The nature of the outpost was fascinating. It was a largely open aired affair with artistic mosaics and frescoes adorning walls and doorways. It was a lavish place that reeked of artistic patronage; rich merchants with more money than sense to spend on all forms of opulence. It honestly was a comforting sight since it made him feel at home. Coupled with the warm dry weather and the bronzing sun, Wa'Djinnabi re Ahnatep felt quite at home. What struck Djinn was the change of the sun's position above. When he left his dovecote in the Empyreal Demesne the sun was about mid morning, the star, quite possibly not even Syna, was now three finger lengths above the horizon and on its way down.
The shadows on the streets cast by the buildings were hard and deep, giving seekers refuge from the relentless heat should they choose it. The eypharian was spending his time exploring the depths of the shadows and the slices of light that speared out from the intricately carved patterns that adorned many of the buildings. He had a map, but there was something nice about wandering and discovering things for one’s self. The shame was that he did not have much money to spend. He imagined that there would be many things he could buy in a place that acted as a magical hub of trade and commerce.
He canted his head, trying to catch a sound that was just beyond his hearing. He could have sworn he heard the sound of running water. For any desert dweller, this would have been an unusual thing. Water was precious among the sands and could be worth more than a man’s life. To have running water, a fountain or otherwise, was the height of wealth. He could not help but be drawn to the sound and as he drew closer he caught other details. The scent of flowers, the earthy scent of loam and of growing things. He was quickly gathering up a picture of where he was headed.
He had found himself a garden.
When he finally made it to the entrance he simply had to stop and take in the sight. He was confronted by the sight of something he had only dreamed of. It was an elegant affair, stone walkways meandering through obviously curated areas of riotous growth. Hanging baskets of ferns and other plants shaded the paths and the raised columns. Above the pathways he thought he could make out the sound of water, which meant an aqueduct of sorts which he imagined watered the hanging baskets. Stone benches dotted the various paths and fountains and watering basins marked out intersections and path endpoints. He sighed and looked about, he could imagine long and lazy days of quiet contemplation as he read a book or talked with friends. Such a life was not his; his entailed long and grueling work punctuated with vigorous study. He longed to spend his time here as much as he can. Perhaps he could induldge in at least a single day, to explore and… report his findings. Yes. His friends at the Merkai would love to know about his latest discovery.
He was looking up at the hanging portion of the hanging gardens, trying to discover just how the water that he could hear interacted with the hanging ferns when he suddenly impacted someone, sending whoever they were sprawling to the ground. He staggered back himself and started to apologize, “Many many apologies my friend, I was not paying attention to where I was walking.”
WC: 624
