91st of Fall, 516 AV
Dusk
Dusk
Something had changed in the city of illusions. Something Aislyn had noticed since the beginning of the season, but hadn’t truly thought hard about until the entire season had withered away. Albeit, something had changed nearly every season in the city of illusions, but this was a specific change. A change that had a distinct air of moving on.
Once upon a time, Aislyn had thought the events of the Door had been left where they had started, in the winter season.
Evidently, she had been wrong.
Deep down the illusionist had known full well that there was no way Alvadas would rejuvenate so quickly, given the longevity of the warning signs that had appeared prior to the winter apocalypse. Seasons before anything dead actually began rising, Alvadas had known what was to come. And seasons after, it had still showed signs of what had occurred. There was no official address of what had gone on, no explanation. Just assumptions and rumors. In the spring, there was quiet, an almost air of rushed silence that had stiffled any sort of rumour from really growing into anything more than what it was- a rumor.
But once the spring had faded into summer, Alvadas spoke loudly, as if the tape had been ripped off the mouth of those forced into silence.
Aislyn had always been one to take long walks about the city. ‘Maya’ was quite the one to go unnoticed in a crowd above the streets, and ‘Thief’ was at home beneath the city, in the darker whispers of the Underground. Both sides of the Alvad coin had spoken the same story every day of the summer. Betrayal. Backstabbing. Attacks. Mistreatment. Confusion. Blame, most on the immigrants, some on the Speaker, a few on Ionu themselves. And just like the rumours, the summer streets had often ended in dead ends. Abrupt and unexplained. Just like everything else that season. It was frustrating. No matter how hard the artist had looked, she held no power. No magic, no connections, not a speaker, not a listener, not a clue as to what was going on. Then fall had dawned, and once again Aislyn found her questions unanswered. But ‘unanswered’ held a different connotation now.
‘Unanswered’ had been chaotic, frustrating; confusing. Now it was peaceful, like the city had laid its dead to rest and moved on with the living. And as the city moved on, the civilians moved on too. Even when the calm ended, every event of the fall seemed joyfully chaotic. The Alvads were in on the joke this time, and were laughing away the nights with the city right beside them.
Yet the whole thing felt like Aislyn was watching through forty feet of glass.
Her curiosity had manifested itself in the form of vexation- not only at life but at Alvadas, her fellow Alvads, and occasionally Ionu, too. Three seasons later and she knew nothing, despite her best efforts. She grew resentful. Unsatisfied. And as with whenever Aislyn found herself unsatisfied, she visited the Temple of Ionu. The day was for Ionu. Not for her art, nor her worries, nor her obsession with the unknown, but for Ionu.
On her escapade to the temple, Aislyn carried very little with her. All she had was a book she had earlier purchased from the bazaar in the hopes of finding something to distract herself with should she receive no relief in her troubles from Ionu. The contents didn’t particularly matter, all that mattered was that it had some sort of basic entertainment value Aislyn could take something from. The only reason the specific book had caught her eye was because of the bright red string that kept it sealed. A string that was now being weaved incessantly between the woman’s fingers.
It had become a hobby, of sorts. Carrying about a bit of string to wind between her fingers as she walked, just as something to do. She had done such a thing when she was younger, mainly while Thief as something to do with the ribbons that Maya often wore, since no visual trait between the two personas could be too similar, after all. But the tick had reemerged lately, most likely due to how much stress was involved in everyday life. Paranoia, suspicion, the whole nine yards of a shoddy mental landscape. The emersion also probably had something to do with the fact that Aislyn no longer had enough hair to tie back in a ribbon, and she had only just cleaned up her abode well enough to find the dusty box filled with scraps fabric and string now purposeless. Of course, this was not one of her ribbons, but that just made it all the better to fiddle with.
It was unfamiliar, and that made it interesting.
If only every situation could be approached with that sort of thinking.
Once upon a time, Aislyn had thought the events of the Door had been left where they had started, in the winter season.
Evidently, she had been wrong.
Deep down the illusionist had known full well that there was no way Alvadas would rejuvenate so quickly, given the longevity of the warning signs that had appeared prior to the winter apocalypse. Seasons before anything dead actually began rising, Alvadas had known what was to come. And seasons after, it had still showed signs of what had occurred. There was no official address of what had gone on, no explanation. Just assumptions and rumors. In the spring, there was quiet, an almost air of rushed silence that had stiffled any sort of rumour from really growing into anything more than what it was- a rumor.
But once the spring had faded into summer, Alvadas spoke loudly, as if the tape had been ripped off the mouth of those forced into silence.
Aislyn had always been one to take long walks about the city. ‘Maya’ was quite the one to go unnoticed in a crowd above the streets, and ‘Thief’ was at home beneath the city, in the darker whispers of the Underground. Both sides of the Alvad coin had spoken the same story every day of the summer. Betrayal. Backstabbing. Attacks. Mistreatment. Confusion. Blame, most on the immigrants, some on the Speaker, a few on Ionu themselves. And just like the rumours, the summer streets had often ended in dead ends. Abrupt and unexplained. Just like everything else that season. It was frustrating. No matter how hard the artist had looked, she held no power. No magic, no connections, not a speaker, not a listener, not a clue as to what was going on. Then fall had dawned, and once again Aislyn found her questions unanswered. But ‘unanswered’ held a different connotation now.
‘Unanswered’ had been chaotic, frustrating; confusing. Now it was peaceful, like the city had laid its dead to rest and moved on with the living. And as the city moved on, the civilians moved on too. Even when the calm ended, every event of the fall seemed joyfully chaotic. The Alvads were in on the joke this time, and were laughing away the nights with the city right beside them.
Yet the whole thing felt like Aislyn was watching through forty feet of glass.
Her curiosity had manifested itself in the form of vexation- not only at life but at Alvadas, her fellow Alvads, and occasionally Ionu, too. Three seasons later and she knew nothing, despite her best efforts. She grew resentful. Unsatisfied. And as with whenever Aislyn found herself unsatisfied, she visited the Temple of Ionu. The day was for Ionu. Not for her art, nor her worries, nor her obsession with the unknown, but for Ionu.
On her escapade to the temple, Aislyn carried very little with her. All she had was a book she had earlier purchased from the bazaar in the hopes of finding something to distract herself with should she receive no relief in her troubles from Ionu. The contents didn’t particularly matter, all that mattered was that it had some sort of basic entertainment value Aislyn could take something from. The only reason the specific book had caught her eye was because of the bright red string that kept it sealed. A string that was now being weaved incessantly between the woman’s fingers.
It had become a hobby, of sorts. Carrying about a bit of string to wind between her fingers as she walked, just as something to do. She had done such a thing when she was younger, mainly while Thief as something to do with the ribbons that Maya often wore, since no visual trait between the two personas could be too similar, after all. But the tick had reemerged lately, most likely due to how much stress was involved in everyday life. Paranoia, suspicion, the whole nine yards of a shoddy mental landscape. The emersion also probably had something to do with the fact that Aislyn no longer had enough hair to tie back in a ribbon, and she had only just cleaned up her abode well enough to find the dusty box filled with scraps fabric and string now purposeless. Of course, this was not one of her ribbons, but that just made it all the better to fiddle with.
It was unfamiliar, and that made it interesting.
If only every situation could be approached with that sort of thinking.
[817]