Ye ol' Bazaar

[Guest]

The bazaar is crowded and hot- the sun beating upon the shoulders of the inhabitants mercilessly, in a time of smallest shadows. The people, for their part, barely seem to notice the heat, so intent are they upon their purchases- colored jewels, sweet spices, and curiosities unseen, but exchanged in tiny bags underneath the table. The music of some odd wind instrument fills the air, whining and petulant, and yet oddly soothing- audible above the chatter of the crowds.

Entertainers prowl the streets, swallowing everything from swords to flame, or riding about upon a carpet that flies, or even juggling swords, all in the hopes that somebody would only notice them enough to hand out some coin, perchance- or maybe enough that their hidden compatriots in the shadows can get a very close look at the observer's purse. A very close look- maybe even peering into the interior, seeing what's there, taking a small amount of course- fair payment for the show, of course, and the cost is logically steep.

Women with thick veils, omnipresent symbols of matrimony, try not to notice or be noticed by anyone, or at least on the surface. When they think nobody watches, they may give a small smile, or perhaps a wink. After all, what woman is there that doesn't want to be noticed, if only for a second? Of course, the unmarried are far less subtle with their advances.

Above the bazaar looms a large palace, residence of the nobility and the Sultan himself. Pearly white and gold spires capped in brilliant red towers, intricately shaped and pointed- the hall mark of greatness, with arched doorways and grand libraries. The palace itself isn't as open as the bazaar, but there are those who speak of mysteries within, and, of course, secret paths leading to the interior. Rumors of an aviary, with purple doves and irridescent gardens, of stalwart guardians made of speaking stone, of garden mazes that are impossible to escape, of sand hourglasses that seem to alter time as they flow.

Above all, there is the rumor of genies, whispers of spirits trapped within lamps. Rare enough, but there are tales of a bound spirit, whom the Sultan Kjiss uses to maintain his power. Rumors are just talk- which comes cheap in the bazaar- but sometimes... just sometimes... there is truth within the hyperbole. Just enough to make them worth pursuing, of course, but allowing them to remain as elusive and intangible as dragonfly wings.

[Baldwin You'san]

Walking among the peoples, the spices, the ohh's and awe's, made his head swarm, he stopped to watch a man juggling flaming swords, but the yelling from the vendors had caught his attention. Moving through the crowd like a snake, he stopped to look at the spires of the rich, thinking," Hmm, what could be in there?' He looked to his left, then to his right, and smiled. Making his way to the entrance of the palace, he started to go around the outside walls, hop[ing to find a secret way inside, or just a secret, grinning, his heart pumped excitedly, with just the thought of finding treasure.

[Finodborn]

Finodborn sauntered around the market place, winking back naughtily at the women in veil, absorbing the intense colors and scents from spicery, and enjoying the busy atmosphere of this ant nest. Even the thin layer of sweat on his forehead was a wonderful sensation to him. He didn't leave a single busker, entertainer or street artist upon his path unrewarded, and payed them all a genuine compliment or some small amount of money.

Upon hearing the sound of some awkward wind instrument, he remembered why he was here in the first place. He tried to localise the source of the music with his pointy ears, and followed it until he found the musician. "You play irregular, yet fine melodies, my good colleague," he said, and rewarded him too with some coin. "Perhaps you could help me. I'm looking for some sort of flute or clarinet, made from the horn of a unicorn. Would you perhaps know where to find such a rare item in this chaotic sea of people, animals and stalls? I'd be happy to pay you for the information! Well, a reasonable price, naturally.

[Guest]

Baldwin

Try as he might, he couldn't find a way into the interior of the castle. There was only the perfectly smooth walls, undisturbed and without footholds. The guards above laughed heartily, scimitars jingling upon their belts. "Foolish little man- far greater people than you have tried to enter the Sultan's Palace and they have all failed." There was more laughter from above at this comment.

