25th Intas, 2720
THE STACKS | AROUND LUNCHTIME
THE STACKS | AROUND LUNCHTIME
It had been so fast, so urgent. A union to allow the blonde a sense of belonging, after fleeing her home under threat of death. A befitting one though, done without ceremony or planning, just herself and Nauleth under the eyes of civil law. Something about it felt right, after everything they’d just left behind it was almost like a ‘clock you’ to the Da Huanes and their insanity.
Now, they lived in Brunnhold, the clever red haired man she could claim to be her husband stepping back into his teaching and studies with a determination that the pale creature knew came from scars that were more than physical. Sometimes, it concerned her, that look in his eyes when he fell down the rabbit hole of Physical experimentation. But then, more than that, it made her proud. There were things out there, in the deep dark, that could tear a man to pieces. And people that would with-hold knowledge for the power it gave them.
And her husband could probably take them both on, with his electricity and his magic.
She herself had made good use of her diplomatic wordplay and unique heritage, to find a spot as a guest lecturer in the University’s dueling department, teaching the art of Echo Casting in the Gyre. Of course, there was a bit of theory to get through. She’d written her own curriculum for the first forms, Headmaster Ophelia suggesting containing her sessions only to a small group before making it a formal offering. Athrym had created a series of lectures; starting with the history of Echo Casting, and the uses it had. Given she had only started on the fifth of Intas with the new year, the young woman was enjoying it. Talking about Gior in such a…impartial viewpoint…seemed to help something inside of her to heal. It wasn’t perfect, but she could talk about her country of birth without feeling a sense of vile dread and anger in her chest. The mechanics were next, and a small practical lesson to demonstrate the effectiveness using a very basic auditory spell that enhanced the castors ability to hear even the most minute of things, turning it into an Echo chorus that encompassed the small group and allowed them to listen to the ringing of the midday bell in Vienda. Eventually, she planned for the group to practice with a choice of two spells. She would need to decide on what those spells would be, and review with Ophelia before they could be approved. There was time though. The next lesson wasn’t until the twenty eighth. In between preparing for the classes and lecturing, the petite blonde offered herself as an assistant to the Living Wing professors, collecting papers and helping to grade or other menial tasks to keep her busy.
It was not just her wardrobe that she was rebuilding, it seemed.
As previously stated, it was too beautiful a day to be stuck indoors, and so Athrym had taken herself out off the campus grounds into the Stacks. There was the Arts Fair coming up in Bethas, and according to her colleagues there was a masquerade ball that the faculty attended. It seemed appropriate she should prepare for such an event, but by Imaan it was hot under the Anaxi sun. Too harsh for her pale skin, the Gioran withering as she moved through the city.
“By the Ten.” She muttered, looking around at the street she found herself in, before summer eyes fell upon a neat sign hanging in the spring air.
Feldspar Tailoring- Bespoke apparel.
Fantastic.
“Good day?” The blonde called out as she pushed her way into the shop, little bell ringing delightfully over the door. Within, the shop appeared older, but recently refurbished—worn countertops were scrubbed pristine, and stained a warm honey color, and newly-fitted racks lined the walls, holding folded bolts of fabric ranging all the way from basic linens and canvas to the rainbow hues of shining silk taffeta and rich velvets. Athrym’s eyes skimmed over the jeweled tones, wistfully looking at them as she wandered further in. Colors were so un-used in Gior, everything nothing more than a variant of white or offwhite or a pastel with touches of gold or silver. The refugee found herself trapped in that mindset still, her current attire a simple white blouse and a pastel lavender skirt. Colors were confusing, but it didn’t mean she didn’t like them. She in fact, had worn red on the Clocks Eve prior to returning to Gior. Gods, that had been so long ago...
Pulling herself from the fabric, the young woman called out again.
“Sorry to be a bother, but I am in need of a hat, and I saw your sign.” She called out again, hoping that hats were indeed something that could be bought in such a tailors shop.
