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Gior's galdori temple city and also most populated. Home of the ruling Gioran family as well as the center of Gioran education with both the Temple and the University in the same location.

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Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Raksha
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Mon Jan 07, 2019 10:54 pm

14th Achtus, 2718
BATHS OF GIORE| EVENING
Image
Athrym stared out the window of her carriage, summer eyes a thousand miles away from here, somewhere back in Anaxas thinking of all the different things she should have said or not said. All the different things she should have done or not done. The view outside was nothing but soaring rock walls, familiar in their cold grey barrenness. She’d already made the thirty or so day flight to Giorite via aeroship, landing in the township for barely more than half an hour before she’d climbed into the back of a moa drawn carriage for a five day ride up into Qrieth.

Imaan, it was beautiful in the midlands. Nothing but miles of lush green hills and valleys, leading into the ever imposing Damna Erth Gorge. It was a marvel of nature, carved by the eons of water and wind, snow and sun, until it stood like a great hallway beckoning the unwary into its clutches. As they raced across the rocky ground, the calls of the white birds that pulled the carriage echoed off its vast sides, reminiscent of the Echo Casting that was mastered in the site. Of course, there was always danger that the Driegeth would intercept them, but there’d not been violence from the rebels in at least thirty years. The young woman felt no fear as she rode through the gorge, her window open to let the crisp Achtus chill caress her face. Snow had collected on the mountain caps of the Giore Ranges, she could see it even from here as they picked their way further and further in towards Qrieth’s entrance.

It was all so beautiful and yet, her heart felt heavy. Home was what she had deemed necessary. What she had wanted, but she’d wanted to do it with Nauleth. She’d wanted to show him the sweeping hills and the grandeur of Damna Erth. It was a bitter sweet return.

The carriage slowed, and a knock on the roof signalled the Ambassador that they had arrived. As the door was swung open by the attendent, Athrym stepped down out of the relative warmth of the vehicle onto the soft rockdust floor on the narrow pathway that led to the Gates of Imaan. Snow was falling from high, flittering down from the night sky in soft fat flakes to settle on the cold stone ground, melting rapidly should they fall near any of the warm orange phosphorus lights that were nestled in small scones carved along the pathway. Her breath puffed and she pulled back the fur lined hood of her pristine white cloak to stare up at the towering ivory pillars that announced the opening into the great temple city.

Leaving her bags in the care of the attendents, the delicately framed Gioran made her way towards the Gates, looking up at the carvings on the exterior. She knew them all by heart of course, but it seemed almost surreal to see them again. Pausing in between the huge stone structures, she glanced back at the carriage, as though expecting to see a lopsided grinning red head come strolling around from behind it. Like nothing had happened.

“Athrym Bruthgrave?” A level, deep voice said from before her, causing the woman to sigh and turn, her wistful gaze turning into a mask of emotionlessness and something that could be translated as mild boredom. She turned her head up slightly, to look at the towering passive man that stood before her. He was as pale as cut quartz with lavender eyes and white lashes. His hair was long, braided on either side to keep it away from his chiselled face.

Yes, she was definitely home.

“Yes, I am she.” The woman said softly, nodding in a general greeting at the man, uncaring about the lack of field that came from him. As she should be. It was strange, all of a sudden, to see a passive as accepted and welcome as herself. Strange, and proper. It was Aminark’s great gift to them, acceptance of all Gioran galdori no matter their magical prowess. The taller man bowed deeply, before sweeping his arm outwards towards the Amphitheatre.

“Your mother advises she is expecting you. I am to bring you to the Baths to receive her.” The blonde held back a sigh, lifting her chin and raising her hand to stop him.

“Thank you sir. I am well aware of where the Baths of Giore are. You can leave.” Without another word, the man bowed again, before spinning on his heal and leaving the shorter woman to her own thoughts. Of course Carmell knew she was on her way home. Even without telling the woman, she’d managed to get the news somehow. Probably though her wretched father and his connections with Hadrian Siordanti. Fan-clocking-tastic. Taking a deep breath, she moved across the polished white floor, heels clicking loudly as she passed by albino peers like a sore thumb. They were perfection, carved of stone and ice, stoic and as unshakable as the city itself. Towering specimens of her kind, with the purity of skin and eyes that was in Aminark’s very visage.

And she was a short, barely classed as alabaster hybrid with eyes as dark and ugly as the summer hillsides. A freak.

Taking the carved staircase that led towards the Baths, she considered stopping in Upperton. To leave Carmel waiting whilst she bathed in private and changed her travelworn clothing, to rest a moment on her own. It would infuriate the woman, and for once in her life the youngster was not ready for a fight. Her emotional turmoil roiled under the well constructed mask, and she bit the inside of her cheek hard. Pressing on, she entered the arched opening of the Baths, pausing for a moment before she headed directly towards the upper class baths. There was no doubt her mother would be in there, and most likely in one of the private rooms, just to really ensure she could have a proper dig at her wayward daughter.

“Where can I find Carmell Mathel-Bruthgrave?” She asked one of the women attendants, who looked down at her with a steady field and a curious look as the returning Ambassador removed her cloak in the thick humidity of the air in the Baths. The smell of Imaans Breath Blossoms assaulted her senses, almost cloying suddenly. Had it always been that strong?

“Her name is not familiar today. Are you sure—” A woman's voice called out smoothly from over the softly glowing heated waters of the last of the three public pools, a pale arm beckoning her.

