21st day of winter, 512 AV
The sea air and the cloudy water, that had to draw a smirk on the foreigner's features. It was just the kind of sight that would inspire her. To top it off, Syliras was a huge grey stormhold, so the docks contrasted without even trying. Beauty existed in human crafts, but nature had to be incorporated, always. It was a lesson of balance, the apprentice convinced herself of this.
Tatiam's eyes felt saturated with vivid shades of blue, her silhouette standing at the end of the hill before the docks, admiring silently the landscape. The docks weren't at their busiest, gladly, but ships would come and go frequently, the shouts of sailors working in unison merely part of the humdrum tune. Staying away from the action looked like a good idea, for the mixed-blood would only be in the way otherwise. Tatiam gazed at the workers, the sails, the wooden ships, remembering the tales of her mother and trying to put together the old stories and the current view.