Finodborn

The musician seemed puzzled. "Unicorn? There are no unicorns in the sultanship- for surely if there was, I would have heard of such a beast!" He looked confusedly at Finodborn, as if the midday sun had driven him quite insane. "Are you sure you are not one of... them?" He gestured far beyond the desert, where the barest line of blue sea could be seen. "The ones from beyond the sea?" His whisper seemed oddly invocative, as if the sea was some grand mystery, and what lay beyond it was an even grander one.

[Finodborn]

"Oh perhaps, indeed there are no unicorns in these parts. But merchants these days visit more places than the wind itself, and this very bazaar is the eye of a tornado of merchants. I thought if anywhere, I'd find such an item here. But off course, all men make mistakes. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

Finodborn wanted to turn on his heels when the musician asked where he came from. Until then, Finodborn hadn't thought at all about where he came from or how he ended up here. How strange... He tried to remember where he had been before he was sauntering around the bazaar. The only thing he could remember was some vague image of a misty forest. He couldn't imagine being someone from overseas. This was the most natural, obvious place for him to be. "I don't think I'm from over there..." he said. "But to be honest, I'm not very sure either. Perhaps I am. Anyway, doesn't matter. Perhaps you could tell me where I can find a store with descent musical instruments then , perhaps? Or would you rather enjoy some fresh drink and a chat somewhere? I'm always eager to learn from a gifted colleague!"

[Guest]

Finodborn

The man looked intriguigedly at Finodborn. "You... do not know where you come from? You mean, you might be one of..." he looked desperately at the musician. "... them?" He started to back away. "The voices of shadow? The men from beyond the sea?" He touched the elf, as if to assure that he was real.

"I... I... I cannot stay and converse with you. The only person I could send you to would be Madam Rahan- at least she could make sense of your babble. It makes no sense to not know where you are from." With a last puzzled look, he continued his playing, loudly- as if to block out any further questions from Finodborn.

[Zaure]

Zaure blinked at the sights surrounding him, 'This is... it is more grand than the Citadel!' With a cheerful laugh, the elf loosened his hair from its braid and sang to the music with joyous abandon, while looking around excitedly at all of the items that were being bartered and bought. He grinned at the entertainers and the women and everybody on the street, and, feeling the sun, he lifted his face to the sky, glad for warmth that he had not had for so long.

Listening to the talk and the rumors, Zaure found that the people were even more talkative than most. 'The Palace sounds like an interesting place, actually. Much more interesting than Anochrim's boring place.' Wandering and still singing, as well as wrapping his song in the melodies of the aether, the elf suddenly began to dance in the middle of the street, twining in and out of the crowd as he had done both at the Fest and as a child in the Citadel before his new found energy completely played itself out, and the elf looked for a place to sit down or a place to get himself a drink, tugging absently on a strand of his hair before giving up and speaking in a musical voice, "Where are the drinks?"

He gave another glance to the Palace, thinking that perhaps later he would go see if the birds that were spoken of had voices as beautiful as their supposed plumage.

[Finodborn]

Finodborn now watched the man with the same puzzled look he saw in his eyes. Why is he so scared all of a sudden? "What do you mean, 'voices of shadow'? And what's the big deal with the sea? It's just a big mass of undrinkable water, in essence no different from a tear on a child's cheek!

As the man touched him, Finodborn started to think of the situation as funny. "Good man, perhaps you should seek shelter from the sun. I think it might have burned you a bit." Though my own nose feels pretty red too...

"What a shame that we can't chat some more, I really don't understand why, but hey, I'll get going then. Who's that you say? Madam Rahan? Where should I search for her?"
The musician had already resumed his play. He totally ignored Finodborn now. How childish of you. Finodborn knelt down, and stuffed his finger in the strange looking wind instrument the man was playing, to mute it's sound. "Exactly whére should I look for this Madam Rahan?" he asked, looking the man in the eyes.