“To me, Athrym.” Was all she said.


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User avatar
Athrym Bruthgrave
Posts: 120
Joined: Tue Apr 03, 2018 10:30 pm
Topics: 13
Race: Galdor
Location: Qrieth
: Welcome to Brunnhold. Now go home.
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Raksha
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Sat Mar 30, 2019 6:36 am

14th Achtus, 2718
BATHS OF GIORE| EVENING
Image
Oh by The Child’s Light, it was a public affair today.

Athrym kept her face a mask of quartz, of unmoving rock as the winter crashed down on it with fury and tempest, turning to walk towards the pool in a sweep of sapphire skirts.

“Mother, it has been a long trip, could we not reunite in pri—“ She began, cut short by Carmel’s rose colored gaze, so cold it could have frozen the pools.

”I take it, you’ve rid yourself of these foolish notions of a diplomatic career now? I told you, your father is Anaxi and has no idea what is right for you, but you spoke against my advice and look what it got you.” It was spoken as though the woman were describing the weather, but the younger galdor felt the rancor in her field and saw the tension in her shoulders. Carmel was reveling in being right, and she wanted her words to travel, to make sure that Athrym would not be chosen again so quickly for a position outside of Gior’s borders.

”I have learned much in my time in Ana—“ The blonde began, clenching her jaw as her mother raised her hand for silence.

“And now look at you, betrothed to a foreigner who insults your culture and your intelligence. You are shamed, and for nothing but your own rebellious pride.” The pale creature blushed, frowning at her mother, uncaring that she was showing the emotional cracks in her Gioran armor.

“What? How…how did you…” Standing from the steaming waters in one fluid movement, the older woman held her arms out as one of the bath attendants brought a towel to wrap around her naked pale skin. Stepping from the pool, she approached Athrym, field oppressive with annoyance and disappointment.

“You really think something like the organisation of marriage between Lord Bruthgrave and Incumbent Siordanti for you and the boy would escape my ears? I knew, but I knew better than to speak against it. I hoped you would be smart enough to see it, but as always you were blinded by your own selfishness and emotions.” Drying her quartz figure, the taller woman looked down at the girl with all the judgement she could muster. To an outsider, it seemed like the face of calm, stoic and stony. To a Gioran however, it was a blatant mask of revulsion.

“At least you are home now. We can focus on your research and studies, and find a good lineage for your children. There’s already enough Anaxi in this family, the least we can do is breed it out through your offspring.” Athrym blinked, taken aback by the woman's comments and blushing a deep pink.

“What in Imaan’s name are you even saying? I’m not some Menagerie beast to be bred for purity, I’m your clocking daughter.” The outburst was embarrassing, and Carmel let her gaze slide to the other Giorans in the pool who glanced in their direction subtly, before looking back at her child.

“Correct, and as the Matriarch in this family, I know what is best for us. And it is best that we correct my fathers own mistakes rather than repeat them. You are not going to breed with the Anaxi, and you will honor Aminark’s name by upholding your Matriarch’s rule. You will clean our family name, and bear pure offspring whilst seeking to become as one with the mona to find your True Name.” Covering her face with her hands, face a deep mauve with shame and anger, the Ambassador took a slow inhale. She knew that Carmel had done this on purpose, had intentionally called her out in public to make her point clear, using the tribal traditions of their people to back her into submission. The woman was manipulative and cold, emotionless on the outside but seething with blackness and hatred inside. Did she hate her own daughter? Maybe. Maybe she was jealous, maybe she really was ashamed of the mixed blood. Eitherway, the tall statuesque woman played her hand perfectly, leaving the blonde to fight back her swelling of feelings.

“I must take my leave, Most Revered Matriarch Bruthgrave, to seek the wisdom of the Church. May Imaan bless you.” The Gioran said unevenly, removing her hands from her face and balling them by her side, staring through the woman with temple throbbing and jaw twitching. Carmel tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement, rose quartz eyes watching the short blonde as she turned on her heel and strode from the pools in a sweep of sapphire and silk.

The polished stone floors and quartz walls were a blur as she half ran through Qrieth, making her way upwards towards the Church of The Eternal Child, tears straining her vision. Reaching the doors of the vast cavernous cathedral, Athrym swept down the aisle, falling to her knees before the alter with a sob.

“Imaan’s Light bless you child.” A small, yet powerful voice spoke softly above the blonde. She lifted her face, looking up the white and silver robes into the face of a passive priestess. The girl was young, maybe no more than eleven, with wide pink eyes and white long hair. Her little face, still caught in a child's softness, smiled down at the woman prone at her feet.

“Does it though? I feel as though I’ve stepped into the darkness and lost my way. Everything hurts and…I don’t…forgive me Eternal Voice of Imaan. I am so lost.” Athrym wept, moving to press her forehead against the youngsters monite inscribed hem of her clothing and squeezing her eyes shut. The tall girl leaned down and placed a hand gently on pale locks.

“All that are lost can be found, with Imaan’s holy guidance. Come child, let us talk, in private. I am Illustrious Peak.” Small hands softly guided the pale mixed nationality woman to her feet, keeping her hand in Athrym’s as she led her from the main room. The blonde’s breath hitched and she looked over at the girl who was a fraction taller than herself.

“Thank you.” She whispered to the girl, who merely smiled and led the way to the side rooms.

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