Timestamp: 45th Day of Spring, 513 A.V.
A fine early spring day in Lhavit, with the kariino trees in full, joyous bloom. Pink petals swirled in the mountain breezes, dancing playfully between the soaring spires of the city whilst the celestial skyglass glowed serenely under Syna's forgiving light.
All in all, a very pleasant day to be up and about in the Diamond of Kalea – for most people, that is. Not so much for Alses, however, hotfooting it down the broad avenues and sparing nary a glance for the floral magnificence burgeoning all around, hurrying through the courtyards and boulevards at a breakneck pace, not pausing to acknowledge the greetings and bows from the citizens in her path.
In one hand, she clutched a piece of thick, creamy paper, the source of most of her current troubles as she went flying across the arcing skyglass spans to the Zintia, making a beeline for an appointed meeting she'd only just managed to work out the time and location for.
'Damn you, Chiona Dusk,' was the predominant thought cycling again and again around her head as her feet hammered out toccata and fugue on the theme of 'rushing' against the shining skyglass flags.
A -Several Days Earlier- A
Alses and Mr. Secretary were engaged in a lengthy wrangle over the number of boxes versus letters she was being required to carry as of late. There were good points of contention on both sides, from the jewel-toned bruises that rarely had a chance to fade on Alses' back – and hadn't Mr. Secretary's face turned an interesting colour when she'd showed him? - to the fact that Mr. Secretary paid her wages and was the organ of the Powers that Be of the Dusk Tower, on whose munificence and grace Alses' own tutelage depended.
Mostly, their argument was for the sake of form and, at least in Alses' case, a form of prevarication. Mr. Secretary surely knew this, but he seemed to positively relish the occasional debate – Alses had found once a season was about the right level of frequency.
This time, she'd achieved a truly satisfying victory, although in truth it was mostly due to taking advantage of being the one to actually initiate the debate. She'd not bothered using Tanroa's Blessing for several days beforehand, and it had resulted in some spectacular bruises wrapping most of her lower back which had swung the argument in her favour this time. Mr. Secretary was a wily employer, however – he'd granted her victory and the prize that went with it – a lessening of boxes in favour of envelopes for a little while - but had remarked, eyes twinkling, that he'd be on-guard for that particular trick in the future.
It was as she was turning to head out and conclude the business of couriering that Mr. Secretary called her back, pawing through the orderly stacks of paper that colonised his desk on a regular basis. “Oh, and there was a message for you...can't believe I forgot it...” he riffled fruitlessly for another moment and then sprang up like a jack-in-the-box and strode over to one of the many cabinets which lined his office walls, rummaging there for a brief moment before a triumphal “Ah-HA!” signalled the fruition of his search.
He turned to her, brandishing a small envelope of thick, creamy paper with a rich purple seal affixed and powered across the marble to press it into her hands.
With wondering fingers – and a letter-opener commandeered from Mr. Secretary's desk – she slit it open and consulted the message.
Or rather, the lack of it; the envelope had contained only a blank sheet of paper. She peered inside, just to make sure – no, nothing there – then looked at the envelope itself again. The name was correct, written in a flowing hand, and the seal-
“Whose is this?” Alses asked, proferring it back to the dapper man. He squinted through his monocle for a split-second before handing it back.
“Lady Dusk, of course. The Patriarch's heir. She's written to you?”
“Not exactly,” Alses replied with a frown, turning the blank paper over and over in her hands. “It's blank; do you think I've got this by mistake? Or perhaps she didn't start writing...”
“And put it in an envelope, wrote your name on the outside and sealed it? Lady Dusk is many things, but 'stupid' isn't one of them.”
Alses sighed hugely, couriering forgotten. “So why in Syna's name has her ladyship sent me a blank sheet of paper?”
Mr. Secretary steepled his hands and cast his eyes skywards, considering. “Lady Dusk has a sense of humour,” he replied, eventually. “That paper might be more than it appears – although I confess I'm at a loss as to how that could be. I wouldn't throw it away out of hand, though, if I was you.”
Alses gave him a wry smile and inclined her head, crown-of-horns catching the light and flashing to coruscant brilliance. “Advice noted, Mr. Secretary. And now...to business.”
A
Some time later, Alses finished her rounds and was able to consider Chiona's non-message at her leisure, comfortably ensconced in her chair back at the Respite and rocking back in it, staring pensively at the blank, expensive sheet of paper resting on her desk.
“So,” she announced, to the silent room at large, more as a way to order her thoughts than anything else. Bloodred sunshine lanced in through the windows, turning her horns into crimson spires of painful light, as she contemplated. “A message that is no message.” The sound of her mellifluous voice was swallowed up, drunk down and deadened in short order by the hungry, parched silence.
“Or at least...no obvious message,” she added, the sucking quiet drawing it out of her thoughts. 'She is a member of House Dusk, after all,' Alses reminded herself, and members of that House were notorious for their love affair with puzzles.
Fortunately, her room was conducive to relaxation, and it was so familiar to her that only the merest mental flash of focus and exclusion was needed to see them fade from her senses, wrapped in whip-thin strands of inverted djed, a filter of sorts through which the rest of her magic and her impressions sluiced.
She tasted wood on her tongue, the pillow-soft tickles of feathers dancing across her face – but only for an instant, before their shimmering, intangible auras twinkled and faded from her perception, leaving just the papery auristic expression of the missive – tinged with the greasy bitterness of wax coating her tongue (which wasn't pleasant) from the discarded envelope nearby, just in case the message was written in some fashion there.
'So, what hidden mysteries has Lady Dusk left for me?' Alses wondered, tasting, feeling, smelling, seeing every facet of the shimmering paperwork.
