dead end. Supposedly Darkveil was the perfect place to find people who were good at finding secrets, but so far, all Akari knew was that this was a fantastic place to find sticky fingers.
He… He couldn’t help but feel a little hopeless, and it no doubt showed on his face as he stood awkwardly in the doorway to the Rookery, unsure of where to go, but not quite able to make himself leave yet, either.
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CCS Courier
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Post by Delaela Fenastra-Asiliari on Feb 16, 2023 21:54:30 GMT -5
Despite her misgivings and the ever latent fear that she would be discovered by her unknown pursuers, Del was determined to make something of the... warmth she had found in Darkveil. A place to belong. A place where looking forward and not simply living day to day wasn't a mere possibility, but an actuality.
Upon her workshop, Ironwood Forge, being generously purchased and completely furnished, Del was all set for the grand opening later in the week. Some celebration was in order. This was something she had considered for herself, but never had the means, the resources, or the inclination to put down roots. Nor had such things ever come so easy. With things as they were, with being hunted, such a simple thing like a place to work was a lofty one indeed. As were things like friendship, four walls and a bed to sleep in. The workshop was just down the road from Shade's Valley, where she still stayed. Watching the children, finding new projects to work on within the orphanage itself, speaking with Cyran and Eleanor and Rhi'as, brought a lot of joy. More than Del thought she deserved.
Now that she had a proper forge, she could make things of metal again. A place to make bigger objects made of wood. As she walks through the streets of Darkveil, Del smiles to herself, feeling the light, soothing press of the night-sky ring around her neck. She could get a bottle of something from the bar-- she had heard that The Rookery was likely the best place for that, to get something that wasn't watered down, or worse, made with paint thinner or turpentine. It might be more expensive, but this would be worth it.
It would be a great way to thank the people here who had helped her come that far.
Ignoring the quiet flutter in her chest, Del takes her time finding The Rookery. By now, she has been here long enough to know who and what to avoid and which streets to walk. Still, today is busier than she's used to, though perhaps that's the hour; in the middle of the afternoon, it was rare to not be working. But if working at Shade's Valley had taught her anything these past couple of weeks, it was that breaks were something that were not earned, but expected. So, she would enjoy this one, even if it was partially productive, too.
Coming up to the bar itelf, Del looks up-- the clock tower, long-since defunct, was a stunning landmark in the city. Regardless of her general feeling of safety at the moment, Del does her usual check of the surroundings; nothing that stuck out. Nothing to swerve from, no secrets to unearth, save for the little package she was supposed to get today. She could see people eyeing her from the shadows, but as long as they stayed there, she wasn't so inclined to act on that. Today, she had nothing to fear.
Carefully opening the door of The Rookery-- another habit, checking corners-- she realizes that there is someone standing in the doorway. She blinks and takes a step back, not sure if they are leaving or entering. Should... she speak first? They seemed distracted. "Oh, my apologies, I didn't see you there before I opened the door." She trails off for a moment as she gets a good look at the young person. They were striking, snow blonde hair and obsidian eyes, gently The markings were a little strange but... there was something familiar about them. Del didn't know them, that was for certain, she would remember someone like this. Something else. The look of uncertainty and concern? That was recognizable, but not in the sense of knowing...
Their style of dress is what clues her in, to which Society it belongs. Crescent Isles, the first place she could remember and, for all intents and purposes, her country of origin. A wide smile blooms across her face as she bows from the waist, hands moving in front of her to place fist into palm, that identified her culturally. "I am Delaela Asiliari. Is everything alright?" She asks as she straightens, looking at the young soul who seemed... a little distressed, if she was judging their expression at all.
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Adventurer
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Renown
Crescent Isles
Dangerous Horticulture Enthusiast
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Post by Akari on Feb 4, 2024 15:23:40 GMT -5
It takes more self restrain than Akari would like to admit, even to himself, to keep from reaching for Tsubaki or Hasu at his side when he is addressed while lost in thought. Perhaps he should have gone looking for an inn when he sought somewhere to take shelter from the crowd. Clearly the anxiety of being in such an unfamiliar place was getting to him, and a private room to rest calm himself sounded achingly ideal at the moment.
If he could even afford something like that…
But he does manage to restrain himself nonetheless, though his hands do jerk as he startles back from the stranger who is now speaking to him. An Elven Woman, one who stands just barely taller than him with glimmering eyes and the sort of demeanor that speaks of age Akari recognizes from another woman, now long gone to him.
The gesture of greeting visibly surprises him. He had not been greeted so since leaving the Isle of his homeland, and it takes a moment before he once again startles, this time hurrying to return the gesture so as to not appear even ruder than he already must seem for standing in the doorway like a very purple log-
When he is done, she has also finished speaking, now waiting for a reply he would not be able to give. At least not verbally. For a moment he almost moves his hands to answer, but remembers himself and instead reaches for the notebook strapped to his hip-
The…… The notebook strapped to his….?
Eyes widening in surprise, Akari looks down to his alarmingly empty belt. He could still feel his coin purse tucked close to his chest- But his notebook…! He looks arounds himself, almost spinning in a circle to check the ground beneath his feet for any sign of what he already knows was likely stolen off of him.
Damn it all, he was so concerned with keeping his coin and more valuable objects on his person that he forgot about perhaps the most important one.
Coming to a standstill, the dark eye’d boy opens his mouth and looks at this Delaela Asiliari helplessly, unable to give her even his name.
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