| | | | | Shiloh | | | | | Other | | | | |
He was supposed to be doing something.
Shiloh's questioning gaze scanned the area before him, the unfamiliar cobbled street extended in several different directions, partitioned into three pathways by the oddly angled buildings spaced at odd intervals. Slowly, Shiloh turned around, inspecting the way he'd come. Again, his sense were met with the novel scene before him, this time only two paths and many more buildings all squished together, more squat and solid than the ones that were now behind him. He let out a little sigh, leaning against a wooden wall that bent slightly against his weight. Glancing back and fourth between the two foreign paths, Shiloh sleepily rubbed chest, soothing out some of his fatigue.
The sounds of bustling city or frivolous enjoyment had faded awhile ago when Shiloh had taken a turn on an whim, landing him in the quite abandoned pathway he now found himself. It happened fairly often what with the city constantly changing its mind about how it wanted to be arranged, so Shiloh tended to use his moments of complete and utter geographic disorientation to relax for a few chimes, gather himself. It was during these peaceful moments the city tended to take him on the most grand of adventures, usually in the form of something impossibly shiny drifting by on the wind or distant mirages that beckoned him to follow. Today, however, there came only a strange, melodic whisper from farther down the rightmost path to his left, the way he'd been facing when he first realized he was lost.
Never one to not investigate, Shiloh pushed himself off of the wall and headed off towards the music. It was a different sort of sound from the many songs he'd heard before, thought not so strange he could not recognize it as some kind of sung melody. The words were incomprehensible, but as he continued down the path, with each turn it became more and more clear they were of a foreign language, beautiful in their mysterious meaning. The actual singing was, if anything, mediocre, but entirely unpleasant. The unknown language certainly helped to make the whole thing that much more enticing. Soon, Shiloh had found he'd picked up his pace, hastening past the twists and turns of the street until he found himself in much more populated plaza.
Immediately, the music mingled with the noise of the crowd, masking the source among the many colorful bodies of people roaming and lounging about the area. It was a fairly small space, nothing compared to some of the more grand gathering places in Alvadas, but it was still large enough to accommodate several dozen people. Slowing to a lazy amble, Shiloh swayed between the shifting bodies around him, his ears turned to the gentle breeze in hopes the song would once more reveal itself. A collection of people had begun clapping, the sort of sound that often followed the completion of an act or performance. Figuring it was a better place to start than none, Shiloh pushed his way over to join in the group that had just finished applauding.
In the middle of the circle of people sat a young man with tanned skin and dark hair with a drum. He seemed fairly ordinary. There was nothing particularly flashy about him as many of the Avaldas performers commonly adorned themselves in, but he did have a sort of air about him that latched itself onto Shiloh's curiosity. It seemed as though the man were going to start up again, and as he did so the strange language once more filled Shiloh's ears. A happy grin broke out over his features at the man began to sing. It was a beautiful language, melodic and alluring. Shiloh found his eyes closing as he swayed back and fourth to the rhythm of the man's music. There was, in the crowd, the general feeling of enjoyment that tended to linger when an act was satisfactory enough. Shiloh shared in it, taking an added measure of pleasure from the man's foreign speech. It was certainly a good day in the city of Alvadas for one Shiloh Walker, though there was still the nagging notion that something had to be done.
The fifty-first day of winter, 513 A.V.
He was supposed to be doing something.
Shiloh's questioning gaze scanned the area before him, the unfamiliar cobbled street extended in several different directions, partitioned into three pathways by the oddly angled buildings spaced at odd intervals. Slowly, Shiloh turned around, inspecting the way he'd come. Again, his sense were met with the novel scene before him, this time only two paths and many more buildings all squished together, more squat and solid than the ones that were now behind him. He let out a little sigh, leaning against a wooden wall that bent slightly against his weight. Glancing back and fourth between the two foreign paths, Shiloh sleepily rubbed chest, soothing out some of his fatigue.
The sounds of bustling city or frivolous enjoyment had faded awhile ago when Shiloh had taken a turn on an whim, landing him in the quite abandoned pathway he now found himself. It happened fairly often what with the city constantly changing its mind about how it wanted to be arranged, so Shiloh tended to use his moments of complete and utter geographic disorientation to relax for a few chimes, gather himself. It was during these peaceful moments the city tended to take him on the most grand of adventures, usually in the form of something impossibly shiny drifting by on the wind or distant mirages that beckoned him to follow. Today, however, there came only a strange, melodic whisper from farther down the rightmost path to his left, the way he'd been facing when he first realized he was lost.
Never one to not investigate, Shiloh pushed himself off of the wall and headed off towards the music. It was a different sort of sound from the many songs he'd heard before, thought not so strange he could not recognize it as some kind of sung melody. The words were incomprehensible, but as he continued down the path, with each turn it became more and more clear they were of a foreign language, beautiful in their mysterious meaning. The actual singing was, if anything, mediocre, but entirely unpleasant. The unknown language certainly helped to make the whole thing that much more enticing. Soon, Shiloh had found he'd picked up his pace, hastening past the twists and turns of the street until he found himself in much more populated plaza.
Immediately, the music mingled with the noise of the crowd, masking the source among the many colorful bodies of people roaming and lounging about the area. It was a fairly small space, nothing compared to some of the more grand gathering places in Alvadas, but it was still large enough to accommodate several dozen people. Slowing to a lazy amble, Shiloh swayed between the shifting bodies around him, his ears turned to the gentle breeze in hopes the song would once more reveal itself. A collection of people had begun clapping, the sort of sound that often followed the completion of an act or performance. Figuring it was a better place to start than none, Shiloh pushed his way over to join in the group that had just finished applauding.
In the middle of the circle of people sat a young man with tanned skin and dark hair with a drum. He seemed fairly ordinary. There was nothing particularly flashy about him as many of the Avaldas performers commonly adorned themselves in, but he did have a sort of air about him that latched itself onto Shiloh's curiosity. It seemed as though the man were going to start up again, and as he did so the strange language once more filled Shiloh's ears. A happy grin broke out over his features at the man began to sing. It was a beautiful language, melodic and alluring. Shiloh found his eyes closing as he swayed back and fourth to the rhythm of the man's music. There was, in the crowd, the general feeling of enjoyment that tended to linger when an act was satisfactory enough. Shiloh shared in it, taking an added measure of pleasure from the man's foreign speech. It was certainly a good day in the city of Alvadas for one Shiloh Walker, though there was still the nagging notion that something had to be done.