A fine early spring day in Lhavit, with the kariino trees in full, joyous bloom. Pink petals swirled in the mountain breezes, dancing playfully between the soaring spires of the city whilst the celestial skyglass glowed serenely under Syna's forgiving light.
All in all, a very pleasant day to be up and about in the Diamond of Kalea – for most people, that is. Not so much for Alses, however, hotfooting it down the broad avenues and sparing nary a glance for the floral magnificence burgeoning all around, hurrying through the courtyards and boulevards at a breakneck pace, not pausing to acknowledge the greetings and bows from the citizens in her path.
In one hand, she clutched a piece of thick, creamy paper, the source of most of her current troubles as she went flying across the arcing skyglass spans to the Zintia, making a beeline for an appointed meeting she'd only just managed to work out the time and location for.
'Damn you, Chiona Dusk,' was the predominant thought cycling again and again around her head as her feet hammered out toccata and fugue on the theme of 'rushing' against the shining skyglass flags.
A -Several Days Earlier- A
Alses and Mr. Secretary were engaged in a lengthy wrangle over the number of boxes versus letters she was being required to carry as of late. There were good points of contention on both sides, from the jewel-toned bruises that rarely had a chance to fade on Alses' back – and hadn't Mr. Secretary's face turned an interesting colour when she'd showed him? - to the fact that Mr. Secretary paid her wages and was the organ of the Powers that Be of the Dusk Tower, on whose munificence and grace Alses' own tutelage depended.
Mostly, their argument was for the sake of form and, at least in Alses' case, a form of prevarication. Mr. Secretary surely knew this, but he seemed to positively relish the occasional debate – Alses had found once a season was about the right level of frequency.
This time, she'd achieved a truly satisfying victory, although in truth it was mostly due to taking advantage of being the one to actually initiate the debate. She'd not bothered using Tanroa's Blessing for several days beforehand, and it had resulted in some spectacular bruises wrapping most of her lower back which had swung the argument in her favour this time. Mr. Secretary was a wily employer, however – he'd granted her victory and the prize that went with it – a lessening of boxes in favour of envelopes for a little while - but had remarked, eyes twinkling, that he'd be on-guard for that particular trick in the future.
It was as she was turning to head out and conclude the business of couriering that Mr. Secretary called her back, pawing through the orderly stacks of paper that colonised his desk on a regular basis. “Oh, and there was a message for you...can't believe I forgot it...” he riffled fruitlessly for another moment and then sprang up like a jack-in-the-box and strode over to one of the many cabinets which lined his office walls, rummaging there for a brief moment before a triumphal “Ah-HA!” signalled the fruition of his search.
He turned to her, brandishing a small envelope of thick, creamy paper with a rich purple seal affixed and powered across the marble to press it into her hands.
With wondering fingers – and a letter-opener commandeered from Mr. Secretary's desk – she slit it open and consulted the message.
Or rather, the lack of it; the envelope had contained only a blank sheet of paper. She peered inside, just to make sure – no, nothing there – then looked at the envelope itself again. The name was correct, written in a flowing hand, and the seal-
“Whose is this?” Alses asked, proferring it back to the dapper man. He squinted through his monocle for a split-second before handing it back.
“Lady Dusk, of course. The Patriarch's heir. She's written to you?”
“Not exactly,” Alses replied with a frown, turning the blank paper over and over in her hands. “It's blank; do you think I've got this by mistake? Or perhaps she didn't start writing...”
“And put it in an envelope, wrote your name on the outside and sealed it? Lady Dusk is many things, but 'stupid' isn't one of them.”
Alses sighed hugely, couriering forgotten. “So why in Syna's name has her ladyship sent me a blank sheet of paper?”
Mr. Secretary steepled his hands and cast his eyes skywards, considering. “Lady Dusk has a sense of humour,” he replied, eventually. “That paper might be more than it appears – although I confess I'm at a loss as to how that could be. I wouldn't throw it away out of hand, though, if I was you.”
Alses gave him a wry smile and inclined her head, crown-of-horns catching the light and flashing to coruscant brilliance. “Advice noted, Mr. Secretary. And now...to business.”
A
Some time later, Alses finished her rounds and was able to consider Chiona's non-message at her leisure, comfortably ensconced in her chair back at the Respite and rocking back in it, staring pensively at the blank, expensive sheet of paper resting on her desk.
“So,” she announced, to the silent room at large, more as a way to order her thoughts than anything else. Bloodred sunshine lanced in through the windows, turning her horns into crimson spires of painful light, as she contemplated. “A message that is no message.” The sound of her mellifluous voice was swallowed up, drunk down and deadened in short order by the hungry, parched silence.
“Or at least...no obvious message,” she added, the sucking quiet drawing it out of her thoughts. 'She is a member of House Dusk, after all,' Alses reminded herself, and members of that House were notorious for their love affair with puzzles.
Fortunately, her room was conducive to relaxation, and it was so familiar to her that only the merest mental flash of focus and exclusion was needed to see them fade from her senses, wrapped in whip-thin strands of inverted djed, a filter of sorts through which the rest of her magic and her impressions sluiced.
She tasted wood on her tongue, the pillow-soft tickles of feathers dancing across her face – but only for an instant, before their shimmering, intangible auras twinkled and faded from her perception, leaving just the papery auristic expression of the missive – tinged with the greasy bitterness of wax coating her tongue (which wasn't pleasant) from the discarded envelope nearby, just in case the message was written in some fashion there.
'So, what hidden mysteries has Lady Dusk left for me?' Alses wondered, tasting, feeling, smelling, seeing every facet of the shimmering paperwork.