[Priskil's Spire] The Woven Light (Vazka)

Talya encounters Vazka at Priskil's spire.

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

[Priskil's Spire] The Woven Light (Vazka)

Postby Talya on September 2nd, 2015, 6:57 pm

Timestamp: Fall 5, 515 AV

Its body towered over her; she could see it, almost as much as the shadow it cast, which was crawling over the length of her nose. It was the tallest building within the Old Quarter, (or at least, it looked to be the tallest, especially right now). It smelled of nothing but the smoothness of stone, a scent she supposed was magnified now that the sun was climbing higher and higher within the sky. Warming those on the same side as she, as well as her skin. Illuminating the white blocks, so that they shone as though they were pearls, or perhaps opals, with the sun's gold tints glistening against their surface. She pressed her right palm against the side of the spire, letting the stones warm her skin. She closed her eyes and smiled, as she let the heat radiate through her, and she began to wonder what the draw to Priskil was. The goddess who this spire was dedicated too. The sound of doves within; cooing softly, reaching her ears as the wind arose from the bay, and swept inland, lifting her hair from her shoulders before setting it back down. "Why do people love you so?" Talya whispered as she opened her eyes, and looked up at the little inlets within the buildings, which formed its windows way up high.

Talya blinked as she stepped away, pulling her palm off the side of the building. It returned to its proper place beside her hip, as she sat down in the grass, and let the wind flow around her, carrying the unmistakable, salty scent of the bay along with it. She smiled weakly, she was growing accustomed to it, she realized, as folded her body into the half lotus position, and set her arms, palms facing up, on each of her legs. She felt the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she waited, staring into the purity of the spire's stone; the starkness of the white. Slowly, her eyes developed a far off appearance, as she entered a sort of trance. She felt the beating of her heart; the tones echoing hollowly within her ears, ever so softly, as she breathed in again through the nose, and out through the mouth with a sigh, forcing herself to take a deeper breath than she had previously. When she let it back out, a few moments later, when her lungs began to ache with the draw, she forced herself to take another one, and then another. Slowly, her mind began to slip away. She began to think about what Priskil must be like. Or what others, those outside the sphere of Ravok and it's influence, must have viewed her as.

For whatever reason, the goddess seemed to cross with Syna; there domains intertwining, and for a moment, Talya idly wondered if this had anything to do with what little she knew of the nature of Priskil's given gnosis mark. She saw the world as bright. Brighter than the sun. It wasn't quite yellow, and it wasn't quite white, but a mixture of the two; something in between, although it registered as both colors, at the same time. Something she found peculiar, although she forced herself to think nothing further of it. Despite the brightness of the color, it didn't hurt to look around. It didn't bother her to keep her eyes open and truly see. It didn't blind her; she wasn't forced to avert her gaze from the harshness of it; for there was nothing harsh about it, instead, the plane seemed soft and inviting, and so very, very empty. There was nothing within sight, and when the Ethaefal looked down, she couldn't even see herself within it, as she took another deep breath in through her nose, and out through her mouth, as she slipped even more deeply into the depths of her meditative exercise. She could feel her chest rise and fall more heavily, but not in a way that indicated the shallowness of breath.

Talya felt light, she felt at peace, and she couldn't help but smile radiantly. She was enjoying this period of meditation thoroughly. But she knew, also, that she could not for long, as there were so many questions she had meant to ask.
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Darkness Becoming
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