[Gia as Rendia]

Rendia thought she was in Amun Ra again and surpressed a cry. But instead of waking to a nightmare, the unreal place caressed her into seeing even though she was frightened and hiding, making herself invisble and not wanting to be found. It was not Amun Ra. It was as Amun Ra should be. Now that everything made perfect sense again, Rendia could look about her in wonder.

Spontaneously she dove deep into the experience of this reassuring dream state and asked the nearest vendor if she could have one of those colorful things he was selling. She had never seen one. It never occured to her that she might need something with which to pay. It would all work out, her good dreams always did. And this was an especially good one.

[Guest]

Automne, getting the handle on her flute, had achieved a most small ammount of money for playing earlier. The sun, had in turn, become too hot for her to bear. She had retreated to the shadows and had begun to explore the markets. She loved the smells, rose incense the most. Men has approached her and complimented her on her outfit. She had, as was her style, backed away from offered drinks and walked away quietly melting with the crowds. She had only one ideal in her mind, to get to the palace... she was always a secret treasure fiend. All to many times had she over heard the rumors and hush-hush tales of the depths in the palace's chambers.

She slowly stalked her way through the bazaar towards the entrance to the palace. She twirled her long golden-brown braid behind her, sparkling and shimmering in the bright sun. The golden thread embroideries in her green-velvet glowed and covered her green slippers. She slipped her instruments in their hip-badolier and approached. Perhaps, she'd attempt to offer her elven skills with instruments to the Sultan. She thought better of it and tried to greet a guard.

"Ah, one of the Sutlan's finest," She smiled a tiny but alluring smile, "You and your men seem tired in this hot midday sun. As am I." She stepped a little closer to him, making sure to sway her hips barely enough to make her tamborine jingle melodically. "Perhaps you would allow me to entertain you and your other peers for a cool drink? I don't have quite enough stamina to stay out in the bazaar a moment longer. Won't you please?" She hoped that her seductive appearance might appeale to the men and they would let her stay with them a bit. She added, "Of course, only those of you that are resting. I would hate to tear you from your duties. You all look terribly bored and hot, I would gladly play music and dance a bit for you all."

[Guest]

Zaure

Zaure's etherial senses seemed oddly heightened here, as if there was some force amplifying them, sending them more strongly across the aether. The sounds seemed to echo oddly, as if he was shouting into an expansive room that was empty. The reverberation was unsettling to say the least, but it did not affect the elf at all. It was just a curiousity of the place, nothing more.

As the elf sat down, a woman dressed in silky clothing, clearly far wealthier than most within the market. "You desire drinks? There are plentiful drinks within the palace of the Sultan. There is beauty there- and there is beauty within your voice." She smiled, her lips the delicate red of sunset, her eyes hidden by a delicate cloth- almost transparent- along with most of her long red hair. The woman's skin seemed far too pale for the desert sun, although most of it was covered by the purples and greens of her garments.

She extended a hand to Zaure. "Won't you join us there? I'm certain someone with your... talents, would be much appreciated." Her painted lips were fixed in their smile, although nothing else of her was visible asside from her slender hands, bedecked in jewlery. "I'm sure the Sultan would love to meet you."

Finodborn

The man looked pityingly at Finodborn's face. "You honestly do not know where you are, do you? You honestly do not know what it is that lies beyond the sea, in places of shadow?" He touched the elf once more, as if to verify his reality once more. "The sea is no different from the teardrops of the city- for that is what it truly is. The Sea of Tears, of constant woe. It is said that it was once our beginning. That it will be our end." His voice lowered to a delicate whisper.

"Yes, speak to Madam Rahan- she is wise. They say she knows too much- that her intellect has grown beyond its boundaries, but talk is talk." He sighed, as if puzzled by the enigmatic nature of the rumors. "She should be able to help you." He gave hurried directions, which, despite their complexity, somehow seemed clear to Finodborn- as if he had been here before.

The man began to play his whiny instrument once more.

