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Old January 3rd, 2013 (11:13 AM). Edited January 14th, 2013 by Lilizuki.
Lilizuki Lilizuki is offline
    Join Date: Nov 2012
    Gender: Female
    Posts: 897
    Fresh grain beneath her feet and a stable center of balance was Crystia's introduction to Elikore islands; her moans of relief stated it as such to the wind that stroked stray hairs along her cheek, and the lapping water who sought to give her a final soppy goodbye. Yet there was no buzzing of insects or fauna to greet the elf, as her pale soles glided across lush emerald grass like nobody had ever stepped upon it before. A slender finger brushed aside her fringe, if only for a moment, to watch the Tower of Oculus, whose girth stretched up to meet the heavens as though it were their lover.

    "How very fitting that they would make it look like a giant phallus." Cyrstia uttered to no one in particular, though their presence wouldn't have stopped her uttering. Her lithe form skulked over to the grand iron door of the Tower of Oculus, followed by a fluttering ivory cape branded with the sigil of the Silver Plains, and the slightest trail of blue behind steps. The cape would simply not do as attire for these monks, despite the comfort it brought her on the devil-ship of Gallen, and it was on the forefront of her mind to find a spare set of robes to requisition. Were they to wear robes, that was, for nudity was just as likely a prospect.

    Beneath the tips of her fingers, the crease where two iron portals met sought to allow passage in a grinding against the stone that formed the base of the Tower of Oculus, while she stood solitary in the cast of a shadow and spotted the supposed glory of the Grand Library through the corner of her eyes, to which she paid no heed. Crystia's steps were silent across the stonework that she was sure some would marvel at, just like the constructions of wax and wood they slotted into cases whose sheer girth could crush a city wall, had they the mind to.

    It was all very grand, for the works of mortals, for whom constructing a hut was lauded as an accomplishment, indeed as her father had. Yet Crystia's refused to accept even the golden platform as significant, for she'd seen greater works wrought by nature without any effort; the bones of the earth formed by waves whose tongues licked like one thousand sword strokes, or the trickling sunlight across a horizon of thousand of miles of land that was placed there all through the glory of those greater than the creator of those murals. If they hoped to impress her, it would take nothing less than shaping cosmos itself.

    The Ekilore symbol, of an unwavering red eye, was perhaps the only thing that could take Crystia's attention for more than a moment, as she hopped upon the golden platform and locked gazes with this sigil of all-seeing. For most, it would have been pervasive or intimidating, with the prospect of constant vigilance upon their lives something to be feared of anxious about. While, to the Monks, it would have been the comfort of knowing something was there to watch over them, or indeed that they were the watchers. In truth, it was nothing more than a symbol to represent the conflict of ideologies for those beneath her. Fate never ceased.

    Then, the platform began to rise quickly enough to make Ctystia's cape drag against the back of her neck; the heavy thing was already serving as a nuisance after padding her bed on the ship ride over. Whatever possessed the Silver Plains nobles to wear the wretched things escaped the elf, but it took only a simple crouch against the ground to slow its momentum, and release her slender neck from a potentially dangerous grasp. More machinery, Crystia silently bemoaned, for it took only one glance to know what purpose it would serve. It did make her briefly wonder whether these monks made use of magic, but the golden ride came to a stop in a room that resembled the bottom of a well, except with less water and a door to meet with other wells.

    What waited for Crystia on the other side, however, was the first thing in this tower of posturing that could impress the elf. A view of most all of the lands, with a view of nature's beauty unrivaled by any other mortal construction that she knew of. Even then, there were flaws in its design, as it was surely an attempt at pretending they had dominance over some of reality. It didn't give them knowledge of all the things that resided in these lands, such as markers for every mage or something to view elsewhere closely. It was a fool's imitation of omniscience, at best.

    Regardless of the criticisms she could bring of the edge, the monks were waiting for her presence. Crystia flipped a golden coin over the edge and continued on her way up to the observatory of the Monks of Ekilore, with the stolen Silver Plains cape fluttering nicely behind her shoulder as punctuation for her arrival, while her eyes stayed hidden behind a veil of black hair. Perhaps there would be a robe to nab inside...
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