Tarybris.
[hr]Day in and day out, rain fell intermittently on Albayza and had wet finally the void itself. Familiar port ships ceased to waver as they flocked into the port town, wavering slightly upon the cascading masses of wind that pulled into the ill-defined bay. Now and again, with thick clouds veiling the sun, a faint glimmer of soft light would pierce the gap, revealing some ship that came to rest in the harbor. The torrential rain seemed endless in the summer, seeming the cradle the mass of ruins that stood in the center, ringed by shining towers that ribbed into the clouds. The flow of people remained somewhat constant, at least with regard to the working people who flocked The Plaza. Somehow it felt an appropriate setting for the journey they would all soon undertake, penetrating the depths of Cumulus’ dream.  

The break of dawn had brought a familiar pitter-patter of rain down upon the port town, and Tarybris cradled the small package in her breast, ducking under a striped awning of some shop as she nodded pleasantly to the vendor. Turning, she wedged her fingernails into the viridian parcel, and tore enthusiastically into the steaming tuber inside, burning her tongue as she devoured the yam. The skin was wrinkled and slightly unpleasant - bitter like macerated Bridesend tea burned in an iron kettle. Cooked over smouldering coals, the yam and its piercing sweetness was tempered by the cloying taste of fragrant smoke and earth. [i]This[/i], Tarybris thought (though she would hardly admit it aloud), was cuisine truly befitting of the city that stood in the shadows of ancient ruins - not the overly decadent pastries and imported sweets from the Isles off Luciole. L'Hôtel d'Albi had reminded her much of the cheap paintings that had decked [i]The Morneau[/i] - all blinding pastels and rough depictions of mustachioed men accompanying elaborately-dressed women through sunlit beaches as they politely sipped tea. The proprietor of the fine establishment had, upon meeting her, rather forcefully invited her to drink Baleienese wine in the crowded sitting room. 

After spending enough time quizzically studying the patrons that filtered into the eating quarters - noting the presence of a few who stood out from the gaudy dress of some of the others - she had tried to tried to spend as little time in the public areas of the hotel as possible. Her last post had ended unceremoniously a few weeks back, and she had taken a supply ferry directly from [i]L’Aigue[/i] to Albayza. Leaving her to mostly wander around the city, making excited conversation with those who seemed to be somewhat regular to the port. To wonder about her shipmates, who surely were all here, somewhere. To eat. All in all, it was a nice city, she thought, steadying herself as the rain tugged against her skin, tangling her skirts about her shins. The rain was warm, at least. But Tarybris hungered to begin the expedition, feeling it was the most important thing she could do in her position, which felt more and more superfluous by the day.

It was with this that she headed back to the hotel - for as stubborn as she was in avoiding it, she was now drenched in rainwater. Moreover, the North Wind was close approaching, if the hand-addressed letter the Madame had sent to her meant anything. By now, her case of clothes should have already made its way to the port. The pangs in her chest, emphasized by the sting of the now-devoured sweet potato, stuttered with the [i]clack[/i] of her shoes as she made her way along.