Rendia

The man smiled at Rendia. "You understand something that most visitors do not, dearest Rendia. You see it for what it is." With nothing more, the colorful trinket was within her grasp- lacking form. After all, she had yet to give it name or shape. It was hers to mold, as she saw fit. There was an electric tingle, from far beyond the horizon. Then, all that Rendia could feel was an icy chill upon the back of her neck. Then there was that odd feeling of being watched, of something lingering, intent upon her presence.

Then it moved on, and the shiny trinket glimmered brilliantly, the music and sounds and smells engulfing her once more. The sun shone brightly upon her face. Too long had it been since she had truly felt an Amun Rah tradetide.

Automne

The guard looked Automne up and down, appraisingly. Contrary to common belief, being a guard was in fact, not an ideal profession if one intended to acquire the attentions of womenfolk. That is, of course, unless the woman wanted something. So, was it honestly surprising or in anyway deterrant for the guardsman to say no to a pretty face with a request?

"Sure," he said, smiling gleefully. Thrusting another guard roughly to the post he had previously occupied, with an abrupt gesture of command, he turned toward the elf, seeming to devour her with his eyes. "Horus, Haijin! Let us come watch this elf flute her flute. She wants to entertain us, in exchange for drink..." he gripped a skin of water in his hands, allowing the water to squirt smoothly over his hands, a small portion landing upon the flautist herself. The two guards came immediately at the summons, their eyes similarly consuming- like hungry dogs being at last given a piece of meat.

"Cool, isn't it? Especially here, under the eye of the Jaji," he smiled coldly, his stance expectant. His words were no lie- despite the burning gaze of the sun, the water was cold, as if kept so magically. Of course this was irrelevent. There were men, and they wanted to be entertained- and the flowing water was so tempting...

[Zhavon Mikhalrian]

Even in Zhavon's confounded dreams was she on the business for her grandparents, in a bazaar, shopping for something. Only, she couldn't quite remember what it was that she was looking for, and wasn't the least bit bothered by that either, as was often the case in dreams. It wasn't out of place that she was swathed in the finest linen and silk, not at all, this was a common place occurance as far as she was concerned. Hair was curled and styled appropriately as the heiress to a merchants' wealth, clothing as rich as her apparent status in this dreamworld and of the current fashion in jade green.

Perusing over the stalls of the merchants, she smiled, fingering this or that quietly as she trailed along the walkway, curious of each and every thing presented to her. Whatever it was that she was supposed to locate for her grandparents was not here, but where was the harm in looking? Certainly there was no problem in searching amongst the stalls, perhaps that's where it was. Smiling, Zhavon plucked a fig from the selection of fruit present to those on the street. "How much?" Oh, there was no need for money, as was often found in dreams, she either had it on her, or would bill back to her family.

[Finodborn]

Finodborn thought of it all the more funny as the man's speech got more dramatical as time went by. He even started giggling when the man concluded with "that it will be our end." In fact it looks like they could use the cool draught of some water over here... But he didn't say it out loud, since he thought he'd upset the man even more that way. Instead, he acted as a good boy, and followed the directions through the human maze without much effort. "Thanks, good sir," he said upon departing, and he dropped an extra coin in his lap. He noted the strange melodical developments and structures this man used, since they were very different from what he knew himself. What a pity he didn't want to chat... whistling a jolly tune, he got on his way to madam Rahan.

[Zaure]

Zaure noted to reverbering echo, but not with alarm, only curiosity, wondering if perhaps he could create certain notes and melodies here he normally could not, and blend colors as well. He sensed the woman's presence before she spoke and the elf looked up at her curiously as he continued to try to separate unfamiliar melodies and colors in his mind, "Hello."

The elf tenatively reached a hand towards her clothing, which was of such colorful material he just had to see if it was truly silk or not, "You stand out here..." A few moments later, Zaure got his answer as to why she did and looked up at those oddly painted lips and slightly hidden eyes, "You want me to sing? Well, I am thirsty, so..." He nodded and took the extended hand and joyously proclaimed his happiness through the next sentence both in the aether and in the market, "Lead the way!"

