Timestamp: 26th Day of Spring, 516 A.V.
Location: Elysium Hall
Alses woke lazily, and luxuriated in the feeling of doing nothing. A creature of sunlight and activity for much of the time, nonetheless there were moments when she relished a little peace and solitude. Like now, for instance, swathed in duvet and blanket, head propped on a forest of downy pillows, the curtains of her four-poster drawn tight.
It was dark and it was warm, a little cocoon against the brighter, colder world outside, and so she languidly revelled in it, snuggling down further amongst the pillows and sheets. It couldn’t last for long, of course; the natural energy of her daytime state would set muscle against bone and get her moving soon enough, and outside the soft walls of her cocoon she could hear the fire being laid in the hearth. Soon, the air would be filled with the crackle and pop of well-dried wood burning, throwing out welcome heat to supplement the gentle glow of the skyglass, but for now…
She burrowed down further, eyes sliding closed once more.
Even supremely comfortable as she was, however, it simply would not last; there were things to be done, and, whilst a part of her might have liked to simply stay and luxuriate, the rest of her knew that she had to be up and doing. With this resonating in her bones, Syna’s irrepressible call to energy and light and life that drove a billion tons of sap skyward at the beginning of every day, she sat up and pushed back the heavy drapes, letting the sunlight spill in with a wave of colder air that caused her exposed skin to break into a delicious wave of goosepimples.
The sunlight glinted and glimmered as it flooded her bedroom; the inside of Alses’ boudoir sparkled and shimmered with a hundred hues of richness, glowing from the mahogany furniture, gleaming from the gold and brass and fracturing into a thousand prismatic hues in the crystal glass. Her tastes had always run to the baroque, and in her home she had given the indulgence of those tastes full rein. Where anyone else might have been overwhelmed by the ornate magnificence all around, Synaborn Alses still managed to be the centrepiece, supported rather than overwhelmed by the décor.
There was a cheery fire now crackling in the grate, filling the air with the scent of Lhavitian cedarwood as it burned and, unselfconsciously naked and glittering in the morning light flooding in, Alses stretched luxuriously.
She padded through the corridors of Elysium Hall, her footsteps swift and sure even as her mind wandered, getting up to speed and planning what needed to be done that day, on her way to the other sanctuary of the morning: the baths. As she descended the gently-curving flight that led down to the hot pools that the artifice of Lucis and Lucis had tamed and brought to the surface for her, an anticipatory smile curved her lips. It was the simple pleasures in life that kept her sane on the mudball that was Mizahar
The bathing rooms were all adrift with gentle billows of steam uncurling lazily from the darkly-glimmering surface of the water as it lapped against marble and skyglass. The columns – Ethaefal caryatids, a conceit of the architect that Alses secretly rather liked – spread their diffuse glow throughout the humid, steam-wreathed chambers, the dim light softening hard edges and playing tricks with distance and perspective.
Alses slid gratefully into the warm, mineral-rich embrace of the water, letting a long sigh breathe out from her lungs. Many people advocated cold water, or showers, or a vigorous flannelling down, or any number of other odd ablutory arrangements as a way of waking up in the morning. Alses, by contrast, preferred her baths, a last bulwark against the day before the real work began.
Location: Elysium Hall
Alses woke lazily, and luxuriated in the feeling of doing nothing. A creature of sunlight and activity for much of the time, nonetheless there were moments when she relished a little peace and solitude. Like now, for instance, swathed in duvet and blanket, head propped on a forest of downy pillows, the curtains of her four-poster drawn tight.
It was dark and it was warm, a little cocoon against the brighter, colder world outside, and so she languidly revelled in it, snuggling down further amongst the pillows and sheets. It couldn’t last for long, of course; the natural energy of her daytime state would set muscle against bone and get her moving soon enough, and outside the soft walls of her cocoon she could hear the fire being laid in the hearth. Soon, the air would be filled with the crackle and pop of well-dried wood burning, throwing out welcome heat to supplement the gentle glow of the skyglass, but for now…
She burrowed down further, eyes sliding closed once more.
Even supremely comfortable as she was, however, it simply would not last; there were things to be done, and, whilst a part of her might have liked to simply stay and luxuriate, the rest of her knew that she had to be up and doing. With this resonating in her bones, Syna’s irrepressible call to energy and light and life that drove a billion tons of sap skyward at the beginning of every day, she sat up and pushed back the heavy drapes, letting the sunlight spill in with a wave of colder air that caused her exposed skin to break into a delicious wave of goosepimples.
The sunlight glinted and glimmered as it flooded her bedroom; the inside of Alses’ boudoir sparkled and shimmered with a hundred hues of richness, glowing from the mahogany furniture, gleaming from the gold and brass and fracturing into a thousand prismatic hues in the crystal glass. Her tastes had always run to the baroque, and in her home she had given the indulgence of those tastes full rein. Where anyone else might have been overwhelmed by the ornate magnificence all around, Synaborn Alses still managed to be the centrepiece, supported rather than overwhelmed by the décor.
There was a cheery fire now crackling in the grate, filling the air with the scent of Lhavitian cedarwood as it burned and, unselfconsciously naked and glittering in the morning light flooding in, Alses stretched luxuriously.
She padded through the corridors of Elysium Hall, her footsteps swift and sure even as her mind wandered, getting up to speed and planning what needed to be done that day, on her way to the other sanctuary of the morning: the baths. As she descended the gently-curving flight that led down to the hot pools that the artifice of Lucis and Lucis had tamed and brought to the surface for her, an anticipatory smile curved her lips. It was the simple pleasures in life that kept her sane on the mudball that was Mizahar
The bathing rooms were all adrift with gentle billows of steam uncurling lazily from the darkly-glimmering surface of the water as it lapped against marble and skyglass. The columns – Ethaefal caryatids, a conceit of the architect that Alses secretly rather liked – spread their diffuse glow throughout the humid, steam-wreathed chambers, the dim light softening hard edges and playing tricks with distance and perspective.
Alses slid gratefully into the warm, mineral-rich embrace of the water, letting a long sigh breathe out from her lungs. Many people advocated cold water, or showers, or a vigorous flannelling down, or any number of other odd ablutory arrangements as a way of waking up in the morning. Alses, by contrast, preferred her baths, a last bulwark against the day before the real work began.