Post by Nolan on Nov 2, 2011 23:30:47 GMT -5
The moment Rydia stepped out from the silver archways of the Tower of Babil, she stepped out into a world that was simply...foreign.
She couldn't even recognize magic, as many different forms seemed to swirl and pervade the air. There was the natural kind she remembered, the kind that was inherent within all people in her world and flowed freely across landscapes and towns and caves. There was another sort that hung thick, almost overpowering. It felt cloudy and muddled. Confused almost. Rydia felt as though it would choke her if she even dared to tap into it.
A third kind assailed her with its presence too. Sharp and biting like steel, it felt stagnant and mechanical. This magic had to force its way into existence, for it wasn't natural and it almost hurt Rydia to even think about it, let alone try to use it.
In the old world, there really wasn’t anything like it. She had never seen snow, or felt a winter’s chill. The only times she had seen ice were from the Blizzard spells she conjured, or the dust that Shiva could summon. Now, as far as the eye could see, a blanket of snow stretched out across the land, covering everything. Rydia couldn't decide between amazement or devastation.
Taking a few steps, she found herself trudging ankle-deep in the snow. Her breathing began to sting with each inhale as she grew colder. Frigid winds whipped and lashed at her exposed body. There was no need for warm clothes in the old world. There was nowhere cold enough to need it.
If only she could find civilization. Somewhere in the distance there had to be a town of some sort, maybe an outpost or even a city. She began to chant swiftly, and whispered the word Fire into her hands.
Years ago, this would have caused an eruption of flame that would have burned her flesh and probably killed her. She had since then learned to control the degree that her magic worked. She could channel the most basic of spells to lesser extents. So no more than a handful of fire flickered into existence within her palms.
The warmth instantly washed over her face and arms and brought alive the nerves. It tickled her chest and taunted pieces of her lower body. Her legs would have to wait until she was too tired to keep moving. It was imperative that she look for somewhere. Anywhere would do.
After what seemed like an eternity, the lights of a town caught her eye. They rose up from the snow like a beacon, and disappeared even further among ice capped mountains. Before she knew it she was at their doors; an old sign stood at the outskirts printed:
SALAMAND
Rydia quickly blew out her flame, almost falling to her knees running to the inn.
No one greeted her as she entered, but most eyes turned to stare at her. Everyone was dull and mundane; blond haired, brown haired, black haired, red haired. They wore sweaters and vests, with plain leggings and leather shoes. Overcoats hung drip-drying from coat racks while mittens and hats were littered across tables.
There Rydia stood, shivering with emerald green hair, near frozen like icicles, with the skimpiest attire any of them had probably ever seen. After their amusement wore off, they returned to their drinks and idle chatter; a very familiar scene from the old world.
The innkeeper seemed disinterested in Rydia’s appearance; perhaps he was used to strange people dropping in. He did seem concerned about the amount of clothing she possessed though, and smiled unamused at her frozen features. She began to speak, but he interrupted with a shake of his head.
“I don’t care what your story is, or where you’re from, hon. We get enough people like you on a daily basis now, so I can only imagine what you’ve been through.”
“Do you have a room for me, then?” she asked, feeling hopeful that his concern meant he had a warm bed for her to sleep in.
He had already moved to the guest book, and was flipping through it thoughtfully, only half paying attention. “Sorry, sweetie, but it looks like we’re all full. I’ll tell you what though, you can sit around here and I’ll have someone bring you some warmer clothes. I can’t believe what you’re wearing.”
A bit of disappoint caught in her throat, but she didn’t express it to him, only found herself a wooden stool at a table near the fire and waited.
She couldn't even recognize magic, as many different forms seemed to swirl and pervade the air. There was the natural kind she remembered, the kind that was inherent within all people in her world and flowed freely across landscapes and towns and caves. There was another sort that hung thick, almost overpowering. It felt cloudy and muddled. Confused almost. Rydia felt as though it would choke her if she even dared to tap into it.
A third kind assailed her with its presence too. Sharp and biting like steel, it felt stagnant and mechanical. This magic had to force its way into existence, for it wasn't natural and it almost hurt Rydia to even think about it, let alone try to use it.
In the old world, there really wasn’t anything like it. She had never seen snow, or felt a winter’s chill. The only times she had seen ice were from the Blizzard spells she conjured, or the dust that Shiva could summon. Now, as far as the eye could see, a blanket of snow stretched out across the land, covering everything. Rydia couldn't decide between amazement or devastation.
Taking a few steps, she found herself trudging ankle-deep in the snow. Her breathing began to sting with each inhale as she grew colder. Frigid winds whipped and lashed at her exposed body. There was no need for warm clothes in the old world. There was nowhere cold enough to need it.
If only she could find civilization. Somewhere in the distance there had to be a town of some sort, maybe an outpost or even a city. She began to chant swiftly, and whispered the word Fire into her hands.
Years ago, this would have caused an eruption of flame that would have burned her flesh and probably killed her. She had since then learned to control the degree that her magic worked. She could channel the most basic of spells to lesser extents. So no more than a handful of fire flickered into existence within her palms.
The warmth instantly washed over her face and arms and brought alive the nerves. It tickled her chest and taunted pieces of her lower body. Her legs would have to wait until she was too tired to keep moving. It was imperative that she look for somewhere. Anywhere would do.
After what seemed like an eternity, the lights of a town caught her eye. They rose up from the snow like a beacon, and disappeared even further among ice capped mountains. Before she knew it she was at their doors; an old sign stood at the outskirts printed:
SALAMAND
Rydia quickly blew out her flame, almost falling to her knees running to the inn.
No one greeted her as she entered, but most eyes turned to stare at her. Everyone was dull and mundane; blond haired, brown haired, black haired, red haired. They wore sweaters and vests, with plain leggings and leather shoes. Overcoats hung drip-drying from coat racks while mittens and hats were littered across tables.
There Rydia stood, shivering with emerald green hair, near frozen like icicles, with the skimpiest attire any of them had probably ever seen. After their amusement wore off, they returned to their drinks and idle chatter; a very familiar scene from the old world.
The innkeeper seemed disinterested in Rydia’s appearance; perhaps he was used to strange people dropping in. He did seem concerned about the amount of clothing she possessed though, and smiled unamused at her frozen features. She began to speak, but he interrupted with a shake of his head.
“I don’t care what your story is, or where you’re from, hon. We get enough people like you on a daily basis now, so I can only imagine what you’ve been through.”
“Do you have a room for me, then?” she asked, feeling hopeful that his concern meant he had a warm bed for her to sleep in.
He had already moved to the guest book, and was flipping through it thoughtfully, only half paying attention. “Sorry, sweetie, but it looks like we’re all full. I’ll tell you what though, you can sit around here and I’ll have someone bring you some warmer clothes. I can’t believe what you’re wearing.”
A bit of disappoint caught in her throat, but she didn’t express it to him, only found herself a wooden stool at a table near the fire and waited.