87th Day of Zi'da
Arc 715
The walk between Ne'haer and the Seekers' Hideaway had seemed a lot longer all those Suns ago, when Cerys had first arrived from Viden. Before, grief had still weighed heavily on the young woman, and the journey had been too long, the last stretch feeling the longest. This morning, however, Cerys' spirits were higher than they had been since she arrived in Western Idalos. Rising early this morning, Cerys had decided to take a gander into the city, as she had no yet had the chance to explore it. Roslyn would not approve, she knew. But Rosyln was not here. And Dromus, who had been her only friend here, well he was busy today. He wouldn't mind, so kind and understanding that he was.
Nevertheless, Cerys had not wanted to run into another senior member of the Cell, so she had been careful to leave quietly and quickly. Taking a roundabout route to the city - she remembered which general direction it was in, but had been in no particular rush to get there, so the sun was high before she passed through the gates of Ne'haer, eyes wide as she was finally able to see the city truly. Even though it was nearing the end of the Cold Cycle, the city's weather was mild, enough so that the Neophyte had made no particular effort to dress warmly, donning a thinner cloak than the style she would have worn in Viden during the Hot Cycle. There was no snow in Ne'haer, not much white. It was nice, in a way, to actually see colour. Vide was still better, of course.
Wearing the clothes of the region (for her Videnese clothing was vastly inappropriate for her new home), Cerys did not stand out, and she slipped seamlessly into the crowd. Something else which was... nice. Cerys had woken up feeling rather content, and the leisurely walk into the city had only helped to relax her further. For the first time since leaving her home, Cerys found herself to be a nobody. No looks of hatred were cast her way, no whispered voices as she walked past. No one went out if his way to walk around her. Ordinarily, being normal was something that Cerys would have despised. But today's? After the endless treatment she had received among the Seekers - the few people who should understand, she was glad to be normal for a day.
Approaching a small tap house, Cerys smiled in thanks at the gentleman who held the door open for her as she entered. Approaching the bar, she asked a flagon of ale of the bartender, who busied himself with the order, making no comment on the early hour. The Neophyte’s family had never permitted the girl to consume mind-altering substances, and Tomás felt much the same way, given the nature of her gifts an temperament. Now, however, there was no one to stop her, and Cerys strongly doubted that Dromus would even mind if she returned to the Hideout with the slight smell of alcohol on her breath. In fact, Dromus would probably be happy that his friend was able to find a single day of enjoyment.
A pang of guilt did cause the girl a momentary hesitation, however, when she exchanged the single gold nel for the ale. It was not her nel, but Dromus’, and she had stolen it from her only friend the day before yesterday. Or… borrowed, for she would pay him back one day. Warlocks were deemed responsible for the funds of their Neophytes, and with Roslyn gone, Cerys had no means of accessing the money she had brought with her. But she suppressed the emotion; she would not run what she had planned to be a perfect day. “Thank you,” she said with a smile as she dragged her drink along the bar before picking it up and walking over to a table in the corner, by the fire, pocketing the change from the ale.
Nevertheless, Cerys had not wanted to run into another senior member of the Cell, so she had been careful to leave quietly and quickly. Taking a roundabout route to the city - she remembered which general direction it was in, but had been in no particular rush to get there, so the sun was high before she passed through the gates of Ne'haer, eyes wide as she was finally able to see the city truly. Even though it was nearing the end of the Cold Cycle, the city's weather was mild, enough so that the Neophyte had made no particular effort to dress warmly, donning a thinner cloak than the style she would have worn in Viden during the Hot Cycle. There was no snow in Ne'haer, not much white. It was nice, in a way, to actually see colour. Vide was still better, of course.
Wearing the clothes of the region (for her Videnese clothing was vastly inappropriate for her new home), Cerys did not stand out, and she slipped seamlessly into the crowd. Something else which was... nice. Cerys had woken up feeling rather content, and the leisurely walk into the city had only helped to relax her further. For the first time since leaving her home, Cerys found herself to be a nobody. No looks of hatred were cast her way, no whispered voices as she walked past. No one went out if his way to walk around her. Ordinarily, being normal was something that Cerys would have despised. But today's? After the endless treatment she had received among the Seekers - the few people who should understand, she was glad to be normal for a day.
Approaching a small tap house, Cerys smiled in thanks at the gentleman who held the door open for her as she entered. Approaching the bar, she asked a flagon of ale of the bartender, who busied himself with the order, making no comment on the early hour. The Neophyte’s family had never permitted the girl to consume mind-altering substances, and Tomás felt much the same way, given the nature of her gifts an temperament. Now, however, there was no one to stop her, and Cerys strongly doubted that Dromus would even mind if she returned to the Hideout with the slight smell of alcohol on her breath. In fact, Dromus would probably be happy that his friend was able to find a single day of enjoyment.
A pang of guilt did cause the girl a momentary hesitation, however, when she exchanged the single gold nel for the ale. It was not her nel, but Dromus’, and she had stolen it from her only friend the day before yesterday. Or… borrowed, for she would pay him back one day. Warlocks were deemed responsible for the funds of their Neophytes, and with Roslyn gone, Cerys had no means of accessing the money she had brought with her. But she suppressed the emotion; she would not run what she had planned to be a perfect day. “Thank you,” she said with a smile as she dragged her drink along the bar before picking it up and walking over to a table in the corner, by the fire, pocketing the change from the ale.