-In that very same Inn-
Falling blades of grass so evergreen, from trees with everlasting canopies.
Sunlight shines down upon heaven. The heaven on the earth.
He sees the light shine down, through the meadow's flowers and upon his cheeks. It is warm. It fills him with peace.
The reflection of the water glistened with the might of the star. Innocent fingers swipe along the surface of the water's edge. The laughter of children. The sound of their jewelry flicking about in their excitement of play.
Monuments of silver and gold in the distance. Despite the warmth, it feels numb. Something is wrong. These memories are not his own.
A false peace. That was how Ryanti described sleep. It was a deception of the body, he thought. A ruse to allow oneself to retreat into pretty little dreams as his aching body healed and his aetherial sickness slowly drained away like the water in a bathtub after one had pulled the plug.
There he laid, white locks dancing about his features. Young aquamarine eyes were shrouded in a misty redness of bloodshot fatigue. Etched on the left side of his face, barely visible, were lines. Lines that seemed tattooed upon the fibers of his skin. It faded away after a few moments of shimmering in a quiet cyan shade.
He was not completely well yet. It had not been a month since his last incursion.
He slaved to grab half of his face with the sweaty palm of his open hand. A moan emerged from the quietness of his inn room's head. It was not a moan of pleasure like perhaps this mattress had seen in the past, but rather of pain. It was a pleasant memory, but it was not his. From what era, from who it was he had no idea. He could never tell anyone of this. It was something he had to live with.
He looked at himself in the mirror. What a mess he was, what a body he had. His fingertips pricked and touched the side of his cheek that had bared those lines moments before. Now his skin was as clear as a whistle. He poked it a little bit just so he could still feel it. It goes numb when those lines come.
Those words weren't his either. They were from another of his same occupation, a person he did not even know the name to. Only a number. Were they dead now? Were they dead and gone? There was a good chance they were.
A few coughs here. A drink of water helped. It helped a lot. He needed breakfast. He needed to leave that room and get some fresh air. Fresh air would be nice.
---
"Oh-umm... 'how 'but a glass of cawfee?" The stammering teenaged Miqo'te server asked Ryanti with a little bit of concern at the humble Thanalan abode. It was a rather quiet little place; out of the way of the main city districts. It was a product of the new 'push' within the city limits of having more of a 'homey' atmosphere meant to distract someone from the hustle and bustle of the actual Desert Jewel itself. Despite the fact that Ul'Dah never slept, it's men and women did. It was also cheap, decently enough. Probably because it was family owned.
Indeed the father of the maiden appeared before her and spoke. "I think he would rather have a glass of some fruit juice. You look like you've been through quite an adventure, young man."
Ryanti managed to push himself back from leaning upon the bar counter, thank the Twelve the seats had a backrest. "You're right. I think I did." he said with a little smile. "I'll take you up on that offer, thank you."
He was wearing nothing but a white frilly suit, some dark blue trousers with golden threading in the knee accents, and some decent black traveling shoes. He had dropped off his equipment already, now he was trying to get some rest. But he didn't feel like going home yet. There was still things he needed to do.
Falling blades of grass so evergreen, from trees with everlasting canopies.
Sunlight shines down upon heaven. The heaven on the earth.
He sees the light shine down, through the meadow's flowers and upon his cheeks. It is warm. It fills him with peace.
The reflection of the water glistened with the might of the star. Innocent fingers swipe along the surface of the water's edge. The laughter of children. The sound of their jewelry flicking about in their excitement of play.
Monuments of silver and gold in the distance. Despite the warmth, it feels numb. Something is wrong. These memories are not his own.
A false peace. That was how Ryanti described sleep. It was a deception of the body, he thought. A ruse to allow oneself to retreat into pretty little dreams as his aching body healed and his aetherial sickness slowly drained away like the water in a bathtub after one had pulled the plug.
There he laid, white locks dancing about his features. Young aquamarine eyes were shrouded in a misty redness of bloodshot fatigue. Etched on the left side of his face, barely visible, were lines. Lines that seemed tattooed upon the fibers of his skin. It faded away after a few moments of shimmering in a quiet cyan shade.
He was not completely well yet. It had not been a month since his last incursion.
He slaved to grab half of his face with the sweaty palm of his open hand. A moan emerged from the quietness of his inn room's head. It was not a moan of pleasure like perhaps this mattress had seen in the past, but rather of pain. It was a pleasant memory, but it was not his. From what era, from who it was he had no idea. He could never tell anyone of this. It was something he had to live with.
He looked at himself in the mirror. What a mess he was, what a body he had. His fingertips pricked and touched the side of his cheek that had bared those lines moments before. Now his skin was as clear as a whistle. He poked it a little bit just so he could still feel it. It goes numb when those lines come.
Those words weren't his either. They were from another of his same occupation, a person he did not even know the name to. Only a number. Were they dead now? Were they dead and gone? There was a good chance they were.
A few coughs here. A drink of water helped. It helped a lot. He needed breakfast. He needed to leave that room and get some fresh air. Fresh air would be nice.
---
"Oh-umm... 'how 'but a glass of cawfee?" The stammering teenaged Miqo'te server asked Ryanti with a little bit of concern at the humble Thanalan abode. It was a rather quiet little place; out of the way of the main city districts. It was a product of the new 'push' within the city limits of having more of a 'homey' atmosphere meant to distract someone from the hustle and bustle of the actual Desert Jewel itself. Despite the fact that Ul'Dah never slept, it's men and women did. It was also cheap, decently enough. Probably because it was family owned.
Indeed the father of the maiden appeared before her and spoke. "I think he would rather have a glass of some fruit juice. You look like you've been through quite an adventure, young man."
Ryanti managed to push himself back from leaning upon the bar counter, thank the Twelve the seats had a backrest. "You're right. I think I did." he said with a little smile. "I'll take you up on that offer, thank you."
He was wearing nothing but a white frilly suit, some dark blue trousers with golden threading in the knee accents, and some decent black traveling shoes. He had dropped off his equipment already, now he was trying to get some rest. But he didn't feel like going home yet. There was still things he needed to do.
![[Image: 8wQ4Jkf.png?2]](http://i.imgur.com/8wQ4Jkf.png?2)
![[Image: orVQTe3.png?1]](http://i.imgur.com/orVQTe3.png?1)
