Summer 5, 518
20th Bell
The Dust Bed, Home
Anja and Maisa were weary after their first trip around and about the city of Sunberth. Anja had found the Seaside market not far from the Dust Bed and taken some time to browse the stalls while Maisa hovered suspiciously nearby, eying the rampaging crowds with untrusting eyes. Anja had purchased some simple black gloves, a second shirt, pants, and pair of boots, a sash to store his vials of soulmist, feed for Maisa, and a cowl in case there was trouble with the weather. The crowds had been dense, irritable, and entirely unconcerned with him. It had been hard to shake the impression of being swallowed alive, and the pair had returned to the quiet of the graveyard with relief. Anja left his horse companion to much her meal happily while the Drykas carefully folded his new clothing in a corner of his tent and pulled on his gloves and sash. All three glass vials fit comfortably in the sash against Anja’s thigh, and the sash served doubly as a makeshift belt to hold his bastard sword.
Pleased with the day’s events, Anja emerged from the tent and breathed the death-tinged air. Already the man could feel his tight nerves beginning to relax. Much like his strider companion, Anja did not do well with close quarters. Besides, graveyards were comforting, haunted or no.
Anja sat himself cross-legged in front of his tent, himself and Maisa safe in the confines of the safe zone Jeb had helped them put together. A few ghosts drifted lazily through the sky, or flickered and vanished, but none of them made any effort to trouble the pair. Just when Anja was dilberating taking a nap then having a look around the graveyard after dark, Anja heard the clack of Jeb’s shack open and watched the man stride towards the tent.
“Good evening,” Anja told him as he approached. The first meeting with his fellow Eiyon had endeared Anja to his new Boss and he was happy to greet him.
“Oy,” Jeb replied, crisp and to the point. “Now that you’re back, I need to make sure you know your shyke. Come on back to the shack with me, and let’s make sure you know what you’re doing.”
Anja clambered to his feet without protest, and cast a quick glance to his strider companion. She seemed content enough with her face full of grain. Anja turned from her and followed his employer back across the rocky terrain and towards Jeb’s makeshift home. The spiritmist felt the familiar shift of haunted, death tinged air, to that of calm as he stepped over the ghostbeads that signaled the threshold of Jeb’s ghost free home.
A familiar scene from earlier that day met Anja’s eyes. A simple shack, with not much more than a bed, table, and a couple of chairs. Anja seated himself at the table at Jeb’s gesture, and the older and more experienced spiritist began shuffling through a bag of objects laid up against the wall. A moment later the man firmly set a group of items on the table: a small bowl, a bag of flour, a small hunk of soft cheese, and a single egg.
“Alright Anja,” Jeb said in his usual gruff tone of voice. “Make me some soulmist.”
(Words, 547)
20th Bell
The Dust Bed, Home
Anja and Maisa were weary after their first trip around and about the city of Sunberth. Anja had found the Seaside market not far from the Dust Bed and taken some time to browse the stalls while Maisa hovered suspiciously nearby, eying the rampaging crowds with untrusting eyes. Anja had purchased some simple black gloves, a second shirt, pants, and pair of boots, a sash to store his vials of soulmist, feed for Maisa, and a cowl in case there was trouble with the weather. The crowds had been dense, irritable, and entirely unconcerned with him. It had been hard to shake the impression of being swallowed alive, and the pair had returned to the quiet of the graveyard with relief. Anja left his horse companion to much her meal happily while the Drykas carefully folded his new clothing in a corner of his tent and pulled on his gloves and sash. All three glass vials fit comfortably in the sash against Anja’s thigh, and the sash served doubly as a makeshift belt to hold his bastard sword.
Pleased with the day’s events, Anja emerged from the tent and breathed the death-tinged air. Already the man could feel his tight nerves beginning to relax. Much like his strider companion, Anja did not do well with close quarters. Besides, graveyards were comforting, haunted or no.
Anja sat himself cross-legged in front of his tent, himself and Maisa safe in the confines of the safe zone Jeb had helped them put together. A few ghosts drifted lazily through the sky, or flickered and vanished, but none of them made any effort to trouble the pair. Just when Anja was dilberating taking a nap then having a look around the graveyard after dark, Anja heard the clack of Jeb’s shack open and watched the man stride towards the tent.
“Good evening,” Anja told him as he approached. The first meeting with his fellow Eiyon had endeared Anja to his new Boss and he was happy to greet him.
“Oy,” Jeb replied, crisp and to the point. “Now that you’re back, I need to make sure you know your shyke. Come on back to the shack with me, and let’s make sure you know what you’re doing.”
Anja clambered to his feet without protest, and cast a quick glance to his strider companion. She seemed content enough with her face full of grain. Anja turned from her and followed his employer back across the rocky terrain and towards Jeb’s makeshift home. The spiritmist felt the familiar shift of haunted, death tinged air, to that of calm as he stepped over the ghostbeads that signaled the threshold of Jeb’s ghost free home.
A familiar scene from earlier that day met Anja’s eyes. A simple shack, with not much more than a bed, table, and a couple of chairs. Anja seated himself at the table at Jeb’s gesture, and the older and more experienced spiritist began shuffling through a bag of objects laid up against the wall. A moment later the man firmly set a group of items on the table: a small bowl, a bag of flour, a small hunk of soft cheese, and a single egg.
“Alright Anja,” Jeb said in his usual gruff tone of voice. “Make me some soulmist.”
(Words, 547)
