12th of Spring, 514
It was time to bid adieu to Zeltiva. Mundane, weak. All of the knowledge of the world, the pattering of the scholarly seeking to deepen their understanding of the world and use it to their advantage. It was pitiful. They spoke of the world but ignored magic. They ignored djed. They spoke of principle and understanding but utterly bypassed such an ingrained aspect of the world. The Nuit was finished with it. Mortals were quickly becoming a waste of his time. In his memory, something stirred. A place located near his original place of birth, a location that he had been in before, yet the name eluded him. Regardless... Sunberth is the place I must approach, first. I will learn what needs to be done.
The Nuit made his way through the city in the wake of morning, the sun rising over the head of clouds that covered the sky as the child-in-seeming cast his eyes about. The docks were all around him, but he needed to find a ship. An individual ship that could take him to where he needed to go. The Nuit dragged his rucksack along on the floor, the rattling of coin and object alike audible within, yet he cared not. The bag was inconsequential, his destination and getting the bag there, however, was. Volanaro could have simply carried the bag upon a discus of ice and made his work easier, but it was to keep the disguise, to show the world what he was not and make it easier for the sailor to take him in. Manipulation was at the apex of this child-like form's utility, and he enjoyed it immensely.
The Nuit huffed needlessly, kicking the bag in front of him when he finally reached the casinor of his choice, the Nuit pressing his hands to his knees as he willed trace amounts of Res to permeate at his brow, transmuting it into water and allowing the Reimantic 'perspiration' to drip along the surface of his pale skin as he called out, doing his utmost to imitate the living, though he was likely exaggerating. He didn't know or care, so long as the task was done properly. The Nuit called out to the ship's 'captain' (a mortal show of pompousness to call a ship of one's driver a captain), his words flowing normally despite the perceived exhaustion he was meant to show. "Excuse me! Could you help me?"
The sailor emerged from the inside of the casinor, bright blue eyes staring into the child as a sun-kissed hand rose to brush the locks of his long, braided dirty-blonde locks. "What d'ye want, lad?" The Svefra called out to him, a hand pressed to the gunwale of his small ship as the Nuit raised his head to speak.
"I need passage to Sunberth! I know it's far, but I'll pay whatever you ask..." The Nuit gave a shake to the bag containing the small fortune he had stolen from his current body's family when in life. He knew of the use of the miza, and had held on to it, using a grand portion of it for flights of fancy, such as the looking glass.
The Svefra scoffed for a moment regarding the idea of compensation before he heard the sound of the bag's shaking. Several gold mizas had fallen from the bag due to the motion, the man stepping forward to pick one up and observe it closely. He gave a moment of thought before he gave a nod and replied, "A ride, eh? I'll give ye a ride. Jus' get yer stuff into the casinor, an' we'll get ye there. Two hundred gold mizas is me price."
The Nuit nodded, dragging his bag into the ship and nodding, "Of course. Let's just get going... I want to go home."
And in truth, he did. Sahova was where he belonged. The ship set sail, the Svefra maneuvering it out into the sea and into Matthew's Bay.
Volanaro kept his bag guarded, a grin materializing upon his features as he formulated a plan in his mind. The desire to reach Sahova had forged an agreement that he by no means intended to keep.
