Loshis 27, 2719
In shaking Ralor's hand, Palis let his field breathe and swell to greet-- but not invade-- the other's. He knew his field to be weak for a galdor, as his father had undoubtedly reminded him most of his young life, but he liked to make it known, if only for his own reassurance that he would not be mistaken for someone of another race or underestimated as he had been in school. Yet, the familiar greeting of fields found Palis' to wash against Ralor's like a tidal wave ridiculed against a tower sea wall. He recoiled as he retracted his hand, drawing it in as if two forces had grabbed it's draw string mouth and pulled away from Palis, leaving him sucked up into the middle of it.
Ralor was, most obviously, Hoxian. His face structure in itself was sharp and clean, all uniform angles under soft white canvas. He had dark hair cut into a fashion Palis had never seen before, shaved military short on the sides and left to flow long down the middle. Had their meeting not been of professional importance to both of them, or had he been younger and less experienced, Palis would have asked Ralor about both his hair and his fashion. He knew his own love of colors and florals was eccentric, to say the very least, in the dull political landscape of grey, black, and navy. In a lineup of politicians, his gawdy green would be picked out much faster than Ralor's dark palette, but leather- leather was certainly new against the suede and silk world Palis tucked himself into. Yet, Ralor smiled kindly at him despite their numerous differences, and, in an atmosphere of hostility and wrinkled frowns, Palis welcomed a new smile into his workplace.
"It's a pleasure to meet you as well. It's always nice to see more young minds invested in politics," he said lightly, lining his words with a genuine smile, then accepted Ralor's gesture to lead. "Of course, business."
The two umbrellas floated back up the slick white steps to the Capitol, and Palis held the door for Ralor before shaking his umbrella onto the steps and allowing the door to close behind him, shutting out the pattering sound and the soil-infused smell of rain, letting the enveloping din of the Capitol, busy this time of morning, wash over them.
"It's a beautiful place to work, really," Palis mentioned without so much as looking up as he folded his umbrella, hooked it over his arm, and guided Ralor just out of the way of the bustling doors that opened and closed and let in the sound and smell of the rain as if someone was rapidly opening and closing a box carriage window as it tumbled through the countryside. Before the pair was a perfectly symmetrical room of delicate marble, a large rectangular box they had entered through its longest side. The floor was polished enough to make Palis feel as though he could dive into the amber ocean below into a world where the sounds were drowned into the muffled peacefulness of water. The high golden ceiling vaulted into a painting of history-- of war, of foraging, of victory. Beyond this high ceilinged hall, the building split into two floors. The bottom level was that of wide, white marble arches that led to quiet corridors, On either side of the room, a grand white staircase ran from the far end of the room towards them, up to a second floor of thin white columns. The room was absolutely immaculate, and full of a bustling social life. Palis took it in for a moment, then turned to Ralor.
"I simply get lost in the scenery sometimes, he said breathily, then began towards the stairs. "You'll primarily be upstairs. That's where the incumbent offices are." And Palis began to ascend, then paused and turned to Ralor, his small hand on the railing.
"This level is meeting spaces and library archives. You'll be asked to fetch documents from the archives occasionally and are allowed to access it as you'd like for your own pursuits," he continued now up the stairs, smiling at the incumbents who passed and barely gave him a glance, giving small verbal greetings to the interns he passed, a form of camaraderie among them. The upper level was quieter than the lower, though the openness of the building only pushed the din of conversation farther away. Offices lined the walls, most of the heavy wooden doors closed and unwelcoming. The offices made an initial ring around the lower level, and hallways dribbled off from the corners. Palis lead Ralor around the ring, and stopped at the first open door it came to. The name plaque that decorated every door seemed to have been pried off.
"A diplomat from Gior just left us after an extended stay, and I've just managed to take her office as my own. It's one of the smallest offices here, you'll see, but it makes due. We can drop our umbrellas in here, rather than dragging them through the building," Palis said, wishing it wasn't impolite for him to also change his shoes as the wetness spread with every step through his socks. He pushed the door open the rest of the way to a small, but brightly lit room with one large window. Had it been a bedroom, a simple, twin-sized bed would have taken up over half of the room. A small desk sat in the corner, more of a classroom desk than an office desk by size, and the room was filled with an organized mess that screamed Moving in progress. Watch your step! He nudged his bright green shoes, dry, under the desk farther, then hung his umbrella by its hooked end on the small coat rack of four pegs beside his door.
"Leave what you like in here, I'll lock the door," Palis invited, perhaps too proud of his first personal office. He leaned patiently on the desk. "Whenever you're ready, we'll head out."