Blood of Ink (solo)

[Rian Vale]

91-2 Winter 511 A.V. Rian's residence, the streets of Alvadas The afternoon had been quiet; peaceful, really. Alvadas in all its illusions had yet to spout out anything of the extremely unusual at Rian. Still, he felt sluggish, depressed, pressured. With a deep breath he let the djed flow from his core into his eyes, and he spied on the auras all around him. He was looking for something. There was a sense of lacking in fulfillment, unfinished business, call it what you wish. He could feel his strength leaving him. Even the magic of auras had becoming taxing on him again. His life he had used it, and now was at decay! It was blasphemous! Immortal spirit… He had gone out for a walk that day. There wasn’t much to do besides walk the streets and to let them entertain you. Brawling, studies, none of that appealed as much as it did. The city’s charm however always brought that light grin to his face. It had been this day though that not even Alvadas could bring much amusement to his spirit. He was compelled to the streets as per usual, some few gold mizas on hand, and his sword, and his waning pride. He was in search of that something to give him completion, absolution for the day, yes… Then he came to a stand, purchased himself a journal and some vials of ink in excess. He caught the eye of some fine pointed quill and asked for it as well, made his purchase and began walking again. He tried making his way just back him, but the sun had not quite set yet. He enjoyed the sunsets in Alvadas too. From this point on the edge of the city, one could overlook the entire Suvan Sea. Squinting he even swore he saw Syliras from the coast, the merchant boats unloading in the docks. Too far, old man, too far… The sun was some degrees from the horizon, and he stopped to observe its change from day to night. Good night beautiful Syna, and welcome back handsome Leth. Your glows do not compare. Rian found what seemed to be a bench, a stone bench or a step. It looked over the open docks and sea before him. The street was nice and wide for that entire view, one-hundred eighty degrees in front of him. He set the purchase beside him and turned his sword back to lay on the step as well. His back was straight, and his eyes steady. They were steadily fixed upon the falling sun. The sun, now red and orange, the sky glimmering with purples and pinks and fading blues. He just sat there watching, and thinking.