Post by Asch on May 28, 2017 9:52:59 GMT
The field of flowers was warm, but not uncomfortably so. The sun was bright, but not blindingly so.
It was so perfect it seemed almost artificial.
Having finally ventured away from the city, Asch wanders between the pillars of light, footsteps brisk, eyes on a piece of paper in front of him. Occasionally he drops to a seat in a relatively sparse patch of flowers and scribbles on it, a pencil held loosely in his left hand, his right holding the end of his scabbard steady to use as a makeshift writing surface across his knees.
It doesn't hurt to have a map, even one of this place, which supposedly changes as new portals appear. (And disappear. The destruction of worlds would seem impossible if he didn't know just how very close Auldrant had come. But it did, and he did, and while he's more prone to associating that destruction with Eldrant's blinding white than this world's idea of scattered darkness... Well, destruction is still destruction, in the end.)
Someone particularly perceptive, if they watched for long enough, might notice that he seems to orbit around one portal without looking at it directly, using it as a landmark of sorts for his mapping.
"That's all of them," he mutters to himself, tucking the pencil into a pocket somewhere on the underside of his tabard. "Now, after you go through, how do you get back...?"
Not that he especially minds the idea of going to another world and just... disappearing, into the crowd. But even if these gods allowed it (even if they didn't pry into his life the way everything else did), there's no way to tell from the light of the portals alone which worlds he could even pass for native in.
Thus, Asch stands, arms folded and expression scowling, as he considers, his back to home.
[[Note;; open, but a max of two people for right now, please!]]
It was so perfect it seemed almost artificial.
Having finally ventured away from the city, Asch wanders between the pillars of light, footsteps brisk, eyes on a piece of paper in front of him. Occasionally he drops to a seat in a relatively sparse patch of flowers and scribbles on it, a pencil held loosely in his left hand, his right holding the end of his scabbard steady to use as a makeshift writing surface across his knees.
It doesn't hurt to have a map, even one of this place, which supposedly changes as new portals appear. (And disappear. The destruction of worlds would seem impossible if he didn't know just how very close Auldrant had come. But it did, and he did, and while he's more prone to associating that destruction with Eldrant's blinding white than this world's idea of scattered darkness... Well, destruction is still destruction, in the end.)
Someone particularly perceptive, if they watched for long enough, might notice that he seems to orbit around one portal without looking at it directly, using it as a landmark of sorts for his mapping.
"That's all of them," he mutters to himself, tucking the pencil into a pocket somewhere on the underside of his tabard. "Now, after you go through, how do you get back...?"
Not that he especially minds the idea of going to another world and just... disappearing, into the crowd. But even if these gods allowed it (even if they didn't pry into his life the way everything else did), there's no way to tell from the light of the portals alone which worlds he could even pass for native in.
Thus, Asch stands, arms folded and expression scowling, as he considers, his back to home.
[[Note;; open, but a max of two people for right now, please!]]
