There was something to be said about how stitching of my collar seemed to dig into my throat, pulling taught against sensitive skin with every swallow. The air was particularly hot, despite the chill throughout the palace halls. Winter was in full-swing and the general bustle of the people had slowed to a crawl, preferring to stay warm and safe rather than out and about in the snow. Which was reasonable. This errand though, was not so much. Cold radiated from the stone walls of the Denocte keep, though it was quashed almost as quickly as it seeped through by the flickering light of the lanterns that lined the walls. Although they were not very large, the warmth they radiated felt close and homely. Not nearly warm enough to inspire a film of perspiration across my brow, though, and so I could not help but question what it was about this summons that had my heart stumbling and nerves on edge.
Perhaps it was the source.
It had been quite a long time since Isra had called upon me, though our last meeting had been gentle and informative. Laid casually before a roaring fire-place within the depths of her personal quarters, I had listened to her chosen story of that time. A story of winter and the sea, of love and battle, heartbreak and death. Which tended to be a theme with Isra, but... there was always a lesson. Always some reason behind her tales, though I could not always figure out what. She did not like to give away the answers, rather preferring to let me do it on my own. Her way of teaching me problem-solving skills no doubt. I liked to think I was fairly successful at finding solutions, however, my tutor did not.
Just the very thought of that insipid stallion made me want to scowl. Hare-brained fool that he was! Don't do this!, don't do that! he said, that's not how I showed you!. Who cares how I did it? I thought then, as long as the answer is correct. I knew how to follow instructions, I knew how to read and understand guidelines, how to root out details between the lines. How dare he presume that I was anything less just based on my personal decision not to play by his rules! The information, in its base concept, was still the same.
It felt as if the trek to the commons room was too short, for suddenly the roof was arching above my head as the silken drapery of the door frame slid across my back. It opened forth into a shockingly large chamber, held up with meticulously carved pillars, framed with elegant, yet subtle decorum in deep colors befitting Caligo. My collar was suddenly unbearably tight as each step echoed into the yawning emptiness. I was alone here, nobody else to fill the silence and it was so, so close. So very real, whispering in my ears, reaching out from the shadows. Isra? I called, controlling my features as my voice sounded hollow and small against the earthen stone.
ooc: @Isra @
