Winter 60, 511 AV
Most of the time Veldrys was perfectly content to spend his days in the Chapel, praying or listening to others pray or treat the occasional sick or wounded person, but sometimes even a doctor and follower of Viratas needed to take a break from his job. Sometimes even he sought the company of other people, to listen to their often pointless chatter and pretend that he was a part of their small community, even though he would never be completely like them. They had accepted him – for the most part – but in the end they would always be human, and he would always be one of them, one of those venomous Symenestra, too pale, too slender to be every mistaken for one of them, with eyes the color of amethyst and clothes made of fine silk.
His dinner that day would probably seem strange to most that passed by his table, but it was a typical Symenestra meal. Since there was nobody in this city that could or was willing to make a decent Bruka – the main ingredient of which was blood, a circumstance that humans always found a little off-putting for some reason – he had settled for the next best thing. A plate filled with soft, sweet fruit was standing in front of him, and next to it was a glass filled with juice. Alcohol seemed to be fairly popular among the patrons of the Stranger’s Welcome, but Veldrys needed his mental faculties intact. He had no interest in the dizziness or the strange behaviour people often exhibited when they had had too much to drink.
He sat alone, as always. Even though most people tolerated his presence and some had even become something like friends, it had just never occured to him that he could join one of the Denvali at their table and talk to them. For as long as he could think, Veldrys had always been the one watching the others, studying them, taking notes of all their weird little habits, such as the fact that Oleg seemed to tell everybody that stayed long enough the story of his one-eyed cousin Olga.
Most of the time Veldrys was perfectly content to spend his days in the Chapel, praying or listening to others pray or treat the occasional sick or wounded person, but sometimes even a doctor and follower of Viratas needed to take a break from his job. Sometimes even he sought the company of other people, to listen to their often pointless chatter and pretend that he was a part of their small community, even though he would never be completely like them. They had accepted him – for the most part – but in the end they would always be human, and he would always be one of them, one of those venomous Symenestra, too pale, too slender to be every mistaken for one of them, with eyes the color of amethyst and clothes made of fine silk.
His dinner that day would probably seem strange to most that passed by his table, but it was a typical Symenestra meal. Since there was nobody in this city that could or was willing to make a decent Bruka – the main ingredient of which was blood, a circumstance that humans always found a little off-putting for some reason – he had settled for the next best thing. A plate filled with soft, sweet fruit was standing in front of him, and next to it was a glass filled with juice. Alcohol seemed to be fairly popular among the patrons of the Stranger’s Welcome, but Veldrys needed his mental faculties intact. He had no interest in the dizziness or the strange behaviour people often exhibited when they had had too much to drink.
He sat alone, as always. Even though most people tolerated his presence and some had even become something like friends, it had just never occured to him that he could join one of the Denvali at their table and talk to them. For as long as he could think, Veldrys had always been the one watching the others, studying them, taking notes of all their weird little habits, such as the fact that Oleg seemed to tell everybody that stayed long enough the story of his one-eyed cousin Olga.