[Baldwin You'san]

Grumbling under his breathe, he walked to the front of the palace, and frowned, wondering How to get in? Hmm of all the ways... He looked at the front gate, and smiled, walking up to the gate, he looked around him, then looked at the guards...he had an idea...a crazy idea...

[Gia as Rendia]

Rendia smiled. It all made perfect sense. The presence was somehow hers in some remote way as well, if only hers to be seen by. These thoughts also floated away in this world.

She forgot everything except the trinket on her palm. It was colorful as a rainbow in the mist of a waterfall, delicate as a bejeweled bird, and as shimmering as the flash of fish scales under their canopy of water. She wanted it closer, so she put it around her neck, of course. It was the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen. It had always been this, she felt. She smoothed the perfectly clean and flowing white robes given her by Callen and felt more satisfied then any nobel of her city. This was her ideal city, and everyone here was free, she decided. So without fear she pulled her hair up and fastened it there with a gold cord she suddenly had and looked around. She wanted to talk to people, she wanted to greet them and know them all from a distance from parties they had previously thrown. How pleasant it would be to live as an accepted member of this place. The heat had never been more completely embracing. Her skin glowed once more beneath it, her feet shuffled forward at a content pace, and her eyes, brilliant green, traveled before her.

[Guest]

Zhavon
The man turned to her, his face at first twisted in a scowl, but quickly relaxing as he saw her. "Milady Zhavon! Those, of course you may have those. The children of nobility are well served by my family." He bowed deeply, shooing away the few others who had come to gape at the apparently rich customer. "Please, take as many as your family desires!"

He grinned then, his teeth showing, the hints of decay strong upon them. "Pray tell your father that Rajah of Telamur bids him well in endeavors." With that, he directed her attention to some of the better fruits, drawing her smooth hand with his rough one. She felt the tiniest pressure as he slid a tiny vial into her hand. "Be sure and give your father the sweetest of the fruits I will give you. For otherwise he would be very cross with me."

The smile never left his face, but there was force in his eyes. "Don't forget, Zhavon," he repeated, and let go of her hand.

Finodborn

Finodborn's process was oddly unimpeded. The crowds parted at exactly the right places, as if they themselves did not wish to influence his journey. The elf could feel the occasional whisper wrap around his ear, as if in gentle summons- but then, it may have just been the wind.

Before long, he found himself in a shop with a low ceiling, smelling strongly of incense and spice. Curtains hung at odd angles about the room, as if intended to create an air of mystery. Strange curios were set on shelves- skulls and jewels and tapestries depicting crying eyes filling a sea- and above it a cradling hand holding the Sultan's palace. An odd hacking noise came from within, as of a rusted handle suddenly being pulled.

"Come in, Finodborn. You have been sent to me and I will be damned if I won't answer. You know, the fates have their ways in this place just as they do everywhere." The voice rang out, low and reedy, from behind a curtain, where a silhouette could be seen. Sitting in a chair, hair short and curly, there was the form of a woman caressing an orb upon a table before her. The hand was skeletal- almost frightening, but somehow the presence itself was comforting.

"Do you want to believe, Finodborn? Or do you want to exist on the surface of things?" The voice whispered again. "Ephemerality is not without its consequences, you know."

And then she laughed, high and whispery, like the sound of wind through willow branches.

Zaure

The woman smiled benevolently at the elf. At his joyous (and aetherial) pronouncement, the echo rang out loudly, and he felt the woman draw back, almost involuntarily. Only for a moment, though, and then she was smiling kindly again. "I'm most intrigued as to how you do that. Touch inside of me..." she trailed off, licking her lips hungrily. "But this is not the time nor the place for such questions. It is best to take you quickly to the Sultan." She looked nervously over her shoulder, beyond the horizon. "Time is useful, while it lasts." With that simple wisdom, she strode together with Zaure toward the palace.

