Post by Lyrt on Jun 23, 2013 4:06:53 GMT -5
It had been nearly twelve years since Lyrt had last entered the Eolas Spire, yet now she pushed the twisted gates open a stranger. She was no longer the person whom had resided here so long ago, and never would she be again.
The once clean and orderly garden was overrun with untamed weeds and vegetation, a little bit of a mess but salvageable. Nothing important was dead it seemed, and...maybe if she felt the pull she would tend to it later. For now...there were more important things to take care of.
She crouched in the garden and surveyed the plants silently before digging in the soft dirt underneath a blackberry bush. It was there, she knew it was, no one else knew of where the key had been hidden, and it was obvious by the way the gate was locked that no one else had been there.
The locking mechanism was rather peculiar, interlocking pieces of metal to be twisted and pushed into a specific shape. It started out as a marigold, so frighteningly intricate that if the world was black and white someone one would mistake it from afar. Then, with a little coaxing and the right combination of movements it became an Edelweiss, a hard to reach flower of the mountains. When she had been small her father said that it meant the climb of knowledge, not that it had such meaning anymore. The family was dead, and no one would make use the place after she passed. It would fade away into the depths of the past and all the knowledge sealed inside would be lost to the world forever.
Delir, the family name was once revered as one of the most prestigious scholar bloodlines. They had traveled far and wide, recording incident after incident and curiosity after curiosity, bringing home artifacts and treasures from all over the world. The storehouse was filled with them, and the underground storerooms as well. Yet that was not what mattered to her, the archives held what she was interested in.
After a few minutes of digging a small box appeared, and she pulled it out, flipping back the lid to reveal a key nestled inside. Not wasting any more time she snatched it up and strode to the door, sliding in the key smoothly and unlocking it with a satisfying click.
She was met with a cloud of dust as the thick door swung open, the room covered with a thick carpet of it. A whole lot of cleaning would need to be done before she could get any work done, while taking on the whole spire would be a difficult project she would only focus on the rooms she needed. It would be far simpler that way, and she had not much time to waste anymore. It would overtake her completely in a year or two at the most.
Lyrt took a seat in the doorway and leaned back against the frame quietly as she dropped her baggage in a heap, letting the gentle breeze work as a broom and rid the entrance way of dust. Carefully she undid the ties on her soft leather tunic and tossed it aside, gingerly starting to remove the wrappings around her arm and upper chest. The swirling dark marks had indeed advanced, slowly creeping up past her collarbone and up her neck out of her view. It was assumed they must have advanced along her lower half as well, and she felt no need to verify it. Lazily she removed the tie from her hair and the patch around her eye, curiously feeling around the socket of the eye that was no longer her own.
How long had it been since she had sat somewhere like this? Lyrt had never been one for attachments, they held no use. Yet, for just a moment it was peaceful, only a single moment until she caught sight of a plume of in the distance. Few people ever dared wander this far into the spine, and the ones that did never stayed this close until nightfall. It was a curious rare occurrence and she had a mind to investigate, and rid herself of the pest.
She would make a game of it, a little bit of live practice for her bow skills. The weapon had never held much of her interest before, yet in recent years with various incidents it had proven to be far more useful than her usual concoctions and throwing knives. The force from the bowstring provided a rather large range in comparison, and she could tie a vial or two to the head once her aim improved and use it in that fashion.
Grabbing a few arrows from her quiver she shouldered her shortbow and started off into the twilight, ready for a little game, a horribly boring game. She would never lose. Not on her territory.
The once clean and orderly garden was overrun with untamed weeds and vegetation, a little bit of a mess but salvageable. Nothing important was dead it seemed, and...maybe if she felt the pull she would tend to it later. For now...there were more important things to take care of.
She crouched in the garden and surveyed the plants silently before digging in the soft dirt underneath a blackberry bush. It was there, she knew it was, no one else knew of where the key had been hidden, and it was obvious by the way the gate was locked that no one else had been there.
The locking mechanism was rather peculiar, interlocking pieces of metal to be twisted and pushed into a specific shape. It started out as a marigold, so frighteningly intricate that if the world was black and white someone one would mistake it from afar. Then, with a little coaxing and the right combination of movements it became an Edelweiss, a hard to reach flower of the mountains. When she had been small her father said that it meant the climb of knowledge, not that it had such meaning anymore. The family was dead, and no one would make use the place after she passed. It would fade away into the depths of the past and all the knowledge sealed inside would be lost to the world forever.
Delir, the family name was once revered as one of the most prestigious scholar bloodlines. They had traveled far and wide, recording incident after incident and curiosity after curiosity, bringing home artifacts and treasures from all over the world. The storehouse was filled with them, and the underground storerooms as well. Yet that was not what mattered to her, the archives held what she was interested in.
After a few minutes of digging a small box appeared, and she pulled it out, flipping back the lid to reveal a key nestled inside. Not wasting any more time she snatched it up and strode to the door, sliding in the key smoothly and unlocking it with a satisfying click.
She was met with a cloud of dust as the thick door swung open, the room covered with a thick carpet of it. A whole lot of cleaning would need to be done before she could get any work done, while taking on the whole spire would be a difficult project she would only focus on the rooms she needed. It would be far simpler that way, and she had not much time to waste anymore. It would overtake her completely in a year or two at the most.
Lyrt took a seat in the doorway and leaned back against the frame quietly as she dropped her baggage in a heap, letting the gentle breeze work as a broom and rid the entrance way of dust. Carefully she undid the ties on her soft leather tunic and tossed it aside, gingerly starting to remove the wrappings around her arm and upper chest. The swirling dark marks had indeed advanced, slowly creeping up past her collarbone and up her neck out of her view. It was assumed they must have advanced along her lower half as well, and she felt no need to verify it. Lazily she removed the tie from her hair and the patch around her eye, curiously feeling around the socket of the eye that was no longer her own.
How long had it been since she had sat somewhere like this? Lyrt had never been one for attachments, they held no use. Yet, for just a moment it was peaceful, only a single moment until she caught sight of a plume of in the distance. Few people ever dared wander this far into the spine, and the ones that did never stayed this close until nightfall. It was a curious rare occurrence and she had a mind to investigate, and rid herself of the pest.
She would make a game of it, a little bit of live practice for her bow skills. The weapon had never held much of her interest before, yet in recent years with various incidents it had proven to be far more useful than her usual concoctions and throwing knives. The force from the bowstring provided a rather large range in comparison, and she could tie a vial or two to the head once her aim improved and use it in that fashion.
Grabbing a few arrows from her quiver she shouldered her shortbow and started off into the twilight, ready for a little game, a horribly boring game. She would never lose. Not on her territory.