Open Fields of Grace
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Kalt Ravenshire
Medic / Alchemist

Age: 38 | Height: 6’ 1” | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 9 - Dext: 24 - Endr: 12 - Luck: 6 - Int:
KYSMA - Mythical - Unicorn (Superspeed)
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Posts: 202 | Total: 698
MP: 345
#15
Kalt
I say goodbye to my weakness,
So long to the regret,
and now I see the world
through diamond eyes.

    He found Bastien’s tale interesting. On the outside, it didn’t appear as fascinating or adventurous as life as an assassin, but Kalt had always wondered what his life would have been if Harkon had never brought him into the Guild.

    While it may not have been as enthralling as the life of an out killer, Kalt liked the way Bastien spun his tales about his past. The life of art and music and freedom was one denied to Kalt for years, one that he had to fight tooth and nail to be permitted. Hells, he had been forced to burn the first guitar he had ever built in the Guild, so to hear about people living that life freely was so...peaceful to his mind.

    ”Well, I’ve yet to really take a look at the Atheneum, but I’m good with languages,” Kalt said. ”Heard there were a few indecipherable ones, so that might be fun to look into.” Puzzles were an adventure in and of themselves, so he enjoyed piecing them together. Languages were the same concept.

    ”The sun?” Kalt asked, almost sounding shocked as he squinted and glanced upwards. ”Guess I never really was one for the warmth.” The warmth always pissed him off, much preferring to be able to wear two layers with comfort, rather than wanting to peel his skin off under the blazing sun. There weren’t many opportunities for cool downs in the Guild, though. Perhaps he hadn’t had the chance to truly enjoy warmth as it should’ve been. ”We don’t know what it’ll be like in the warm season, though,” Kalt said. He wasn’t sure yet what the natives called summer. ”Might be even hotter than your Venice sun.”
Bastien De Rosieres
the Dionysian
Ambassador for the Hollowed Grounds / Artist

Age: 41 | Height: 6' 2" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 5 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 22 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 10 - Int:
PITTORE - Mythical - Gremlin (Disappearance)
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#16

"Languages...the great puzzle. I am fluent in both Italian and French, but here that means nothing, hm?" Bastien still wasn't entirely sure how everyone here could understand each other, with all the different tongues from different lands...yet they did. Perhaps he could find the books in the Atheneum and discover he could read those.

"I suppose that is true enough. I am judging the warmth of the Venice Summer to the cold of the Winter here." Though truthfully, he didn't know if he believed the drab greys of this place could ever bring themselves to be bright and radiant with warmer seasons. It would be seen as time went on, he supposed.

Speaking of his past always made him a little melancholic, now. Bastien sat back, leaned on his hands and just listened to Kalt play for a while, existing in a peaceful quiet with him which was saved from being awkward by the soft notes of the guitar. He watched the flowers and grass sway in the wind, noted how the music was picked up by the breeze. It was the pastoral ideal, beautiful and easy.

After spending a good amount of time enjoying the tune and the surroundings, he left Kalt to it, thanking him for the songs and conversation. He walked back through the fields to the fading notes of the guitar, happy to know there were others here with songs in their hearts.


BASTIEN
This tiresome desire to shock and amaze

Perhaps I’ll grow out of it one of these days



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