vks household, kzecka
dawn on the 26th of Achtus, 2719
Achtus in the northernmost kingdom was like nowhere else, for even the daytime hours were shrouded in velvety black and lit only by the twinkling, distant stars. Sometimes, like this morning, ribbons of glowing color danced through the sky, stretched thin as it was this high in the mountains, swaying and trailing above to a song no mortal had yet to hear.
Kzecka was even more isolated than Frecks had been days ago when they'd arrived, the bell-filled city tucked away in the rocks and the ice. Phosphor and fire kept the communes and artisans, libraries and temples, schools and shops warm and inviting. The journey that had cut between the cliff faces and carved into ice had been dark and dangerous, making the glimmer of tsvat candles and glow of hearths that much more welcome upon arrival, even if the quiet, hardy residents had been wary of their travel-weary guests outside of Ezre's family—even the Guide's extended family—who'd proven themselves eager to show Hoxian hospitality to those they'd heard so much about already.
High altitudes and frigid temperatures, thick snowfall and harsh winds were contrasted with toasty interiors and comfortable furs, spiced meals and herbal tea. The city of prayer and contemplation ran on a rigid schedule even without daylight, and not a single living soul seemed lost without the sun to cast its predictable shadows across the rough, volcanic landscape to declare the passage of time. Foreign visitors were rare outside of Frecks and Montacks, but many from other Kingdoms (save for, perhaps Gior, but no one could remember the last time Giorans had willingly set foot this far north of Mugrobi sands) found the long winters in Hox to be difficult to adapt to, the cold and the dark often leading to feelings of restless hopelessness when not kept in check.
There were, of course, cultural anthropologists who insisted that the richness of Hoxian artistic expression were in direct correlation to this threat of lack-of-light-induced despair, but some theories were simply impossible to prove when no one wanted to brave the weather for the careful research it would take to come to any conclusion. Hoxian life moved along regardless, survival both a joy and a source of pride, even if no one showed it on their faces in public so much as wove it into song and tucked it into poetry, even if no one spoke of it directly so much as carved it into stone and swayed with it in dance.
Aware that days had passed since their arrival, Ezre had given everyone time to at least pretend to acclimate to that breathless feeling Anaxi lungs surely felt this high above sea level and had done his best to keep everyone warm in the hewn stone of his family home. He didn't apologize for the rhythmic schedule he immediately fell into without question, up before what would have been dawn and performing duties expected of an eldest—of an only—child in his household despite how he stood on the cusp of adulthood himself.
Where Brunnhold student life was often one of being served, the Hexxos Guide in the city of his birth lived in service. It was with quiet hesitance that he'd asked permission for a few days of absence from his faithful duties, wanting freedom from the cycle of prayer and chores so that he could explore and research, so that he could delve into the dusty places of deep, forgotten knowledge in the hopes of finding direction and discovering truth about the path that lay ahead of himself and Lilanee, of the path that was shrouded in the strange mists that obscured Western Anaxas.
The storms that had delayed and hampered their travel had cleared a few nights before, leaving everything blanketed in deep, quiet white. The young Guide, as usual, woke early, slipping silently from warm layers of wool and fur, from the warmer comforts of another body to stoke fires and finish packing, flitting about in barely enough light linen robes to possibly be warm. Padding through a hushed house that even he knew wasn't all sleeping—surely his umah was already awake somewhere—Ezre prepared packs with food and water, bundled carefully to keep from freezing during the long hike he'd carefully planned. He might have packed more than was necessary, but with the weather being so unpredictable this far in the Spondola Mountains, the Hexxos had learned it was better to be overburdened than underfed.
Climbing gear was checked by lantern light more than once, even though Ezre knew his otsur had made sure of its soundness the evening before. It wasn't supposed to be necessary, of course, but lessons learned over years of isolated, Kzecka living had made Ezre cautious about getting stuck or lost, no matter how much trust he placed in his growing, changing Clairvoyant skills. Finally, he set the kettle on to begin with a warm breakfast before heading out into the bitter cold beyond the double wooden doors of his home.
Once satisfied with the start of things, the Hoxian climbed the stairs back toward the thatch-roofed loft that had become his shared room with Lilanee so that their raen guest cold have a bed and a private space to himself. No one doubted the two students had too many qualms about cohabitating during their stay, anyway.
Shutting the door behind him, he knelt to rouse the russet brunette with a gentle hand, just when the bells marking the dawn echoed through the city known for their loud, clear song,
"It is morning and the libraries have been patient enough, vre'ia."