At the woman's approach the guards stirred, and the woman extended a long, graceful, arm above her head. While she was signalling, Zaure couldn't help but notice an elfess with a flute standing near a group of guards, chuckling simplistically. For some reason, though, there was a kind of boundary there- an air of forbiddance, a sort of wall that seemed to prevent him from even looking at the situation for too long.

Before he could investigate further, however, the woman was walking toward the gate, which opened lazily for her and Zaure. Her grip tightened as they past through the door, there came a tingling sensation, a wavering of the air in front of them, and then they were within the palace. A gigantic courtyard opened before them, centered around a gigantic fountain, the size of some of the largest houses Zaure had ever seen. It appeared that the Sultan did not spare any expense. The water was cool and inviting, and Zaure could almost feel it upon his skin.

The courtyard was filled with grasses and flowers of every possible kind, and many that seemed impossible in their brightness. Paths intertwined and melded and diverged in an expertly crafted path, leading eventually (one might assume) to any of a number of locations. There, in the distance, was a crystalline dome. Nearer at hand there was a tatooed man seemingly dancing upon the air itself. Large hedges surrounded the courtyard, with several entrances were cut in. The hedges were massive, at least three times Zaure's own height. The towers extended above the entire scene, surveying- each seemingly as large as the Caesar's own palace as the elf remembered it. It was mind-boggling, the sheer size and wonder of the place.

"Feel free to do as you will for a few burns. I must make an announcement to the Sultan, tell him that you have arrived. That the treasures are coming in- that the sea is stable yet." She walked away casually, as if there was no concern now for Zaure. "Do not try and leave this place, elf."

Baldwin

The guards looked appraisingly at Baldwin. The gate was massive, reminiscent of the grand entrance of the Citadel, only far, far larger (although Baldwin could not have known this). A guard walked up to the half-elf, his eyes narrowed.

"You! Step away from the gate!" He called loudly (and unnecessarily- Baldwin was only a few steps away from him). He shoved the half-elf backwards. "I don't like your look, odd-ear. If I see you trying to get in here again, it'll be your hide in the dungeon." His tone was firm and more than serious- almost as if it desired to do so, if given the oppurtunity.

Rendia

As her will wished it, her presence changed. The appearance was natural, befitting the sunlit spaces of Amun Rah. The trinket shone brightly, and the men of the city couldn't help but look at her, their eyes absorbed into the brilliant necklace (for that was what she had willed it to become). It was as if she had chosen the perfect appearance for this place, this location.

She felt the presence from beyond the horizon watching, waiting. It was familiar in more ways than she could have known- for it was impossible to recognize that the watcher was more powerful than she could imagine. That something truly strong was watching her progress. One thing was certain, though- it feared for her, and the hungry gazes of the men. She felt the gaze spread around her then, unfocus, and then a little girl was before her path, and the gaze was gone- shifted elsewhere.

"Priestess Rendia!" the girl called, her dark eyes dancing merrily as she rushed forward and clung to the woman, as if this was not their first meeting. "Where are you going? Aren't you going to tell me more about Jaji? You told me that he loves us all, priestess, but you never told me why!" She pointed accusingly at the sun, which had just then began its gradual decline from its zenith. "Does he love me as much as he loves you?" the girl asked.

[Zaure]

Zaure tilted his head to the side curiously when she drew away, "Do you not like it? I will stop if it bothers you so much; I don't mean to be rude, it's just as natural to me as smiling is." Although he didn't want to be rude, the way she licked her lips was more than a little disturbing to him, and he stretched out an empathic strand as she looked over her shoulder, "Why are you nervous? Why is that best?" The elf followed the woman, but looked at the flute player intently before, for some reason, he felt as though his gaze was averted, which also disturbed him inwardly.

