[P] A Light in the Abyss

[Orias]

ancient oracles walk softly at our feet

"Hail, stranger." Odd coloured eyes regard the mauve scholar with an air of quiet curiosity, shimmering in the lowlight as all divine things do. Incandesent, a pearl held up and marveled between reverant hands. Alive and snapping in the next instant, pale muzzle quirking up at the corners, a half-smile, secretive as hastily written notes hidden beneath a pillow at wolf hour. "It's warm today, is it not? One would be hard pressed to find this suitable weather unless they're born here."

Orias had grown up in a City upon a cliffs edge, salt winds and ocean spray. White marble structures gold dipped and woven by magic and an artisans dreaming touch. Warmth had always been balmed by the grace of the Sea, Solterra offered little in the way of buffering from the blistering crown of the Sun God himself. Save for the shadowed places beneath crumbling spires, weathered and worn through the ages. Monuments to history Orias would never witness, even if somehow, they came to hold Solterra close in their breast. The ultimate meaning and depth of the Land's history and it's inhabitants triumphs and pitfalls would mimic the thoughts and feelings one harbored after reading a particularly thrilling book. Certainly not superficial and artificially crafted, but it would be a shallow pool to sip from, given a lack of empathetic tetherings and lack of involvement to root them deeper.

In time, he thinks. His hourglass is full, firmly wrapped between the vestiges of his own design. They can tip it one way and then the other.

Stepping closer, hooves bellchime sweet against the cracked and sun kissed stones beneath their feet, leonine tail coiling around their hocks. "Orias," they greet, head tilting while gold horns glimmer. "And you are?"

sorry for such a long wait. @Silasthein

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