Timestamp: 67th Day of Summer, 514 A.V.
Location: Elysium Hall
It was a cool day, the skies full of drifting mists and the occasional lance of sunlight burning throught for a few blessed minutes before the clouds inevitably closed once again. There were no shadows, either, a product of the unsettled weather that currently had the celestial city in its grip, and whilst thunderstorms grumbled and threatened off in the Misty Peaks, the rattling boom of their lightning tulwars echoing through the valleys, for the moment they were distant and unimportant.
Regardless of the ever-changing skies and the challenges they brought against Lhavit, the city of skyglass and stars stood implacable and serene atop its five peaks, the outlying watchtowers glowing gem-bright.
Atop its small rise on the top tier of Tenten Peak, carefully on the other side from the colossal Dawn Tower, the residence of the Councillor Radiant for Magic and Foreign Affairs glowed, a beacon even amongst the greater radiance of Lhavit. Perhaps that was simply some caprice of the skyglass, or else perhaps Zintila had instructed her priesthood to tune the divine substance just so, but either way Elysium Hall glowed like an earthbound star, splendidly radiant amongst its manicured parkland.
The gilded gates, until recently always open, also glowed in the diffuse light, reflecting warmly onto the skyglass plate of the Shinya guards who now kept a far more careful watch over the approach. Other members of that illustrious order paced along the low wall, too – security had most definitely been tightened as of late.
Inside the elegant mansion, Alses was nervous, pacing like a caged Okomo about her bright and airy morning room, waiting for the knock at the door she knew was coming. It was stupid for her to be nervous, of course; if anything, that was the appropriate feeling for the person she was waiting for, but none of those fine thoughts, none of that rationality helped: she was nervous.
Filled with a fizzing, nebulous energy and powered by a vague worry she'd risen far before the dawn and frittered the time away from then until now, half-completing a dozen tasks, each time abandoning them for something else, entirely unable to settle and get anything productive done.
She'd dressed to impress – although not quite the full peacock that came out when she attended the opera – more for herself than anyone, if she was truthful, and so black opals glimmered at her ears and gold thread shimmered and danced through her silken robes.
Even though she was expecting it, the knock at the front door – booming through the still-austere entrance hall – still took her by surprise, and it was a pair of clammy hands indeed that set themselves against the doorhandles and pulled the heavy doors wide.
Alses' first glimpse of her potential butler was therefore just as he was framed in the doorway, gloved hand still upraised in the act of knocking.
He was a tall man – although, to Alses, most people were tall – and respectably portly, a rarity in the post-Valterrian world, the excellent cut of his clothes and their dark hue helping to minimise his bulk. He was pale, too, like most Lhavitians, and his eyes – like chips of sapphire – stood out starkly beneath the arch of his eyebrows. His hair was a dark and lustrous black, but it was beginning to be flecked with grey, especially at his temples, giving him the look that Alses had occasionally heard described as 'distinguished'.
His lips were rich and full, and they widened into a calm smile as he, for his part, drank her in. “I daresay I have the pleasure of addressing the Lady Alses? My name is Silver, m'lady. Maximilian Silver, at your service.”
In truth, Alses wasn't paying all that much attention to his physical form; the feel of someone on her auristics, the glitter and shimmy of their soul in the world, that was of far greater immediacy and more immediate import to her. Someone who grated on her senses wouldn't be a good fit for the position, no matter how well-qualified they were; constant and low-grade irritation would only result in arguments and dismissal. Alses knew herself well enough, at least, to see that for a self-evident truth.
Mr. Silver was a soothing light purple, to Alses' senses, his aura like a still lake – no, a placid river, she amended as her power enveloped him in an invisible cocoon, drinking in everything about him and letting her see the gentle currents and banked power in the curling tendrils and the broader wash of energy that radiated off the bright core of his soul, steady and predictable waves that spoke of stability and adaptability. He was water to her Sight, cool and quiet, flowing around obstacles, always yielding and yet managing to break down even the greatest of barriers, given time.
“The pleasure is ours,” Alses returned, taking a half-step back, inviting him inside. Even she knew it was rude to keep people – prospective employees no matter – waiting on the doorstep.
He shimmered over the doorstep, looking around with a discreet professional's eye, noting the generous proportions and the elegance of the architecture on display; no-one had skimped on Elysium Hall. Indeed, had they attempted to do so, it was entirely likely that they'd have had an angry Zintila as well as Alses to contend with, and that was something no sane Constellation priest, or even sane citizen, wanted.
“If you'll follow us, Mr. Silver,” she continued, turning quickly and leading the way into the heart of the house, through the echoing hallways and into the much more homely, much more lived-in library, with its ranks of leatherbound books, its fadeong shelves and ornate caryatids, its papers and its ink-stands and all the paraphernalia of academia.
Alses unerringly led the way up to the second floor, slipping with the ease of long practice into one of the alcoves that now held a large desk piled reasonably high with papers. Settling herself behind its bulk, she gestured for the man to take the seat opposite, the pair of them taking just a little time to get comfortable before the meat of the interview began.
