Dane
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Rapture
Oso
Candy Cane ElfDarin shook her head, “I’m just going to look around if that’s okay.” She stuffed her hands firmly in her pockets to indicate she wouldn’t touch anything, “I’ve never been here before and just want to look around.”
The attendant nodded and Darin waved to Ridahne and Mrixe before wandering off. She had never seen a building this big before in her life. She had also never seen so many books before. She didn’t like to read and write, but she could read and write both common and the tongue of her little village. It was the one thing that the elders insisted that every child know how to do regardless of gender: reading, writing, and basic mathematics. It was harder for a trader or someone from Lively to scam them or rip them off when they could read, write, and do sums, Darin got that. It was one of the few things she and the elders agreed on. She still hated it. She preferred working with her hands and the dirt.
She wandered looking at the books and artwork. Occasionally a book caught her eye and she paused for a moment to crane her head to look at the title. Most of the books that caught her eyes had bright colors. Her hands stayed in her pockets as she wondered about, and she didn’t make too much noise. Occasionally she whispered a title as she struggled to sound it out loud, but no one seemed to mind that. One time, after sounding out a particularly difficult word a nearby, well Darin thought he was a librarian, smirked and nodded approvingly. That was odd and Darin found herself quickly moving away. Slowly she made her way up the different stories.
Only to stop in front of one of the murals on the third floor. It was war. It was war in such vivid detail that The Seed-Bearer almost thought that she was practically there. Her hand came out of her pocket and stretched out to brush across the canvas only to stop just above it. The painting had to be old, yet it was remarkably preserved. Darin’s hand drop as she stared at the reds and browns and carefully placed blues. The canvas took up a space that was huge, at least three times her height and wider than it was tall. Darin found herself desperately searching for the one thing she knew had to be in the painting. She studied carefully but couldn’t see in on the canvas she could see easily. Without thinking she grabbed a nearby chair and practically dragged it over before scrambling on to it to see the higher parts of the painting.
An attendant protested, “Hey! We have ladders.”
Darin paid her no mind as she studied. It was not a carelessly search. Her eyes focused on one part of the canvas to rove over it desperately dozens of times before moving on to the next section. Occasionally she got off the chair to move it. The attendant hover nervously. She was new and not sure what to do as the human studied the painting like she was some type of scholar or master who specialized in one specific type of brush stroke. Darin ignored her and finally found what she was looking for in the upper left-hand corner painted with only a few brushstrokes in shades of brown that were almost black. It was a spindly shape that almost looked like it could be a spider web or mistake. There was one straight bold line with several curly thinner lines sprouting from it. A few of these thinner lines were dotted with pale sickly green triangles. One had a misshaping circle dangling from the end of it painted in somber red. Darin’s hand came up to hover over it. It could be covered by two of her fingers. It was far distance from the battlefield that was the main focus of the painting.
The attendant was still worried as Darin was on her tiptoes and stretched out as far as her body would go. The chair was wobbling. Finally, the crazy human relaxed and carefully got down from the chair. Darin’s eyes were still on the shape in the corner as she fell to sit in the chair. Absently Darin’s eyes moved back across the rest of the canvas before returning to the one spot. The Gardener had been almost too late. She knew that and here was the proof. War, a thing that no one in Astra really knew, and yet Child had heard tales of. War, a strange hauntingly beautiful terror that everyone was afraid of, yet no one understood. War, that seemed pointless and yet served a purpose, even if that purpose was dark.
Darin suddenly stood and moved back down to the second floor. She had made note of where room 56 was and for now she just wanted to see Ridahne. As stupid as it was, she wanted to see her friend and verify that she was okay. Darin was almost away from the section she was in before scurrying back to put the chair back to where she had gotten it from. The attendant was confused by the strange human, but simply shook her head. Humans were odd. So, what if this one was enthralled by a shape not one master scholar had managed to figure out in several years. It was just a misplace shape. Though the attendant found herself looking at the left corner. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was important, at least to the strange human.
The attendant nodded and Darin waved to Ridahne and Mrixe before wandering off. She had never seen a building this big before in her life. She had also never seen so many books before. She didn’t like to read and write, but she could read and write both common and the tongue of her little village. It was the one thing that the elders insisted that every child know how to do regardless of gender: reading, writing, and basic mathematics. It was harder for a trader or someone from Lively to scam them or rip them off when they could read, write, and do sums, Darin got that. It was one of the few things she and the elders agreed on. She still hated it. She preferred working with her hands and the dirt.
She wandered looking at the books and artwork. Occasionally a book caught her eye and she paused for a moment to crane her head to look at the title. Most of the books that caught her eyes had bright colors. Her hands stayed in her pockets as she wondered about, and she didn’t make too much noise. Occasionally she whispered a title as she struggled to sound it out loud, but no one seemed to mind that. One time, after sounding out a particularly difficult word a nearby, well Darin thought he was a librarian, smirked and nodded approvingly. That was odd and Darin found herself quickly moving away. Slowly she made her way up the different stories.
Only to stop in front of one of the murals on the third floor. It was war. It was war in such vivid detail that The Seed-Bearer almost thought that she was practically there. Her hand came out of her pocket and stretched out to brush across the canvas only to stop just above it. The painting had to be old, yet it was remarkably preserved. Darin’s hand drop as she stared at the reds and browns and carefully placed blues. The canvas took up a space that was huge, at least three times her height and wider than it was tall. Darin found herself desperately searching for the one thing she knew had to be in the painting. She studied carefully but couldn’t see in on the canvas she could see easily. Without thinking she grabbed a nearby chair and practically dragged it over before scrambling on to it to see the higher parts of the painting.
An attendant protested, “Hey! We have ladders.”
Darin paid her no mind as she studied. It was not a carelessly search. Her eyes focused on one part of the canvas to rove over it desperately dozens of times before moving on to the next section. Occasionally she got off the chair to move it. The attendant hover nervously. She was new and not sure what to do as the human studied the painting like she was some type of scholar or master who specialized in one specific type of brush stroke. Darin ignored her and finally found what she was looking for in the upper left-hand corner painted with only a few brushstrokes in shades of brown that were almost black. It was a spindly shape that almost looked like it could be a spider web or mistake. There was one straight bold line with several curly thinner lines sprouting from it. A few of these thinner lines were dotted with pale sickly green triangles. One had a misshaping circle dangling from the end of it painted in somber red. Darin’s hand came up to hover over it. It could be covered by two of her fingers. It was far distance from the battlefield that was the main focus of the painting.
The attendant was still worried as Darin was on her tiptoes and stretched out as far as her body would go. The chair was wobbling. Finally, the crazy human relaxed and carefully got down from the chair. Darin’s eyes were still on the shape in the corner as she fell to sit in the chair. Absently Darin’s eyes moved back across the rest of the canvas before returning to the one spot. The Gardener had been almost too late. She knew that and here was the proof. War, a thing that no one in Astra really knew, and yet Child had heard tales of. War, a strange hauntingly beautiful terror that everyone was afraid of, yet no one understood. War, that seemed pointless and yet served a purpose, even if that purpose was dark.
Darin suddenly stood and moved back down to the second floor. She had made note of where room 56 was and for now she just wanted to see Ridahne. As stupid as it was, she wanted to see her friend and verify that she was okay. Darin was almost away from the section she was in before scurrying back to put the chair back to where she had gotten it from. The attendant was confused by the strange human, but simply shook her head. Humans were odd. So, what if this one was enthralled by a shape not one master scholar had managed to figure out in several years. It was just a misplace shape. Though the attendant found herself looking at the left corner. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was important, at least to the strange human.