The elf's disturbances were fully quelched when he gaped at the houses and fountains, all so large to Zaure's eyes, although he sneezed at the tingling sensation. He shut his eyes and wished he was in the fountain and inside the water. He looked around the courtyard and up at the towers in wonder and bewilderment, 'How is it possible for anything to be built that large?' Absentmindedly, the elf stretched an arm towards the sky as though to grasp the towers in his fingertips. A part of her statement confused him, 'Arrived? I cannot arrive, I was not expected.'Zaure's head snapped around as the woman said she was leaving, and balked at being told what to do, "Why mustn't I leave?" With a sigh, the elf watched the dancing man in fascination, 'How does he do that?'

Walking closer, the elf stood right in front, or rather, right under the dancing man, observing both the tattoos and dancing with yet more wonder, "How do you do that? Dance on the air?"

[Gia as Rendia]

As her surroundings ajusted Rendia conformed.And still her skin soaked up the rays of the sun like a beaten, needy puppy absorbs any affection given it. The girl interested her as her eyes fell upon the figure. But by the very nature of this place, she too was swept away.

Rendia accepted the girl with open arms as another occurence that made perfect sense. Soothing the girl's hair she reassured, " Shh, shh, calm child. I am not going anywhere. What have I told you?" she prompted gently. She trusted that all missing would be supplied, and if not her mind would grasp some other meaning and continue.

Was Jaji Uphuron?

[Guest]

Automne smiled thankfully and drank her fill of the cool water, clearing her parched throat. She lifted her flute from her waist-bandolier. She smiled at them and motioned to them to sit down. She took out her green scarf and tspun it a round her wrist loosely and hung around her back to her other wrist. She gave a practice spin and tiny bells in her dress lit off into a dancing wind-like melody. The scarf formed a crescent around her and she stopped. She lifted the flute to her lips and blew a long and crisp note, high, like the chilling wings of winter. It sent chills down her spine just to play it. She scaled down in quick rapid notes and slowed on a two low and whispy notes. The tune echoed off the walls and down to the bazaar. She paused to breathe and face them. "Is this music to your liking? Or would you like something more dance like? I can do either you like." She closed her eyes and smiled, waiting for a reply.

[Guest]

Zaure

The man paused in his dance for a moment, turning completely upside down for a brief instant before lowering himself to the ground before the elf. He grinned, stretching his hands before the elf, and it seemed that Zaure could sense the energy radiating from around him- a tangible aura of power.

"It's magic, elf. Magic." He whispered, and it seemed that he stepped onto a platform in the air- setting himself upon it gingerly, he extended a hand to Zaure, inviting her to come up with him, still smiling. "Won't you join me?" he asked, his tone confident and light.

Rendia

"You told me how the great father Jaji was everywhere around us- but that the sun was his eye. You said that sometimes you could feel him watching you from elsewhere, a presence that cared for you deeply." The girl seemed puzzled. "But how can he be everywhere at once? And doesn't having the sun for an eye hurt? And why does he watch you all the time? Does he look at you... when you're naked?"

The little girl giggled immaturely. "Priestess Rendia, why should I believe in Jaji at all?" Her voice was hushed, and Rendia couldn't help but notice that the crowds were giving her a wide berth, born of respect or perhaps of fear. Or maybe it was a mixture of both- it was impossible to tell.

Automne

The guards smiled at her lovely performance. It was certainly a pleasant change from the whiny wind instruments from the town below. The performance seemed oddly heightened, and her skill somehow increased (as things so frequently are, in dreams). The notes floated dreamily around her, arpeggios building around makeshift crescendos- notes intertwining and hovering beautifully upon the dry air of the bazaar. Indeed, it seemed that the open air market momentarily paused as she played, savoring the sweet sound before moving on.

"You play real good, elf," the guard nodded, and his compatriots apparently agreed (with the exception of one, who seemed to be roughing up a half elf who approached too close). He struck one of his companions lightly upon the chest, and he handed over his waterskin reluctantly. "You can have this, if you'll play for us once more." He seemed hopeful and joyous- like a child who has finally received the present he has asked for.