Location: Elysium Hall
It was a cool day, the skies full of drifting mists and the occasional lance of sunlight burning throught for a few blessed minutes before the clouds inevitably closed once again. There were no shadows, either, a product of the unsettled weather that currently had the celestial city in its grip, and whilst thunderstorms grumbled and threatened off in the Misty Peaks, the rattling boom of their lightning tulwars echoing through the valleys, for the moment they were distant and unimportant.
Regardless of the ever-changing skies and the challenges they brought against Lhavit, the city of skyglass and stars stood implacable and serene atop its five peaks, the outlying watchtowers glowing gem-bright.
Atop its small rise on the top tier of Tenten Peak, carefully on the other side from the colossal Dawn Tower, the residence of the Councillor Radiant for Magic and Foreign Affairs glowed, a beacon even amongst the greater radiance of Lhavit. Perhaps that was simply some caprice of the skyglass, or else perhaps Zintila had instructed her priesthood to tune the divine substance just so, but either way Elysium Hall glowed like an earthbound star, splendidly radiant amongst its manicured parkland.
The gilded gates, until recently always open, also glowed in the diffuse light, reflecting warmly onto the skyglass plate of the Shinya guards who now kept a far more careful watch over the approach. Other members of that illustrious order paced along the low wall, too – security had most definitely been tightened as of late.
Inside the elegant mansion, Alses was nervous, pacing like a caged Okomo about her bright and airy morning room, waiting for the knock at the door she knew was coming. It was stupid for her to be nervous, of course; if anything, that was the appropriate feeling for the person she was waiting for, but none of those fine thoughts, none of that rationality helped: she was nervous.
Filled with a fizzing, nebulous energy and powered by a vague worry she'd risen far before the dawn and frittered the time away from then until now, half-completing a dozen tasks, each time abandoning them for something else, entirely unable to settle and get anything productive done.
She'd dressed to impress – although not quite the full peacock that came out when she attended the opera – more for herself than anyone, if she was truthful, and so black opals glimmered at her ears and gold thread shimmered and danced through her silken robes.
Even though she was expecting it, the knock at the front door – booming through the still-austere entrance hall – still took her by surprise, and it was a pair of clammy hands indeed that set themselves against the doorhandles and pulled the heavy doors wide.
Alses' first glimpse of her potential butler was therefore just as he was framed in the doorway, gloved hand still upraised in the act of knocking.
He was a tall man – although, to Alses, most people were tall – and respectably portly, a rarity in the post-Valterrian world, the excellent cut of his clothes and their dark hue helping to minimise his bulk. He was pale, too, like most Lhavitians, and his eyes – like chips of sapphire – stood out starkly beneath the arch of his eyebrows. His hair was a dark and lustrous black, but it was beginning to be flecked with grey, especially at his temples, giving him the look that Alses had occasionally heard described as 'distinguished'.
His lips were rich and full, and they widened into a calm smile as he, for his part, drank her in. “I daresay I have the pleasure of addressing the Lady Alses? My name is Silver, m'lady. Maximilian Silver, at your service.”
In truth, Alses wasn't paying all that much attention to his physical form; the feel of someone on her auristics, the glitter and shimmy of their soul in the world, that was of far greater immediacy and more immediate import to her. Someone who grated on her senses wouldn't be a good fit for the position, no matter how well-qualified they were; constant and low-grade irritation would only result in arguments and dismissal. Alses knew herself well enough, at least, to see that for a self-evident truth.
Mr. Silver was a soothing light purple, to Alses' senses, his aura like a still lake – no, a placid river, she amended as her power enveloped him in an invisible cocoon, drinking in everything about him and letting her see the gentle currents and banked power in the curling tendrils and the broader wash of energy that radiated off the bright core of his soul, steady and predictable waves that spoke of stability and adaptability. He was water to her Sight, cool and quiet, flowing around obstacles, always yielding and yet managing to break down even the greatest of barriers, given time.
“The pleasure is ours,” Alses returned, taking a half-step back, inviting him inside. Even she knew it was rude to keep people – prospective employees no matter – waiting on the doorstep.
He shimmered over the doorstep, looking around with a discreet professional's eye, noting the generous proportions and the elegance of the architecture on display; no-one had skimped on Elysium Hall. Indeed, had they attempted to do so, it was entirely likely that they'd have had an angry Zintila as well as Alses to contend with, and that was something no sane Constellation priest, or even sane citizen, wanted.
“If you'll follow us, Mr. Silver,” she continued, turning quickly and leading the way into the heart of the house, through the echoing hallways and into the much more homely, much more lived-in library, with its ranks of leatherbound books, its fadeong shelves and ornate caryatids, its papers and its ink-stands and all the paraphernalia of academia.
Alses unerringly led the way up to the second floor, slipping with the ease of long practice into one of the alcoves that now held a large desk piled reasonably high with papers. Settling herself behind its bulk, she gestured for the man to take the seat opposite, the pair of them taking just a little time to get comfortable before the meat of the interview began.