[Zhavon Mikhalrian]

She giggled like a young girl, lifting one hand to brush aside the hair from her face as it fell in soft tendrils about her cheek. As was oft found in her dreams, her parents were alive and well, and apparently, judging from the man's reaction, well known. This didn't phase her in the least, as it were, it was a common enough occurance in her dreams. Not to mention, that people in dreams rarely ever believed that it wasn't anything but reality to begin with.

Her hand was taken, the vial pressed into it as the man continued to speak about her father. Nodding slowly, she withdrew her hand when he allowed her to. The moment was odd, slightly peculiar at that, though, dutifully, she'd give her father the message as it was given to her. And of course, the vial as well.

Smiling, she snagged a fig and took a dainty bite from it with a grin. "I'll stop by to pick some up on my way back... I'm on errands..." Another cheeky smile and the girl waved good bye to continue on through the bazaar in her quest to find... something, whatever it was.

As she moved though and between bites of her fig, she glanced down at the vial, inspecting it carelessly as she slipped between others in the bazaar.

[Finodborn]

Finodborn enjoyed the well-timed parting of the sea of people. The only thing he didn't enjoy about crowds was the amount of wrestling needed to move through them. Not here. He didn't feel insulted by their comportment at all, and nodded with a friendly smile at almost all who neatly avoided to cross his path. In the mean while he hummed an old happy sailor song about a fisherman who is returning to his home harbor.

As he entered the somewhat odd store, he thought perhaps I shall find this instrument here. Yet he still hadn't a clue why he needed it or why and how he came to look for it here. He hoped the musician had been wrong and that he could find it here, because he was driven by a strong urge to acquire it. His eyes scanned the shelves in search of anything he could use. He made a little jump in the air as the unexpected noise formed a sudden contrast to the silence he'd just got used to.

"Thank you... erm... madam Rahan? How is it that you know my name and why do you speak of answers when I haven't yet posed you any question?"
He moved towards her, and wondered whether he was supposed to go behind the curtains or not.

The withered hand looked strange, but didn't instill fear or disgust or so. It was as if it was most natural, obvious even, that her hand would be like that. This whole day hade some kind of predictability over it, as if it was one big deja-vue.
He thought a while, considering her questions and the situation, then answered: "Well, to be honest ma'am, I'm not much of a philosopher, and what you speak of sounds pretty strange to me. Surface? Believe in what?I've been told you're a wise woman, and you treat me kindly. So I'll be glad to listen to whatever you have to tell me. However, I always thought the goal in life was to get as happy as possible, and I do not see how believing in something I don't experience can help accomplish that. Perhaps you can tell me. And what has this to do with ephemerality? I believe I'm not bright enough to talk with you on this level. Anyway, in fact, I'm looking for a peculiar musical instrument, though I don't think that's really your trade, is it? But perhaps you know where I could find it. Or maybe you know how I got here."

[Zaure]

Zaure laughed, "I sort of figured that part out. I meant, what are you doing to the energies?" The elf reached out as if to touch the energy, and also stretched forth a couple of the strands of color and melody to see if they could figure out what was going on for him. Zaure blinked, then nodded happily, "Okay, but... what are the limits, I don't want to fall off..." The elf climbed up on the platform as he took the man's outstretched hand.

The elf looked at the ground directly below him and jerked; this was most certainly an odd feeling, but he turned to the man and smiled happily, "Dance now?"

[Isabella Florentina]

Isabella found herself in shopping heaven. The smells, the colors, and she had coin a plenty in her purse, never once stopping to worry about bills.

The darkhaired beauty was wearing a deepcut burgundy gown, wondering why all these silly girls were wearing veils. Of course there was something said by leaving something to the imagination, but really, there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. She used her fan to obscure her face now and again, fluttering her eyelashes at handsome princes and other good looking wealthy types, but otherwise nothing distracted her from this wealth of goodies.

With a sigh of delight she held up a particular fine piece of silken cloth, almost but not quite see through in a subtle taupe color. Such a lovely chemise this would make "How much for this?" Isa demanded.